Liam appears in the living room at last, all freshened up. He looks better than before, smells splendidly, and I fail to hide my giddy smile at the sight of him.

"Done?" I ask.

"Yes, let's go." He hauls me by the waist.

We head outside and slip into the Aston Martin. Liam reverses it towards the gate, his eyes between the rear and the front. I didn't know a man could cause an uproar with the mere act of him driving. Got a lot to learn, Kira Jones.

"What?" Liam utters when he finds me gawking.

"Oh . . . Um . . . Nothing?" I give him my most innocent smile. He smirks. A chuckle leaves my lips before I say, "Perhaps I was thinking of you—as I've been doing a lot lately."

Past the gates, he pulls the car out while smiling.

"That's awfully soothing to hear. Tell me more," he remarks bluntly. I huff a soft laugh and he halts the car in the middle of the driveway. "Why are you thinking of me when I'm right here?" he asks in a deep voice, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Because I love you." My heart beats faster as the words come out effortlessly as though they've been waiting for decades to finally leave my heart.

The tinkle in his eyes deepens. I feel chagrined at the way he looks at me, his wide chest shoring on and off. He seems happy, almost assured, as if he's been waiting forever to hear the words.

He leans over and strokes my cheek with his rough knuckles. My skin shudders in response, and my blood flames as his face gets too close to mine, breath to breath.

"I love you, too, Kira Jones," he tells me gently, no doubt in his eyes.

I gulp tightly, and like a cue I grab his face and slam my lips on his, kissing him deeply and strongly. The heat of a strong carnal spreads in my body, turning me needy and wanting. Will it be a sin if I just let my desire win at least once in my life? I seriously want this man.

"Your lips taste heavenly, Mr. Darcy," I whisper as we finally pull apart, just a small distance to catch our breaths.

Liam sighs, a wicked grin on his face. "Aren't you getting a bit too daring recently?"

"I have you to blame, honey. I used to be the sweetest girl, for as long as I can remember," I reply flatly and he bursts out laughing.

***

Delicious pasta and meatballs in an Italian restaurant make up for our lunch. I specifically make sure Liam wipes off his plate without complaints, and he does as much. Now we're strolling alongside the ocean with our takeaway coffee, holding hands like good lovers should.

If only this was not illicit.

Smiling without any reason, I sip on my cold Latte, and Liam his second cup of Americano. This feels right. My hair flips accordingly to the breeze, giving me a hard time to cope, and a feel of resentment shoots for having too much hair. I should've left my two braids.

"Shouldn't we do something about it?" Liam looks up at me as I struggle.

"Like what?" I rumble a laugh.

"Wait a minute." He bends down and puts his cup on the warm sand. "Let me see what I can do to that beautiful hair."

What is he up to? I wait with so little patience as he strides around me. Carefully, he collects my hair into a thick bun, his fingers grazing my ears when he seizes every strand into one piece.

I mentally bounce up and down, excited.

Mutely, I hold my breath with anticipation. Liam takes his white handkerchief, and then he uses it to tie up my hair. Wow! It's not the perfect bun, nor a professional one, but it's comfortable enough. Plus, I appreciate the efforts more than the results.

"Done," he murmurs.

"Wow, Mr. Darcy! May I know where you learned the trick?" I whirl around to face him, my lips curved into a wider smile..

He shrugs heedlessly. "I'm a man of many talents, Ms. Jones, and you look good wearing my handkerchief," he cajoles me plainly.

I squint my eyes dubiously. "Why does the compliment sound like a mockery, huh? Do I really look good?"

Liam smothers a laugh. "Well, you do. Trust me." He moves closer, fixing the bun once more to his liking before snapping, "Yes! All good now."

Honestly, I'm not complaining. I may look like Minnie mouse—which can never be bad— but if it means seeing Mr. Intense happy and content as he is right now, then I'm totally fine.

The scent of salt wafts through my nose as the occasional waves wash over my feet. Liam is a little farther, avoiding the water, a smile on his face. He's holding my sandals, fondling me as I play with the ocean, the water cool against my skin.

But I want him here, not there.

"Oh no," I suddenly moan, feigning a muscle cramp or something.

