Page 21 of Desperate Measures

“Wait! My coat,” I said, but Liam didn’t stop moving.

He lifted his hand and a black SUV with tinted windows appeared out of nowhere. Several men, all in black, seemed to pop up just then and Liam gave one of them directions to go inside and retrieve my belongings.

I followed him down the stone staircase, worried he might just pull me with him if I didn’t.

Admittedly, I was a little bit stunned.

Whether by Liam’s caveman behavior or by the fact he was so close to me, touching me, his spicy cologne infiltrating my senses, turning my brain to mush, to really understand what was going on was anyone’s guess.

“Get in,” he said, so close to my ear his warm breath tickled my skin just there.

He had one massive hand on my back, and I was stunned at how much of me he was touching. His pinky skimmed the top of my ass, and his thumb was pressed against the back of my bra.

Liam was basically pressed against my entire back with just the one hand.

I wonder what else he can manage with that thing.

With the other, he held the open SUV door.

“Why, I don’t?—”

“You’re my wife. We live together.”

“Oh! But that’s not what Margaret?—”

“You didn’t marry Maggie, Brat. You married me. Now let’s go.”

Brat?

He wore a naughty smirk that made my panties want to just about tear themselves off my body.

“Get. In. The. Car. Sweetheart.”

I scoffed.

Liam just waited, staring me down.

“Fine,” I growled and got in, annoyed at being handled by him.

Before he shut the door, I heard my sexy husband say something that had my ovaries exploding like fireworks.

“Good girl.”

I am so fucked.

Two minutes later, Liam slid into the seat beside me. He made a small grunting noise and nodded his head as if in approval.

I followed his gaze to my buckled seatbelt and had to bite my lip to stop from grinning.

I was pleased with myself but made no move to speak. In fact, I was a little embarrassed that I was happy I’d done anything he approved of.

It was silly. Juvenile, even.

Don’t be stupid, Micky.

Liam handed me my coat and purse, and I murmured my thanks, taking them from him, but making no move to put the coat on. The SUV was heated, and I felt quite comfortable.

“Where to, Mr. O’Doyle?” the driver asked.