I shrug. “It's a kitchen.”
Paige runs her fingertips along the backs of the barstools that line one side of the island. I step over to the counter and pour us both a mug of coffee. I hand one to her and point to where Janice keeps the cream and sugar.
“It's gorgeous,” she says as she fixes her coffee.
“The realtor told me it's great for entertaining,” I say. “Not that I'd know.”
She smiles and looks away from me, busying herself time by checking out some of the features in the kitchen.
“You know,” she says, “people in town talk about you.”
I shrug. “Let them,” I say. “I don't care.”
“They even have a nickname for you,” she says. “But, it's one that doesn't really seem to fit.”
“Oh?” I ask. “And what's my nickname?”
She looks at me and bites her bottom lip, suddenly looking like she just got caught speaking out of turn and regrets saying anything at all.
“If you're worried about hurting my feelings, don't be,” I say. “I don't have feelings. And I couldn't care less what people think or say about me.”
“Because you're a big, bad CEO-type and everybody's beneath you?” she asks, a note of challenge in her voice.
I laugh softly. “You really have a hard-on for CEO-types, don't you?” I ask. “Or is it just a grudge against the wealthy in general?”
I see color in her cheeks again and she looks away. “I guess after dealing with people in your industry all these years, and having them try to bully me for so long, I've become a bit – jaded.”
“A bit?”
She rolls her eyes, a wry smile touching her lips. “Fine, a lot.”
I nod. “I can't say I blame you,” I say. “Some people in my industry can be right pricks.”
She nods eagerly. “Yes, they can.”
“To answer your question though, I don't care what people think about me because, in my business, you have to have thick skin. You have to develop an armor around you,” I say. “People are always throwing stones, trying to knock you down. You have to learn what is important and what's not. Choose which battles are worth fighting and which hills are worth dying on.”
“Is that what's help you get through this mess with your ex?”
I nod. “Exactly,” I say. “It hurts, don't get me wrong. But, having a tough outer shell has helped me cope.”
“That and Oreos and ice cream, huh?”
I laugh. “Exactly,” I say. “So, see? If Brittany isn't getting under my skin, a silly little nickname from people in town isn't going to bother me.”
“You're stronger than I am,” she says. “You're wrong though. You do have feelings. You're just better at hiding them than most.
I shrug. “Debatable. On all counts,” I say. “So, come on, what's the nickname? And why doesn't it make sense?”
“They call you Gatsby,” she says. “Because you're rich, live up on a hill, and are totally reclusive.”
“But, Gatsby was known for throwing elaborate parties to woo Daisy,” I say. “He was always around people.”
“Exactly,” she says. “That's why it makes no sense.”
“People just don't read anymore.”
She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “No, they don't. If I were going to pick a better nickname for you, it would probably be –”
“Boo Radley from To Kill a Mockingbird?”
“That's exactly what I was going to say,” she says.
We both laugh and stare into each other's eyes for a long moment. And as we do, out of absolutely nowhere, a sense of anticipation fills the air between us. My eyes slide up and down her body and the memories of what happened in the bookstore fill my brain. The echo of her moaning, the scent, and taste of her, fills my senses. I feel my cock stiffening. She's a powerfully sexy woman, but my attraction to her is much more than just her physical looks. She's captured my imagination in ways I didn't think possible.
And at that moment, every nerve ending in my body feels like it's on fire. I have to have her.
I set my mug down on the counter and walk over to where she's standing. She looks up at me with wide eyes as I loom over her. I hear her breath catch in her throat and she nervously nibbles on her lower lip. I take her coffee mug out of her hand and set it down on the counter behind her.
“W – what are you doing?” she asks, her voice a breathy whisper.
I don't say anything though. I simply lean down and press my lips to hers. Paige's body stiffens, and she doesn't react at first, but when I slip my tongue into her mouth, I feel the light resistance within her begin to dim. As our tongues swirl and dance together, I feel her resolve begin to weaken.
Sliding my hands around her waist, I press my body against hers, pinning her up against the island. Paige's hands are on my chest and she's clenching my shirt as our kiss deepens and intensifies. I run the tip of my tongue along her neck and give the lobe of her ear a gentle nip, drawing a soft breath from her.
She pulls at my shirt and I raise my arms, letting her take it off me. Paige drops the shirt onto the floor beside us and presses her lips to my skin, dotting my chest with her kisses. A moment later, she stops and looks up at me.
“Liam, we shou–”
I cut her off with another kiss, this one even more passionate than the last. Her body begins to respond to mine and she drags her nails up and down my back. I press myself against her, letting her feel just how hard my cock is for her. Letting her know how badly I want her.
She pulls her face back, her eyes wide. “We can't,” she says. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Later,” I say and lean forward, kissing her again.
I slide my hands down and run them back up her thighs, slipping them under her skirt. She gasps as I touch her through her panties, reveling in feeling how hot and wet she is already.
“Liam –”
With one deft movement, I slip her panties to the side and slip two fingers into her warm, wet little pussy. Paige's head rolls back and she moans as I begin working my fingers in and out. She's so slick already that my fingers move with ease.
I press her back further against the island behind her, banging my fingers into her harder. Her eyes flutter and her breathing becomes more ragged. I feel her body trembling and tensing, feel her pussy gently contracting around my fingers. Grabbing her hand, I place it on my stiff cock. She resists at first, but when she feels my hard rod beneath her hand, she greedily grabs it, rubbing it through my jeans.
“Tell me you want this, Paige.”
“I – I want this,” she gasps.
I slide my fingers out of her pussy and she looks at me, begging me to continue with her eyes. I slip my fingers into my mouth, relishing the taste of her juices. Her eyes are wide, and she watches me lick my fingers clean. With a salacious smile, I drop to my knees in front of her. Her scent and the taste of her are intoxicating and I need more. I push her skirt up and lift one of her legs, laying it on my shoulder.
She's staring at me with wide eyes and I feel her grab my hair, pulling it, pushing my head forward. I know she wants this. Wants my mouth on her. My tongue inside of her. So, I oblige. Leaning forward, I bury my face in her hot little opening, licking and sucking on her clit. She draws in a sharp breath when I slide two fingers back into her while I continue nibbling on her clit.
“Jesus, Liam,” she gasps. “Yes, baby.”
She's pushing my head with one hand, pulling my hair with the other while I work her pussy over with my mouth and fingers. I'm banging her in a hard, steady rhythm as I take her clit into my mouth, sucking hard on it. Her moans echo through the kitchen and I feel her grinding herself against my mouth, urging me on.
Slipping my other hand under her skirt, I cup and squeeze her ass, pulling her harder against my mouth. I drive my fingers into her hard one last time and I feel her entire body stiffen. She lets out a loud cry as she begins to tremble and shake.