As expected Liam rushes towards me.

"What? What's wrong?" He looks startled as he bends over to check my leg.

"It hurts, Liam." I hold onto his shoulder for support, and his eyebrows crunch as he takes a look.

"Here?" He touches the back of my leg.

"Ouch! Yes?" I fail to hold my giggle, and he immediately catches on.

He slowly rises up, heaving a very deep breath.

Oh no! Is he angry? Please, don't be angry.

"I–I was just trying to . . ." My voice trails off when he lunges toward me with menace. "Liam . . ." I take a step back, laughing with difficulty.

"Don't blame me for this, Kira." He swiftly throws his shoes to the shores before lifting me into his arms. Legs squirming, I yelp a loud scream that's muffled with giggles. "I'm only doing you a favor, don't you love swimming?" He heads in the water.

"Liam, no! Please, I don't have anything to wear," I plead, filled with both happiness and worries that he might actually throw me in the water.

He threatens to pitch me when I hug him tighter. A loud laugh leaves his chest.

"Oh, you are scared now?" he mocks me.

"You throw me in there, we go together." I tighten my grip around his neck, laughing along.

It goes on for almost a minute until he stills while watching me closely in the eyes.

"Do you promise to graduate from kindergarten now?" he queries, and his question doesn't stop me from laughing.

This man!

"Okay, I'll do that." I nod my head swiftly.

He downs his laughing face to meet mine, and a sweet kiss falls on my lips until my eyes shut. Like a punishment of a kind, he makes it short, just when it's getting better and better.

"You want more?" he asks, and I nod. "Well, work for it."

"What?" I snap and off he puts me down. "Scheming Englishman." I pout at him and he giggles boyishly.

We are now relaxing on the white sand. I'm sitting between his legs, reclining comfortably against his solid chest. It's heavenly when the cool breeze serenades my ears, its voice harsh yet soothing. I could stay here forever.

We take a silent oath for a while, doing nothing but watching the ocean waves crashing into each other, rising and falling, and the birds flocking in the sky above. A phone buzz drags me out of my reverie. I frown, but immediately smile at the caller's ID.

"It's Malik," I tell Liam, and he picks up.

"What do you want?" he asks, his voice cool. "I knew it was you so cut it out." He now smiles, kissing my hair. "Oh, so have you solved it?" he asks, and a little scowl appears between his brows. "Not at all, we're just around Dolce Italian and you're disturbing us, so I'm hanging up," he casually snaps and what follows is a very long laugh.

What are they scheming? I frown.

Liam hangs up, still laughing, and it drives me nuts that I don't know the details.

"Hey, why didn't you let me talk to him?" I whine.

"Because he doesn't have anything important to say," Liam replies. "Besides, this is our time, baby; just you and me." He urges me to lie back against him, and I do it with pleasure.

The evening is so far proceeding smoothly. Liam and I talk about anything and everything. He questions about my life at the orphanage, and I tell him the details with both joy and sadness whenever it's due. But all in all, I make no efforts when I talk to him.

It feels easy and natural.

"I can't say we were too deprived of happiness, but life can never be easy for any child growing up without their parents," I tell him softly, my mind running back to when I was nine or ten. ''I did miss my parents at times, especially when I was down for some reasons. It was hard to cope knowing I was never gonna see them again, and my home, too." I pause, my eyes suddenly moist and heavy.

"I'm sorry." Liam rubs my arms soothingly. I suck in a breath and smile. "So, when exactly did you leave the orphanage?" His voice is gentle, laced with melancholy.

"Um, when we were posted to a foster. A woman took care of us for like two years, and then we went to another, and another, until we turned legal age," I say with a rueful laugh, recalling how exhausting shifting homes felt like. "Sam and I refused to be separated; there was a time that she nearly got adopted but she ran away. We both did."

"Why?" Liam exhorts.

Because she loved me that much. Because we're sisters and she doesn't deserve what I'm doing to her right now. My heart tightens against my chest at the thought.

"She never wanted to leave me alone," I breathe, eyes on the ocean.

"I see," Liam returns. "And then what happened?" He sounds pretty interested to know more about me, but I'm not as ready to open up as I thought.

