8. Matthew

I wakeup the next morning, and the first thing I'm aware of is the warm body pressed against me. It appears Liam and I have gravitated to each other during the night.

It's safe to say that out of everyone I could have imagined waking up next to naked, Liam would be at the bottom of the list.

I pull away and roll over to look at him.

He's still asleep, and for all his protests that he doesn't snore, he's currently making a cute snuffling sound. I almost reach for my phone to record it, but I don't want to risk disturbing him.

Although it's not like he needs his beauty sleep.

I've never allowed myself to admire Liam Jamieson, but I do now. He really is the perfect specimen of masculinity. His hair is ruffled from sleep, one lock hanging over his forehead.

One of my fingers twitches to push the stray hair away so I can see his whole face, unguarded and relaxed. I want to skim my fingers across the smooth skin of his cheekbones, down to the rougher texture of the stubble of his jaw.

Watching Liam sleep, I wonder about the ethics of sleeping with someone I'm paying to be here.

But as soon as the thought is there, I dismiss it. Liam and I had a preexisting relationship before I became a client of Elite. No contract could ever put our relationship back into professional mode, given the history between us.

I continue to study the immaculate planes of his face. The only thing that mars his perfection is a small scar above his left eyebrow. Shit. I'm pretty sure I'm actually responsible for that. I'd put a whoopee cushion on his seat in sixth grade, and when he sat, he got such a surprise he fell off his chair, hitting the edge of his desk on the way down, splitting open his eyebrow. Ms. Beauton hadn't been impressed.

I don't know how I feel about the knowledge that the only thing marring Liam's perfection is a scar I caused.

Luckily, Liam begins to stir, which snaps me out of stalker mode.

Liam blinks sleepily at me, and a line creases his forehead like he's wondering how the hell he's ended up here in my bed. Anxiety spikes in me. Is he regretting the tentative peace deal we've brokered?

Then his face clears of all confusion. "You feel like working off some more of that animosity?" he asks in a raspy voice.

Happiness, with a side helping of horniness, shoots through me.

"I think we might need a preventive workout to survive the day together," I reply.

An anticipatory smile slides onto his face, and I use it as my invitation to reach out and touch his incredible chest, sliding my hands down the ripples of his abs, down to that tantalizing V that taunts me every time he's in his board shorts.

Liam's body is honestly one that sculptors could use as inspiration. It feels like a lie not to acknowledge that fact.

"Complimenting you goes against every fiber of my being, but shit, you have an incredible body," I say.

"You're not too bad yourself." He trails his fingers down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I mean, if the whole scrawny nerd look is your thing."

I push him so he's flat on his back and climb on top so I'm hovering over him, loving the feel of his cock firming against mine.

"And is the scrawny nerd look your thing?" I ask in a husky voice as I grind our crotches together. It's the world's most redundant question, given how quickly he's getting hard against me.

Still, I want to hear him say it.

He stares at me with hooded, lust-filled eyes. "It appears the nerd look definitely does it for me."

Then he reaches up and grabs the back of my head, pulling me down to capture my lips in an intense kiss.

Kissing Liam…there are simply no words to describe it. I never knew animosity was the missing ingredient in every other kiss I've had, but it appears to give an extra dimension.

Neither of us gives an inch. It's a battle of dominance as we each try to subdue the other with our mouths.

Fuck, I hate to admit that Liam's comment on the dancefloor was right, but it really feels like no kissing I've done previously has ever been in the ballpark of this.

Liam uses his superior weight to roll us over until his body is completely covering mine. Why does Liam's weight seem so perfect on top of me? Why does kissing him feel as important as breathing right now?

Judging from his dilated pupils and heavy breathing when he pulls away, Liam is equally affected by our kissing.

He reaches out to touch my cock, and I release a low moan.

"Holy fuck, Matthew," he says.

"It turns out there's one part of me that really likes you," I say hoarsely.

"I guess miracles do happen."

And then we're kissing and rolling over again until I'm back on top.

I reluctantly wrench my lips away from Liam, but it's only because I have a better destination for my mouth.

I shimmy down to where his cock is waiting. Oh, holy hell, seeing him so erect and hard for me blows my mind.

A deviant thought races through my mind, and I decide to indulge myself, so I lean forward to give his cock a long, teasing lick. Liam lets out a low moan.

I pull away. "Admit you were the one who put Tabasco sauce in my toothpaste."

"What?" Liam's pupils are blown out in lust as he blinks at me.

"In sixth grade, admit you snuck into my house and mixed Tabasco sauce into my toothpaste. I'll give you a reward for your honesty, I promise."

I give another swipe of his cockhead with my tongue, letting him know exactly how I plan to reward him.

Liam's head flops back down on his pillow. "Okay, okay, that was me. I admit it."

I take him into my mouth as a reward, and he moans, the deep and low sound sending vibrations through me as I work him over.

But it appears I should be careful what games I play.

Because, suddenly, Liam has used his superior weight to flip me onto my back, and he's hovering over me, a dangerous look in his eyes.

He puts his hand around my throbbing cock, but leaves his grip loose.

"Admit you were the one who put that stink bomb in my locker during our freshman year."

I'm so aching to be touched by Liam that I feel like I'll go out of my mind with want.

"Okay, yes, yes, that was me…" I babble. "Oh, holy god." Liam has rewarded my words by tightening his grip, giving me the friction I desperately need as he strokes me firmly.

He then wiggles down the bed and plunges his mouth over my cock.

Sweet Jesus. Being engulfed in the hot, perfect heat of Liam's mouth sends me into a state of bliss.

