Unwrapping Liam: A Good Girls Don't Novella (4 page)

“Finished already?” she asked.

“I am,” I said. “Are you?”

She huffed and took a swig. “You think I’m a terrible bitch for making you face facts, but, Jillian, that boy is going back to Scotland in a few months.  And you’re right, he is good for you, but what happens when he’s gone? It’s time you ask yourself that before it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late.” I slammed my plate on the counter and ran out of the room before she could see my face. Before she could see that she’d rattled me. Tara had successfully spread her holiday spirit and it was spreading through me like a nasty, seasonal virus. Christmas was coming. The only Christmas I would ever spend with Liam, and she’d probably ruin that, too. Maybe she was right about girls like me—we never get what we want.

T
he Christmas tree lights had been left on, bathing the living room in warmth. The aroma of dinner lingered, rich and spicy, and the quiet house looked as if it belonged in a magazine. The last few embers glowed in the hearth. It was past midnight, which meant it was Christmas morning and the world felt magical. Tara always kept the lights on for Santa, and maybe it was sentimentality but she’d continued to do so even when I was long past the age where I believed in Santa Claus. Now it filled me with a sense of peace that I wondered at. After our disastrous dinner and show down in the kitchen, it amazed me that I could feel so content.

Stealing down the last few steps, I slid onto the couch, hugging my knees to my chest and staring dreamily at the tree. Something stirred in the corner of my vision and I jumped up, surprised to find I wasn’t alone.

“You don’t look like a jolly old elf.” Liam’s mouth cracked into a sleepy smile. He was nestled under two blankets in the corner armchair, and he slid an arm out to beckon me over to him.

“Waiting up for Santa Claus?” I settled onto his lap as he drew the blanket back up over us.

“I must have missed him,” Liam said, “because my present is already here.”

“It is, huh?”

“You’re all I wanted for Christmas,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.

“You already have me,” I whispered. “Don’t you want something else?”

I didn’t have to say what I was really thinking—that he was crazy for sticking around. After Tara’s not-so-gentle reminder about our dubious future, I wouldn’t blame him for having second thoughts. I loved Liam, but even I couldn’t see a way for us to have a happy ending. Between my condition and his student visa, this was likely our first and last Christmas together, and he had to know that, too. Why waste time?

Liam rolled his eyes at the question. “From what I can tell, Christmas in America is about getting lots of new and shiny presents. That might be fun for a bit, but I’ve always played favorites with my...toys.”

“Toys?” I raised an eyebrow. “Are you comparing me to your Tonka trucks and action figures?”

“Oh, you are much more fun—you make so many noises when I play with you.” His hands slipped under the hem of my shirt, moving slowly across my stomach. “And like any favorite toy, I couldn’t fall asleep tonight without you.”

“Were you scared?” I asked playfully, twisting so I could see him face in the dim Christmas lights. In the warm glow the strong lines of his jaw, the straight line of his nose, the slight dimple in his chin were accentuated. I felt a familiar flutter at the sight.

“Aye, I was.” The grin fell from his face replaced by the hint of a frown. “Without your beautiful body tucked up next to me, I felt lost.”

The playfulness was gone now. Instead, there was an ache in Liam’s voice that sent tremors running through me.

“But what scared me,” he continued, “was what you were thinking, chicken. After what your mother said—“

“I know better than to listen to what Tara says,” I interrupted him.

“You still hear her. You can’t help that. She’s your mother, and whether she’s right or wrong, you hear what she says to you. You’re only human,” Liam said. “For the record, she’s wrong. About you. About us. I couldn’t sleep because I knew you were in your bed analyzing her words.”

I kept my eyes glued to the hearth, shaking my head. “She’s right about one thing. There’s an expiration date on this relationship.”

Liam’s hands tightened their hold on me. “No, there isn’t. If you want out, that’s one thing. But I don’t care about my student visa or your mother, if we want to make this work, we can do that.”

“What about my condition?” I whispered. All the determination in the world couldn’t change the fact that I had Parkinson’s.

“You know what else is fantastic about Scotland? Socialized medicine.”

