His Assignment: Chapters 6-10

Chapter 6

Liam is too quiet.

I wonder what he’s like when he’s truly angry. I’ve most definitely annoyed him a few times, maybe even made him a bit mad, but I want to see him furious. From a first glance he seems the type to resort to violence and hate-filled threats, but now I’m not so sure.

He looks scary, yes, but it’s hard to imagine the man who does an hour of stretching every morning as a cold-blooded murderer.

My father wouldn’t have hired him if he wasn’t, though.

I want to ask, but I know he wouldn’t give me an honest answer if I did. He’ll lie to me just as my useless father has my entire life, probably assuming I’m too fragile and weak to handle the truth.

Liam hums some tune I’ve never heard before, the man more than a little content with this morning’s catch. I thought he was so foolish yesterday when he spent all afternoon working on his animal traps, but it seems to have paid off.

His eyes meet mine for a brief moment when I approach and sit on the barstool. I’ve never seen somebody prepare an animal like this before, and I can’t lie and say it’s not interesting.

It seems like Liam knows what he’s doing, and makes quick work of lying the animal on its back and cutting up its belly. It’s a gruesome image, and I struggle not to wince as blood pours onto the paper towels he’s laid out on the counter.

I lean in closer, eager to get a better view as Liam tilts his knife to the side and starts to slice the skin away from the meat. He’s efficient, and I’m impressed by how smoothly he does everything.

“Do you want to help?” Liam asks, breaking my train of thought.

His voice has me jolting, my cheeks tinting red as I lean back and shake my head. I didn’t realize just how close I got to him, and clear my throat as I sit up straight instead of bending at the waist. Liam raises a brow, holding the knife out in my direction, but returns his attention to the animal when it becomes clear I’m not going to take it from him.

Instead he begins to speak, explaining in detail what he’s doing as he does it. I want to be rude and tell him I don’t care, but I know he’d be petty and stop even though he can clearly tell I’m interested.

“Do you do this a lot?” I blurt.

Liam pauses, his lips pursing before he shrugs and shakes his head.

“I learned how when I was younger.” He explains, clearing his throat before continuing. “In Boy Scouts.”

I suck my cheeks into my mouth, trying and failing to hold back my laughter. Liam’s eyes narrow as he watches my reaction to his answer, but after a moment a matching smile spreads across his lips. I didn’t take Liam as a Boy Scout type of person, but now that he’s said it, I see it.

With his dusty blonde hair and light gray eyes, I’m sure he was the poster child for their all-American style.

“Did you have lots of badges?” I tease.

Liam snorts, but his lack of answer tells me he did.

“Do you still have them?”

Liam ignores my question, but I’m far from done. This is golden, and I’d be dumb not to take full advantage of it.

“Do you like to put on your uniform when you have sex and,” I start, pausing as I struggle to breathe through my laughter. “-and make people call you senior scout Liam.”

My hands come together in a loud clap, and I completely fail to keep my composure as I slide off my barstool and hunch over the counter. I grab my stomach, the muscle hurting with how hard I’m laughing.

Liam leans back to look down at me, and rolls his eyes before returning to the animal on the counter.

“Oh, Liam, harder. Oh, right there senior scout.” I loudly moan.

I let another aggressively fake moan slip from my lips, enjoying the way Liam’s cheeks tint a light shade of pink. Am I embarrassing him? I love to see it, and I can’t stop my lips from curling into a wide grin.

“If you’re trying to seduce me, this isn’t a very effective way.” He finally responds.

That ends my laughter, and with a huff I straighten back up and shoot him a glare. I would never try to seduce him. The mere thought of his hands on me makes me want to vomit. Disgusting.

Liam’s finished removing the animal’s skin by the time I climb back on my barstool, and I resume my silent watching as he gets to work cutting up the meat. The tattoos on his fingers shift with each movement of his hand, and I find myself wondering what happened to him that he went from Boy Scout to this.

My father and I may not be close, but I know what he does for a living, and it isn’t for the faint of heart.

My dad doesn’t surround himself with men who possess a conscience, or morality. I’m sure taking an animal’s life is nothing when you’ve already done it dozens of times to your own kind.

Has Liam skinned a human the way he’s done to this animal?

I wouldn’t be surprised if the answer is yes.

“Do you prefer white or dark meat?” Liam asks, breaking the silence.

I shrug, not caring. I’m hungry, and meat is meat. I’ll take whatever he gives me.

Liam presses some seasonings on the meat before carrying it to the fireplace. There’s a grate that swings over the flames, and Liam uses some tongs to get it situated before throwing the meat over the top of it.

Immediately it starts to sizzle, and I watch from my spot on the barstool as the smell of cooked meat fills the cabin. It makes my mouth water, and I find myself licking my lips as Liam flips it over to cook the other side.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask.