"And then it was my turn. This time we were lucky because the adoptive parents couldn't meet the requirements so I remained in the foster, and we swore to never let anyone separate us. Absolutely anyone." I let the tears spill down.

Just by thinking about the past I feel like the most bitchy friend in the world—and I guess I am.

"Okay, that's enough for today," Liam says stoutly.

He cocoons me with his arms, and a soft sigh escapes my lungs. I don't want to spoil the moment, hence I change the subject all in an attempt to run away from reality.

Just today, please.

"Do you happen to know Sheila Mateo?" I glance at Liam over my shoulder, and he seems to be thinking about my query. "The brunette who left with Malik this morning."

"Malik left with her?" he queries.

I look back at the ocean and say, "Yeah, and she looked pretty upset. You know her?"

"I know her," Liam replies heedlessly.

It sounds like he doesn't want to say much but I don't think I'm ready to settle for so little information about the pretty woman and Mr. Loaded.

"Are they in a relationship?" I take my chances.

Liam takes his time to answer, "They do share a history."

Oh? How elusive!

"Any romance involved?" I keep prying.

"Maybe in the past," Liam answers me anyway, "but it's strictly professional now." He leans over to kiss my shoulder, his lips soft against my skin. I flex. "I'm not here to talk other people so let's forget about Sheila now, shall we?"

Well, neither am I, but sometimes we live for curiosity.

"You're right. You might start thinking I'm a gossip." I pout.

"A gossip? No." Liam laughs heartily. "Perhaps a little snoopy."

"I'm not snoopy," I strongly deny. "It's not my fault that your friend has a reputation of his own."

"Not everything you read about him is true," Liam argues. "Those people who call themselves journalists are capable of making up just anything so as to sell whatever they have to."

Apparently I'm witnessing the male solidarity, and I must admit that I like hearing this from Liam. Malik always speaks highly of him, so it's nice knowing that he too has a high opinion of his best friend.

"And you? Why don't they write those sickening stuff about you?" I stare at him this time, determined to see his answer.

I hope it's not a filthy one.

"I just try to make my life private, that's all," he gives me a short and direct answer.

I don't like it.

"Does this mean you do fuck around but never gets caught?" I ask hesitantly.

"I don't fuck around, Ms. Jones." Liam chuckles. I roll my eyes. "But that doesn't mean I've never gone out with a woman. I don't celibate, just so you know."

Yeah, yeah . . . and you just had to be blunt about it!

"I see." is the only decent response that comes from my mouth, other than the crooked one in my thoughts.

I stay silent, embracing this feeling of the same color as . . . jealousy?

"Are you okay?" Liam queries softly.

"Yes." I roll my eyes again.

Does he think I'm dancing with joy hearing about his sex life? But wait, I asked for this, so why am I getting all wrecked up?

It's crazy how we, women, tend to start a fire with nothing to cook sometimes, and end up burning ourselves.

Smiling, Liam says, "You're so predictable, Kira."

"What?" I snort.

He hugs me tighter until I melt.

"But maybe I could start fucking around with you, and just you, if you agree to be mine," he whispers in my ear.

I erupt into a fit of giggles, and I regret using the F word with him.

"What are you saying now, Mr. Darcy?" I flush crimson.

Liam shrugs. "I don't know what you did to me to make me fall for you the minute I first saw you. And you were wearing the same dress you're wearing right now."

He remembers? I feel privileged.

"You have a great memory," I breathe.

"That I do. However, it is not the only reason why I remember," Liam says coolly. My eyebrow rises speculatively. "There was a coffee incident, plus the insolent gaze you kept throwing at me as though you were challenging my intelligence." He grins boyishly.

"Say what?" I feel wrongly accused. Damn this man! "I was never insolent. It's you who was quite rude, or maybe cold—I don't know how to put it."

"No, I think people confuse between being reserved and being cold. Not talking as much doesn't necessarily mean rudeness. I refuse to think I'm rude, for it's one of the reasons I don't make unnecessary comments on people and situations."

"Wow! You don't say! How perceptive of you," I mutter my sarcasm and he chuckles lightly.

"You are crazy, Kira." He kisses the top of my head, and for him I am crazy.