Sure Bet (Out of Left Field #1)

15. Brooke

Chapter 15

Brooke

L iam proved himself a worthy opponent. I had no doubt he was aware of what he was doing.

His nostrils flared when I passed him at the table, and his eyes lit up with feral interest. The tight ball of his fist and the hitched breath when he realized what I’d done—I caught it all.

I used a generous amount of his body wash in the shower, erring on the side of overwhelming and obvious rather than subtle and undetectable. I wanted Liam to know I rubbed his scent all over me, and I wanted that knowledge to trigger a primal, lust-filled fantasy of me naked and wet.

Bold, brazen, and shameless—who was this woman? The unfamiliarity spurred me on, and the provocation encouraged me to keep going. His reaction was deliciously exhilarating. His eyes narrowed on me, and his lips parted as his breathing turned shallow.

Until my night on the dance floor, I hadn’t felt like a girl who caught anyone’s attention, let alone elicited desire or interest. But Liam? Liam teased and pushed, thinking he’d break me down, but he had no idea that his game had built me up. Concrete forged my resolve, and steel reinforced my certainty—I would win by asking for nothing while controlling everything.

Power coursed through my veins, a heady rush that made me feel alive, unlike anything I had experienced before. Shana was right. Each teasing remark or subtle innuendo cultivated my confidence.

The world disappeared when pressed against the kitchen counter with Liam heavy at my back. Whatever his intentions or motivations, Liam pushed and advanced with perseverance, more committed than I ever gave him credit for.

He was beyond formidable as an opponent. If I squeezed my eyes closed and got lost in my head, I could imagine this had nothing to do with our past, my pride, or a bet.

His fast breath fanned over the crown of my head as he pinned me helplessly. And my god, I didn’t want to melt at the loss of control, but I did. I practically folded in on myself, gripping the counter for support and biting my lip instead of grinding my ass against him and encouraging him to take me right there.

My heart pounded with each silent second that passed.

‘Remember, it only counts if you kiss him. There’s a hell of a lot you can do without kissing.’

I wouldn’t beg Liam to kiss me, though I considered begging for other things. But that wasn’t the point of this, was it?

‘Get him to beg you to kiss him.’

His sinful whispers would be delicious when he begged me to give him what he wanted. My knees nearly collapsed with the fantasy, the anticipation, the power.

“Do you need me to move?” I said casually.

He shifted, subtly rubbing against me. “That depends on the movement.”

Enough to tease, but not a straightforward invitation. His hand rested on the cupboard as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

I gave a testing wiggle of my hips. Forget decency and forget pride. He didn’t have to kiss me to pound into me and ease the ache and longing.

Liam’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the cupboard. He loitered for another agonizing beat, then grabbed a glass and gave me distance.

The air again returned to my lungs, and I slowly settled into a more tolerable equilibrium. My body automatically responded to his proximity and his attention, no matter how hard I tried to control myself. But I think... I think he might have responded the same to me.

Biting my lip, I smiled. “You want to listen to something while we eat?”

It was a casual ask, and he must have heard it as such because he filled his water glass and muttered for me to put on whatever I wanted as he set the table for the two of us. It felt like a date—the entire day could have been a date with any other person. The night before, too.

Was I being foolish to play into it? To embrace confidence and do what I wanted without overthinking or holding myself back? This was so unlike me… or was it? Maybe it was simply unlike anything I’d allowed.

Liam pulled out the chair for me before taking his own seat. I focused on my phone, finding just the right entertainment for a shared meal.

“I hope it’s okay through the phone. My Bluetooth isn’t synced to the kitchen speaker.” To avoid this scenario from playing out accidentally . I hit play, and the narrator barreled into the room with a deep timbre that practically rocked Liam right out of his chair.

“In the tranquil embrace of the river’s gentle current, the princess surrendered herself to the cool waters, her alabaster skin aglow in the marbled sunlight filtering through the foliage. Hidden under the cover of the bank’s forest, the groundskeeper witnessed her divine beauty. His heart quickened with a forbidden desire, his gaze drinking in the delicate curves of her naked form, yet he dared not reveal his presence. The price of such spying was one he could not afford to pay, but Murphy proved too weak to fight his most primitive urges.”

Liam choked on his water. “Christ, Brooke.” He clapped his hand over his chest, coughing. “I thought you’d put on some music or a fucking podcast.”

“I’m sorry. I assumed you were ahead since Penelope hasn’t yet returned to the stables in my chapter. I thought I’d catch up.” I shrugged one shoulder, picking at the food in front of me. “Unless you can’t handle listening together.”