My breath caught in my throat and swelled to something that felt very much like tears. I knew what he was getting at, but I wasn’t ready for him to say more on the subject. My own feelings were too confused as it was. “It’s too soon to talk about that.”

“Maybe,” he said simply, “but it’s not too soon to think about. Have you ever...” His voice trailed away, leaving the question hanging in the air between us.

“Have you?” I hedged.

His blue eyes met mine as he answered. “I have.”

“I have, too.” But my voice wasn’t sure and strong as his had been. My answer quivered from me.

“We don’t have to discuss this yet,” he said to my relief, “but if you’re thinking about it, there’s something I need you to know.” He slid his hand from my stomach and caught my face, holding it so that I couldn’t look away. “I try very hard to be kind to your mother, but there is one thing about her that I can never forgive or look past. She’s made you believe that you are less than. She’s told you no one could ever want you. I know you’re damn stubborn, Jillian Nichols, but I need you to understand this. I want you. I want all of you.  Nothing can change that. I need you to remember that when you’re...thinking.”

I couldn’t do anything but nod for fear that I would burst out crying. Guiding my chin forward, he brought my lips to his, moving slow as honey as he covered my mouth with his own. I sighed into the kiss, melting against his chest as he deepened it. His tongue swept through my mouth, running quickly over my teeth. A moan slipped past our locked lips and I pressed closer to him as his other hand rubbed circles over my stomach. I was beginning to feel warm all over, the heat spreading swiftly through my arms and legs as his hand made it’s way down.

He broke away, and between his piercing gaze, as his fingers worked slowly but expertly between my legs, and the tightening beginning in my core, my head fell back, eyes closes, as he murmured, “Best present ever.”

The world unraveled around me, leaving only him and I and the passion building between us as he brought me over the edge with the rhythmic precision of someone who not only knew my body but worshipped it. Pleasure rolled through me until I could take no more and my legs clamped around his arm. Liam’s face was buried against my neck and when he lifted his face to meet mine, his breathing was heavy. His mouth crushed against my own as he withdrew his hand from my pajama shorts. It found it’s way to my breast, his thumb massaging and orbiting my nipple with teasing strokes.

I pulled away from him, ignoring his protests so I could drop in front of the chair. “What about what I want for Christmas?”

A smirk carved across his lips as he gazed down at me. “Feel free to unwrap your present.”

I pretended to turn toward the tree, but his hand caught my arm, and I winked at him as I made a show of dropping to the floor and settling between his legs. I undid his zipper slowly, my eyes still focused on his face and watched his reaction as I took him in my mouth.

“That feels amazing.” It was more of a moan than a statement. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before I could protest he was on his feet, lifting me up and pushing me toward the sofa as he fumbled with my pajamas. A few moments later his hand slid down my bare back and guided me down.

“Hold on,” he said, leaving me splayed naked on the sofa. Liam plucked a ribbon off a nearby present and wrapped it loosely around my neck. “Perfect.”

“Merry Christmas.”

His smile widened and he tugged at the ribbon drawing me toward his warm lips. I groaned when he pulled away, but he immediately took his lips on a traveling tour of my neck, followed by my collarbone. He lingered at my breasts before continuing on to my navel. By the time, he reached it I was barely aware of his movements, only of him and his presence.  Conscious thought seemed to flee me with the first touch of his lips to my thigh.  There was heat and tingles that built into promising surges that sent my fingers fisting into the couch cushions, but they would dip and disappear, leaving the tingles to shiver through me.  Over and over again, my body swelled with anticipation, only to be brought back to Earth still hungry and eager. Each time, my desire grew until its appetite seemed too large to fill.  I clung to the sofa, my skin alive and trembling, as Liam’s hand slid from under me.  My back arched, and I saw stars as my eyelids pressed closed.  Brilliant blue and gold.  Dazzling silver.  My world was full of fireworks that burned through my skin and burst along my nerves, shattering through me. 