Liam stills, but his shock only lasts a mere second before he resumes his flipping. I expect him to ignore my questions like he almost always does, but eventually he gives a slight shake of his head. It’s not a verbal answer, but I’ll consider it progress.

Talking to him is like talking to a brick wall most of the time. We’ve been stuck in this cabin for days now, and I’ve learned absolutely nothing about this man other than the fact that he wears a size medium athletic shorts and was once a Boy Scout.

The latter is still a complete shock to me.

“Are you gay?” I continue.

Liam rolls his eyes and turns to look me in the eye.

“No,” He responds.

Oh. So that question gets a verbal response from him.

I didn’t think he was gay, the man caught staring at my boobs more than once, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to ask. He could have just been admiring my necklace for all I know.

“Are you a virgin?”

I would be willing to bet my kidney that he’s not, but getting him riled up is fun.

“You’re starting to sound a little desperate, Princess.” Liam responds, ignoring my question.

I blink, taken aback by his words. Excuse me? I may be many things, but desperate is not one of them.

“Asking about my sexuality isn’t an effective way to get my attention.” He continues, his smile growing as mine falls. “I know you’re attracted to me, and that’s fine, but your attempts to rile me up seem a bit,” Liam pauses and sucks on his teeth. “-juvenile.”

Asshole.

I’m not attracted to him, nor do I want his attention. I’m willing to admit my actions and questions are slightly childish, but I don’t know what else he expects of me. He’s forced me from my home and job and stuck me in this dull cabin with absolutely nothing to do.

I’ve been denied contact with everybody but him, and he refuses to engage with me.

I’m only human.

Liam seems proud of my lack of response, and with a deep inhale I slide off my stool and crawl onto the bed. I feel sticky and gross, the spigot outside hardly useful when it comes to cleaning myself, but it’s not like I have many other options.

There’s no shower in this place, and I have a feeling Liam would say no if I asked him to take us to a motel so we could use the bathroom.

The smell of meat continues to spread through the cabin, and after a while I hear Liam remove it from the grate and carry it back into the kitchen. He fiddles around in there for a while before bringing me a plate.

“Thanks,” I huff, taking it from his outstretched hand.

Liam only nods before sitting on the bed’s edge and devouring his food. I want to kick him in the back and force him to eat either in the kitchen or on the floor, but I don’t want to play into his attention-seeking claims.

I can’t believe he’s gotten it in his thick head that I find him attractive, but arguing with him will probably only make it worse. He’ll likely just turn around and spin my complaints in a way that makes it seem like I’m being desperate.

My lips pull into a frown as I rip off a chunk of meat and shove it in my mouth. Liam’s always looking at my boobs, and I should have snapped back with that when he accused me of being attracted to him.

Liam may be an arguably good-looking man with his muscles and tattoos and all that, but at least I don’t go around ogling him as he does to me. Fuck. That would have been a good thing to come back with.

Next time I catch him looking, I’m going to say something. Long gone are the days when I politely pretend not to notice.

“Would you like to play a game? I brought a deck of cards with me.” Liam asks.

I lick my lips. He’s had cards this entire time and is just now saying something? I’m going to kill him.

Despite how much I want to say no, boredom has me nodding. I’ve got nothing else to do, and I’m desperate for anything that will kill a few hours.

Liam proceeds to suggest three games I’ve never heard of, but after much debate we settle on one that sounds mildly interesting and easy to learn. We only make it through four rounds before I get so angry we have to pause, and Liam’s mocking laughter doesn’t help as I pace the length of the cabin to calm down.

“You’re awfully competitive.” He comments.

I shrug, refusing to apologize for it.

“I like to win.” I retort.

At that, Liam lets out a genuine laugh. Those are rare to hear from him, and have me slowing my steps before I remember I hate him and continue my pacing.

“You’re just like your father.”

Liam’s sentence trails off at the end, but it’s still enough to have the good mood between us wholly ruined. I am nothing like that man, and can’t believe Liam would say something so insensitive. I’ve not made my feelings toward my father a secret, and anybody with a brain can see I want nothing to do with that man.

“Catherine,” He starts, clearing his throat.

“I’m going to bed.” I decide, cutting him off.

When I spin to face him he doesn’t move, the man continuing to sit cross-legged right where I like to sleep. I tap my foot against the ground, waiting, but Liam still doesn’t move.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” He admits.

I shrug, not wanting to get into it. He said what he said, and I don’t want to talk about it.

My patience thins when he still doesn’t move, and with a groan I climb over the top of him and squeeze into the space between him and the wall. The sheets are still unmade from this morning, and I yank the comforter over my head to block out the light filtering through the window.

It’s too early to go to bed, but I hope that if I go to sleep now, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and make my escape.

Liam won’t even see it coming.