Abruptly, he pulls off to stare up at me, his gaze intent.

"Admit you were the one who sabotaged my costume for the Halloween dance junior year."

"That was actually Jana Murray," I say breathlessly. "But I paid her to do it."

He rewards me by taking me in his mouth again, then reaching back to tease my hole with a finger.

Oh, holy hell. I can't help moving my ass against his finger.

He sucks at my neck while he works me over, lighting me up from the inside, and I get desperate.

"Liam." I almost whine his name as I rock back into him.

Liam's breathing comes in short pants.

"You want this?" he asks.

Do I want Liam Jamieson to fuck me?

Apparently, more than I've ever wanted anything.

"Yes," I say, my voice revealing exactly how strung out I am right now. "Yes, I want this."

"Okay."

Liam pulls away from me and shifts off the bed, going to his bag.

I prop myself on one arm to watch him, my whole body tingling in anticipation.

His handsome face is serious as he rummages around to find a condom and lube.

When he walks back toward the bed, I'm expecting to see cocky arrogance on his face, but instead his expression is almost…uncertain.

And that uncertainty has me pulling him to me as soon as he's back on the bed.

Our kiss is blistering hot, and we grind against each other. Liam kisses me so fiercely and intensely that I have no doubt he wants this as much as I do.

I finally pull away, breathless.

"All those times you told me to get fucked, now you actually get to do it."

I feel a puff of his laughter, and I can't help laughing, too, because the idea that Liam Jamieson is about to fuck me is so ludicrous, yet I crave it so much.

My laughter fades into a soft groan as Liam presses the tip of his finger inside me.

He kisses me as he preps me slowly, with softer, gentler kisses than our usual frenzy.

But it only serves to heighten my arousal until my cock is dripping.

I wrench my mouth from his.

"I'm ready," I gasp.

And I get up on all fours, looking over my shoulder at him.

"Fuck, Matthew," he says as his eyes rake over me.

I like him saying my name. I like him knowing exactly who he is here with. I'm not some nameless, faceless hookup from an app. Even if he doesn't like me, he still knows me. I'm an actual, real person to him, not just a warm body to use.

Liam lines himself up, one hand on my hip. There's normally a moment I experience when I'm bottoming, a what the hell are you actually trying to do moment, but this time, I don't have it because I'm so on edge with anticipation.

And then Liam's pushing inside me, and along with the initial burn, there is so, so much pleasure, like nothing I've ever felt.

"Oh, holy fuck," he rasps. He presses a kiss into the back of my neck, and he sounds as bewildered as I feel. "Why the hell is this so good?"

I can't answer that question. I have no idea why either.

But it's reassuring to know it's not just me feeling this way.

Why does the person in the world who seems the most sexually compatible with me have to be the person I despise the most?

Liam plants another kiss on my shoulders, his hands reverently stroking my side, leaving trails of goosebumps on my skin.

"Move," I command.

Liam obliges, pistoning his hips, lighting me up from the inside.

"Oh shit, shit," he chants.

"Liam," I manage to get out in a half-moan. "Don't…stop…"

It's perfect. It's bliss.

I have never had someone fuck me this good. Nailing my prostate on every thrust, filling me so impeccably that I'm almost sobbing with pleasure.

And I can feel my orgasm building inside me, like a tidal wave that cannot be contained.

Liam reaches around with one hand to touch me, and it's all over.

"Oh, I'm coming. I'm coming." My words are unnecessary because I'm currently spilling all over the bed.

Liam lasts a few more thrusts before he's coming too, emptying himself into the condom, buried deep inside me.

I flop forward, and Liam comes with me.

He withdraws slowly, gently. He deposits one last kiss on my shoulder, and somehow, it lingers there, the feel of Liam's lips on my skin, like it's soaking into me.

I roll over so I can see his face. He smiles, and there's something so unguarded about it. I've never seen Liam smile like that before, at least not at me.

I find myself giving him a tentative smile back.

"That's the best way to work off animosity that I can think of," he says.

"Yeah, I can't think of a better one." I'm still breathless, so my words come out ragged.

My breath takes a while to settle because Liam is apparently a cuddler after sex, pulling me into him, tracing slow circles on my arm, a lazy smile still on his face.

I keep touching his incredible chest because, really, it's such a waste to just look and not touch.

Liam finally glances at the clock, and his expression turns to alarm.

"Oh shit, we're going to be really late for breakfast."

He's right. We have a limited time to get to breakfast, and then I've got to make my meeting.

We both quickly clean up and throw on some clothes.

My head is spinning, trying to come to grips with what just happened as we walk along the path toward the restaurant.

A dog is yapping happily on the beach as its owner throws the ball for it, and Liam pauses to watch it with a wistful smile.

He finally turns to me. "Remember how Max would never get sick of playing fetch?"

"I remember." There's a lump in my throat thinking about him. My parents had to put Max down during my senior year of high school, and I'd been devastated. He'd been such a big part of my childhood.

"I never understood why he preferred playing fetch with you," I say as we start walking again.

It was one of my pet peeves as a kid. I could be playing fetch with Max in the backyard, Liam would emerge into his backyard with a tennis ball, and suddenly, Max would be jumping the fence to get to Liam.

Liam gives me a sneaky look.

"There's an easy answer to that," he says.

"What is it?"

"I used to rub the tennis ball in bacon fat."

I stop in the middle of the path. "You did what?"

He shrugs. "I'd read about it and decided to test it out. It definitely worked."

"That's actually kind of genius," I admit.

Liam gives me another unfiltered smile, and my stomach gives a weird lurch.

What the hell is going on with me?