I fell back against the cushions, tremors rolling through me. My legs pressed tightly together, but Liam drew them back apart and around his waist, nudging into me with a swift, urgent stroke.  My body responded instinctively, telling me it was too much.  Too soon.  I felt tender and new, but when I dared to open my eyes, he was watching me, his eyelids heavy with lust, and I forgot that it was too much.  Liam took his time, moving gently and slowly into me.  His hands steadying my hips, urging them to move along with his, and I found myself circling against him, opening wider, wanting more—needing as much as he would give me.

A hand left my hip and found my chin, turning my face until our eyes met. “I don’t want you, Jillian,” he said in a low voice. “I need you. Understand?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. I did understand, because that’s how I felt about him.

“Stop doubting that then,” he ordered in a gruff voice as his pace quickened. The pressure building in me stole my breath and with it my words, but something clicked then. I would do anything for Liam, why didn’t I believe he would do the same for me? That realization sent me spilling over the edge and I cried out, throwing my arms around his neck as his own groans began.

When our breathing had slowed enough to talk, Liam brushed a sticky strand of hair from my forehead and kissed it softly.

“Do you understand?” he repeated.

“I do,” I said without hesitation.

I
woke up in the morning tucked in my bed, feeling like Christmas had already come. I stretched out, noticing that my neck was a little sore from my extracurricular sextivities the night before. But it was Christmas morning which meant I needed to get downstairs before my mother ate Liam alive and left the bones under the tree. A quick comb of the hair and brush of the teeth later, I was out the door and bounding down the stairs. I felt like a new person after my time with Liam. For the first time all week I felt strong enough to face Tara and deal with all of her bullshit.

My parents sat, not speaking, in the living room. Other than their total silence it looked like a scene out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Roaring fire. Husband and wife in pajamas with monogrammed cuffs. Presents perfectly displayed under the tree. Clearly, all they needed was an overly-excited child to finish the portrait of domestic bliss.

“Merry Christmas!” I cried as I jumped the last few stairs.

My father smiled, but Tara’s somber expression changed to one of shock. “You are going to break your ankle, and do you even have a bra on?”

Perhaps that explained while I felt so uninhibited. I shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“Your boyfriend will be down here any minute,” she reminded me.

“Trust me. They are old news to him,” I said, plopping onto the other side of the couch.

I expected her to attack me again, but instead she was staring past me. I followed her gaze to the stairs and felt my mouth fall open.

Liam. My Liam. My sexy, muscular, tousle-haired, blue-eyed Liam was coming down the stairs in a kilt—and every joke he’d ever made about them was true. He looked like a god, as though an old-fashioned warrior was heading toward us. I took in the firm curve of his calves and let my imagination wander up and under the kilt. I knew why Scottish boys wore kilts. Did I ever know. And if I was lucky I might find out what they wore under them later.

“Happy Christmas,” he said in his Scottish brogue as he entered the room.

“And the same to you,” my dad replied, standing to clap him on his shoulder. “You look dashing.”

“Jillian’s always talking about kilts, so I thought I would surprise her.”

My cheeks reddened as he admitted this to my parents. There was pretty much only one reason that I would talk about kilts. I shot him an embarrassed look, which he laughed at.

“Shall we get started?” Tara asked, ignoring my discomfort and handing a present to my dad.

There was the usual Christmas gifts—scarves, pajamas, a tie for Dad—but for the first time in my life, cozied up next to Liam, I understood where the merry aspect of the holiday came in. Tara had bought Liam a few things, which surprised me and thrilled me at the same time. She even had the good grace to pretend she liked the Olympic State shirt I brought her, and Dad acted as Santa, doling out presents at precise intervals so we could watch one another unwrap.

“This one is for Jillian.” Dad handed me a thin envelope that looked suspiciously like a bill.

“Finally collecting all those years of room and board?” I asked.

“Now there’s an idea,” Tara said, but there was a smile in her voice. Even she had started to relax.

“I really hope it’s that pony I’ve always wanted.”

Liam’s eyebrow cocked up. “I had no idea you rode.”

My eyes widened and I choked back a laugh. Horror flashed across his face when he realized what he said.

“Be good,” he whispered, lightly pinching my arm, which sent a shiver running through me. Being good wasn’t easy around Liam.