He puffed a slow breath, muttering something unintelligible before smiling at me. “I’d love nothing more. Please continue. You might find the anticipation titillating.”

“I’m sure I will,” I agreed, resuming the audiobook.

“Her pert nipples rose like the grandest mountain peaks during the sacred intimacy of her bathing. Every delicate motion of her graceful cleanse stirred something sinful within him, igniting a tempestuous yearning that threatened to consume him whole. Though Penelope remained oblivious to his clandestine gaze, in that fleeting moment, amidst the murmuring melodies of the river, the poor groundskeeper permitted himself the brief fantasy that the princess would ever return his longing.”

Liam’s eyes bore into me, awaiting my reaction. Perhaps he derived the same sense of confidence and accomplishment with a blush or a shy gesture—a tuck of hair behind my ear or averting my eyes.

Not tonight. I stared right back. “Titillating,” I whispered.

The muscle in his jaw flexed, and he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Just wait.”

We resumed eating, the air tense enough to chew with our food. A collection of my favorite dishes from Sushi Time, a little hole in the wall around the corner with the best salmon rolls. I swear, they were orgasmic.

“Enraptured by the lines of the princess’s soft body and emboldened by the cover of the foliage, Murphy freed himself from his breeches. Aching and heavy, he stroked with vigor.”

Chopsticks scratched across the plate as my hold on them slipped.

Do not blush! I reached for my water, chugging it.

A smile toyed on the corners of Liam’s lips. “Voyeurism makes you blush? Or self-pleasure?”

“It’s the wasabi, actually.” I pushed my plate aside and paused the audiobook. “I’m a grown woman. I can handle voyeurism and self-pleasure, thankyouverymuch. ” I rose from my seat to clear my plate, offering to take his. “Thank you for dinner.”

The shine in Liam’s eyes increased my agitation. His fingers drummed over the table, one by one, in a slow roll. He didn’t drop his smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Brooke.”

Son of a bitch.

“No, no. The pleasure is mine.” I dumped the dishes in the sink, smiling curtly.

What a weird tug of war, but I wanted the pleasure! This was my provocative moment! The body wash, the audiobook… mine. It was mine. The control was supposed to be mine.

Liam hummed, getting up. “I’m going to hit the shower. Leave the dishes. I’ll get them when I’m done.”

The fucking swagger in that strut down the hallway in those shorts .

“The pleasure is mine!” I called behind him, but he was already in the bathroom. There was no point in continuing to yell beyond a closed door. He wouldn’t hear me. Except…

I tilted my head, leaning over the kitchen counter to peek down the hall. A broad fragment of light illuminated the floor through the cracked door.

Because Liam hadn’t closed it.

The pleasure was mine.

It accompanied the guilt of tiptoeing into the hallway outside the bathroom to… investigate.

What if he slipped on the slick tile, knocked his head on the vanity, and that was why he hadn’t shut the door? It was my civic duty to ensure his safety. The neighborly thing to do. Selfless and valiant and considerate.

I breezed by with a glance, catching the flash of his silhouette through the wide crack. Okay. Proof of life. I nearly smacked into the wall when I flipped a quick one-eighty and spun to give one more pass. Then one more, and another, until I paced outside.

There was no mistake here. He left the door open intentionally. But why?

Was this an invitation? Did I want it to be? Did he want it to be? An invitation for what?

An invitation to lose the bet, dummy.

Of course. He wanted to feel like a king in his castle of righteousness, proven correct in his blustering claims of my desire, and enjoy my apology while maintaining housing.

I would give him nothing!

Except for a quick peek.

God, I related to the salaciously depraved Groundskeeper Murphy, spying on Princess Penelope as she bathed…

Oh. Shit.

I stilled at the door, my eyes stubborn and my willpower abysmal. Liam faced the shower glass as the water warmed, keeping his profile to me. He reached for the hem of his shirt, his fingers grazing the fabric before he slowly pulled it over his head. His shoulders relaxed, and he let the cotton fall to the floor.

‘Voyeurism makes you blush?’

Each movement was deliberate, almost theatrical, and I suddenly understood. He wanted me to watch him.

His broad chest rose and fell with every breath, accentuating the contour of his muscles. Strong shoulders and curved biceps framed the hard planes of his torso and defined obliques. Lithe and powerful muscularity without the bulk of his athletic career, but still a force of rugged fitness.