Chapter 7

Liam walks too fast.

“If this is your attempt at an apology, it’s not a very good one.” I state, huffing as I struggle to keep up.

I’ve been in a bad mood all morning, much more than usual. I really thought if I went to bed early I would naturally wake up in the middle of the night and be able to make my escape.

Instead I slept in just the same amount, ruining a perfect opportunity.

“You’ll like this.” Liam promises, glancing back at me before slowing.

He was gone this morning when I woke up, both him and the car nowhere to be found, but it seems he did some exploring before going to the grocery store.

Seeing him return with the vegetables I’ve been begging for hasn’t made me feel any better, and I sure as hell don’t enjoy being forced to stomp through the woods now.

I’ve been wearing his shoes whenever I have to go outside, well, at least I was until I threw one in the fire, and the cheap pairs Liam bought at the grocery store are not at all comfortable. Already I can feel blisters growing on my heels, the sharp edges rubbing painfully against my skin.

I’m annoyed Liam didn’t grab me some new clothes, too. He should have brought me to the store with him, and the fact that he didn’t even tell me he was going has my anger mounting. At the very least, I could have given him a list.

I need underwear, shirts, and at least three pairs of sweatpants.

Liam dared to laugh at me when I told him this, and I’m starting to think he just likes seeing me wearing his clothing.

“Hurry up.” Liam huffs.

I don’t speed up, and shoot him a wide smile as I take my sweet time stepping over a fallen log. His fingers twitch by his sides, but he’s smart enough not to try and rush me again. One more comment from him and I’m going to stop walking altogether.

Then he’ll be forced to make the decision of either carrying me back to the cabin or leaving me here to die. Given the length my father’s made him go to bring me here, I have a feeling he’ll be picking the first option.

It’s a bit chilly today, but not nearly as bad as it’s been these past few days. The sun is bright in the sky, and in the few spots where it’s able to shine through the thick trees and reach me, it feels incredible.

“If you’re taking me into the woods to kill me, you should know I’ll haunt you.” I threaten, my eyes narrowing when Liam rolls his. “And I hold very long grudges.”

He nods, the action clearly done just to appease me, before he turns away and continues leading the way.

It’s another good twenty minutes of walking before I hear the water, and another ten before the trees thin and I’m staring at my reflection in a deep pond.

“The water’s clean, and I’m tired of hearing you bitch about having to wash yourself using the spigot outside the cabin.” Liam explains.

I blink at my reflection, embarrassed by the amount of ash on my face. How long has this giant smudge been on my cheek? I bet Liam’s been getting a kick out of seeing me walking around and arguing with this black splotch covering half my damn face.

I’m sure it’s from the fireplace, and I’m willing to bet I got it either when I threw his shoe in the fire or tried to divide our room and sat in front of it in anger.

Son of a bitch.

Liam sits on the ground and lays on his back, his eyes slipping shut as he lets the sun warm his face.

I watch him for a long minute before leaning down and touching the water. It’s cold, and I shake dry my hand as I stand and walk over to Liam. It’s not ideal, but I’d rather be cold now and clean later than spend one more day feeling this grimy and disgusting.

“Don’t look at me.” I order.

Liam opens his right eye, the man having the audacity to look bored at the mere thought of seeing me naked. His attitude does wonders for my confidence.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” He snorts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small bar of soap.

Absolute wonders.

I take the soap from him and hurry away. It’s a small bar, one you’d typically find in a hotel, and I rip off the plastic before setting it on a rock and peeking at Liam. He’s still lying on his back, not one bit of attention on me, and I rush to strip naked before picking up the soap and forcing myself into the water.

Fuck, this is uncomfortable.

My skin immediately breaks out in goosebumps, my body angry with me for submerging it in such cold water. I fight not to let my teeth chatter as I scrub my skin as quickly as possible, practically rubbing myself raw in the process. I do two passes of my entire body before lathering and putting some in my hair.

This is probably going to fuck up all my natural oils, but it’s better than nothing.

My hair feels dry and knotted as I tip my head back and clean it out, but I’ll worry about that later.

I keep my eyes on Liam the entire time, carefully watching to ensure he doesn’t try and sneak a peek at me. He never does, but I can see his lips twitching when I scramble out of the water and pat myself dry with the shorts I wore here.

I’ve been using the spigot to keep my clothes as clean as possible, and only feel slightly dirty as I grab my shirt and throw it over my head. It’s Liams, and is long enough to cover all my essential bits so I don’t have to put on the shorts I just used to dry myself with.

“I’m finished.” I state, clearing my throat awkwardly.

I’m also freezing, but that goes without saying. My body is wracked with shivers, and I wrap my arms around myself in a sad attempt to stay warm. This isn’t going to kill me, but it sure as hell is uncomfortable.

