Love to Loathe Him: Chapter 48

Liam.

He’s standing at the bottom of the ramp, looking up at me with those intense eyes that have haunted my dreams, my nightmares, and every waking moment in between. My hands fly to my mouth, a gasp escaping before I can stop it. I’m certain my heart has decided to stop functioning altogether.

He’s here.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I struggle to breathe, my mind racing to catch up with what my eyes are seeing. He looks . . . different. Tanned, like he’s been out in the sun for weeks. His hair is a bit longer, curling slightly at the nape of his neck.

Before my brain can catch up with my body, I’m moving. Running down the ramp toward him. I stop just short of throwing myself into his arms, suddenly unsure. Is this real? Am I hallucinating? Did I hit my head during that disastrous surfing lesson?

“What are you doing here?” I choke out.

He takes a step closer. His scent—expensive cologne mixed with pure, raw masculinity—wraps around me, making me want to melt into his chest, bury my face in his neck, and never let go. I’ve missed him so much it physically aches.

“I gave the journaling thing a shot,” he says, his voice a gravelly rumble that I haven’t heard in what feels like an eternity. “I’m starting to think I’m overpaying those corporate therapists.” He smirks, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in his dark eyes.

His hands find my face, large and warm, sending electric shocks down my spine. My skin buzzes where his fingers graze.

“But then I realized I had to come in person. So you can see the truth in my eyes. No more games, no more bullshit. Just you and me, real and honest.”

“I’m listening,” I breathe, my heart hammering against my ribs. “What is it you need to tell me, Liam?”

He leans in, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot on my lips. “I love you, Gemma. I love you so much it terrifies me. I think I’ve loved you for a long time, I just didn’t allow myself to go there. And I want us to try again, for real this time. No more holding back, no more running scared. I’m all in, baby. Every last fucking bit of me.”

I suck in a sharp breath, tears stinging my eyes. “You . . . you came all the way to Costa Rica to tell me that? Did you . . . did you sail here?”

He chuckles, the sound low and rough and so sexy it makes my knees weak. “No, darling. I’m not that good a sailor. Sailing would have taken forty days, and I couldn’t wait that long. I bought a boat here.”

Of course he did. Because he’s Liam McLaren, and normal gestures just won’t do. I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or drag him behind the nearest palm tree and have my wicked way with him. Maybe all three.

“You bought a boat,” I repeat, feeling slightly hysterical. “You flew to Costa Rica and bought a boat. To tell me you love me.”

He looks almost sheepish. “I needed you to know I was serious.”

I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and crushing my lips to his in a fierce, desperate kiss. He catches me easily, his arms banding around my waist like steel as he hauls me against his hard, muscular body.

I pour everything I have into that kiss—all the love, the longing, the aching need that’s been gnawing at me since the moment I walked out of the Ashbury Thornton office and away from him. And he gives it right back, his mouth hot and demanding against mine.

When we finally break apart, we’re both panting, our chests heaving. Liam’s eyes are wild with arousal. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

“You had an accident,” I say, almost in tears.

“Don’t worry about that now.” He smooths my wet cheek and stares at me. “It’s been so long.”

“Show me your boat, fisherman,” I murmur breathlessly, my fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair.

I thrust into her, our hands intertwined as I gaze deeply into her eyes.

“Fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last,” I groan, my hips rolling against hers in a primal rhythm. “It’s been too long, and I’ve been dreaming about this.”

Every night for weeks, I’ve imagined her in my bed, my body wrapped around hers. And now, feeling her soft skin, staring into her eyes, it’s even better than I remembered. Her nails dig into my shoulders, urging me on.

With every ounce of control I have, I hold out until I hear Gemma’s breaths come in sharp, uneven gasps, her body trembling beneath me.

“Damn,” I growl, fighting the urge to collapse onto her as my own orgasm rips through me, intense and overwhelming.

As we catch our breath, she runs a hand down my cheek.

“Are you staying with me?” she asks while I’m still buried inside her. “In Costa Rica?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I have three more weeks here.”

“Then I’m staying with you, if you’ll have me.”

Her eyes widen. “What about work?”

“Work can wait. Right now, all that matters is us—healing together.”

“I’m so sorry I told Sir Whitmore you were lying and not to go through with the deal. I shouldn’t have believed Alastair over you. You were right—you never lied to me. Not even when you were just my boss.” Tears well up in her eyes, and I feel a pang in my chest. I never want to see my girl cry again.

I press a finger to her lips, silencing her apology. “Shh, darling. It’s okay. That’s all in the past now. And I’m sorry too, for telling you to leave the office.”

She smirks, mischief in her eyes. “For telling me to leave the office? For firing me, you mean.”

I wince, guilt twisting in my gut. “You had already quit. But please, don’t make me feel worse than I already do.”

“I deserved it,” she says, her voice quiet. “At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing. I was so self-righteous, so sure I knew better. You were right—I had no place interfering with Sir Whitmore.”

I take her chin gently in my hand. “Hey, none of that matters anymore. Do you know what’s most important right now?”

“What?”

I grin and press a kiss to her forehead. “Finding the best seafood restaurant for dinner. And just so you know, we’re going to be doing a lot more of this together.”