With effortless confidence, his hands slid into the band of his shorts and pushed them down.

I gasped, spinning to flatten against the wall and give him privacy. Voyeurism had limits, surely. He tested me, and I failed. I had looked, but even looking had limits. Limits. What were his limits? What were mine?

I am such a creep.

The hinges on the shower glass squeaked, and the sound of feet slapping on wet tile indicated he got in. Curiosity overpowered me, maybe a bit of heat, too, and I allowed one last look, swearing I would keep it waist up.

I would.

His hand hit the tile with a smack, and he hung his head. Was he going to…

‘Voyeurism makes you blush? Or self-pleasure?’

He released a groan so low it curled my toes. My hands flew over my mouth, and I whirled around and pressed against the wall, squeezing my pervy eyes closed.

“Oh, fuck. Yes. Feels so good. I needed this,” he murmured roughly.

My eyes squeezed tighter, and every muscle in my body tensed.

“Been thinking of this all goddamn day. Christ. Yes.”

Heat licked up my spine, desire flickering to life as I pressed my thighs together and admitted defeat.

But those sounds, the groans and grunts and curses. I’d never been with a noisy man before, either in dirty talk or vocal cues. My imagination danced with filthy imagery of what Liam was doing behind the partially closed door as steam billowed around him and he worked his body to pleasure.

He grunted, and, oh my god, why is grunting sexy?

A rumbling laugh echoed against the tile. “Maybe I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about this.”

My eyes flew open as my jaw fell to the floor. The heavy thunder of my heart and the warmth flooding my cheeks left me ready to collapse in a heap of embarrassment and humiliation.

He knew.

The water shut off, pulling me out of my paralysis, and I glanced around in a panic. Darting into my room would look suspicious. No, I had to play it cool. I did not just spend ten minutes perving outside of the door, and Liam would not get this pleasure!

I sprinted to the living room like an idiot, light on my bare feet and praying he couldn’t hear my frenzied retreat. Safely on the couch, I fumbled with the remote and managed to turn on the TV just as the bathroom door opened, and Liam stepped out in only a towel.

He glanced down the hall, his amused eyes landing on me. “Oh, Brooke. I didn’t see you there.”

My heart stumbled before finding its rhythm again. New You, New You, New You. Each beat steadied with my determination. He left the door open. I just happened to notice.

I held my chin high. “How was your shower?”

A seductive smile curled on the corner of his lips. “Satisfying. Though I had to be quick. You didn’t leave much hot water.”

“Sorry,” I whispered, my attention on the towel that hung low on his hips, revealing the cut lines of his form. Water droplets from his hair trickled in rivulets over his shoulder and down his pectoral muscles. My thirsty eyes locked on the drop curving around his nipple.

“What are you watching?”

“Huh?” I blinked, forcing my gaze to meet his even though I wanted to watch that droplet slide through the trail of hair beneath his navel. “Nothing!”

Liam clutched the knot in the towel and jutted his chin toward the TV. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Oh. Right. Um.” I squinted at the TV. Dark shadows twisted through an empty room with concrete walls. A pale figure curled in the corner, rocking in a tight ball as an ominous melody played through the screen.

“Holy shit, is this The Haunting of Shadowvale Manor?” Liam inched into the living room. “I hear it’s terrifying.” His eyes flickered to me. “I thought you hated horror movies.”

“New Me,” I ground out, forcing a breezy laugh with the lie.

“You whined and complained anytime I put one on until my mom made me turn it off. Was that all for show, Brooke?” His eyes slowly trailed over me, dragging from my feet brushing over the carpet all the way to the blush on my cheeks. “Do you like a show?”

He knows. I know he knows. He knows I know he knows.

I needed to regain control. The ball was in my court. And beneath his towel. But I refused to let my eyes wander.

I tried not to die on the spot. “That was a public space and not an unreasonable request. Besides, I’m convinced you only put on scary movies when I came over.”

“You were always over.” He gestured to the TV. “Can I watch, too?”

I snickered and crossed my arms. “Not in that towel.”

“If you’re sure.” He grinned and eased his grip on the cotton.

I held up my hand to stop him, feigning interest in the foreboding lullaby droning in the background. I didn’t need Shadowvale Manor to find horror. There was plenty of it in every stupid thing I said tonight. “I can only handle so much ghastliness.”

Liam shrugged. “Guess I’ll get dressed, then. I’d hate to miss this.” He headed toward his room, casually adding, “I like to watch, too.”