Liam nods before slowly rising. I expect him to lead the way back, and feel my jaw drop when instead he starts to strip. His back is to me, and I find myself staring as he pulls off his shirt and reaches for his bottoms.

Is he fucking serious?

Why didn’t he go in and clean at the same time as me or, I don’t know, clean himself first? He’s going to seriously sit here and make me wait for him when I’m soaking wet and cold?

Asshole.

Despite the number of tattoos that span his arms and legs, there are none on his back. The skin is clear, and I hate myself for how my eyes travel over his flexing muscles. Liam sure does enjoy the gym.

He’s not so large that I’d consider him a meathead, but it’s clear he could probably crush me with little effort.

When his pants drop, I look down. He’s got a good ass for a guy, probably also a product of the gym, but the color difference between his thighs and his cheeks has me choking back a laugh. Pasty boy.

Liam turns when he hears me, the man making no attempts to cover himself as he bends and grabs another bar of soap from his pants pocket.

“Enjoying the view?” He snorts.

I shrug, pointedly lowering my gaze.

His entire front is on full display, and I scan him with a low hum. His chest is not the same story as his back, ink covering a significant portion of his skin. His tattoos are distracting, and if Liam weren’t watching me, I’d probably take my time looking over them all, but I’m on a mission.

I look lower, continuing until my eyes settle on his dick. His pubes are neatly trimmed, maybe a bit grown out from spending this past week without a shower or razor, and his soft length hangs between his thighs without a care in the world.

I’m slightly shocked by the size of it, his manhood a bit larger than I anticipated it would be when soft, but that’s probably because he’s a shower, not a grower.

I bet that’s as large as it gets.

Liam straightens up, not bothering to hide himself, and I force my nose to crinkle as I cock my head to the side and shrug.

“There’s not much to enjoy.” I lie.

I expect Liam to be mad, or embarrassed, but instead all he does is laugh and turn back to the water. That was supposed to hurt his feelings, and I huff as he submerges himself and gets to work washing his body as I did to mine minutes ago.

He’s quick, and I hesitate before tossing him the shorts I used to dry myself with. They aren’t very absorbent, but it’s better than nothing. Liam should have grabbed some towels from the store.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, using the fabric to dry himself.

It only takes him from soaked to damp, and I watch him tug on his clothes before leading the way back to our cabin. This time I pay attention to the journey, wanting to memorize it so I can come here without him in the future.

I can probably pile up rocks to build a little pool where I can wash our laundry. It’s not ideal, but it will work loads better than the spigot. Liam doesn’t seem to have any idea how long he intends for us to be stuck in this cabin, the man useless, and I’d like to spend that time clean.

I’ll even wash Liam’s clothes if it means I can avoid having to smell his stink.

He doesn’t have one yet, and I’d like to keep it that way as long as possible.

“You’re welcome.” Liam eventually blurts.

I pause, my feet coming to a dead halt as his words register in my mind. Is he fucking serious? He wants me to thank him? For what? I have no desire to be here, and he doesn’t get to force me into these fucking woods with him and demand I be grateful.

I’d love to leave and never have to see him again, and I’ll die before I ever express gratitude for him forcing me from my home and life.

It’s not like I can go to the police with this issue when I’m returned home, and it’ll be a miracle if my name hasn’t been completed smeared through the upscale art galleries in the city for my disappearance in the middle of my shift.

Being in that world was my dream, my passion, and I worked so fucking hard to get that job at the gallery. I thought it would jumpstart my career, and now that is ruined.

Nobody of repute will take the risk of hiring me.

Liam has singlehandedly ruined my dreams, crushed them with little care all because my absent father decided to pretend to give a shit about me.

I will not thank him.

It takes everything in me not to lash out as I follow silently behind Liam, but the second we reach the cabin I’m crawling into bed and hiding underneath the covers.

Liam ignores me, like usual, but after an hour or so I hear him softly call my name. I don’t respond, and when I feel a light hand land on my shoulder I jerk away and curl further into a tight ball. There’s a quiet sigh followed by an even quieter request to play a card game with me, but both go unanswered.

I have nothing to say to Liam.

Even when the smell of dinner starts to fill the room, I don’t move, and wait until the sky has gone dark and Liam has given up on me before getting up and eating. I can feel him watching me patter around the small kitchenette, but he’s smart and doesn’t try to start a conversation.

He cooked fish and brussel sprouts for dinner, a meal I’ve been telling him for days I’m craving, and I eat everything he set aside for me before crawling back into bed.

I’m making my escape tonight, and nothing is going to stop me this time.

Chapter 8

Liam sleeps like a child.

I hold my breath and lean in closer, wanting to ensure he’s genuinely asleep and not just resting. When I notice his pupils fluttering behind his eyelids I have my confirmation, and carefully tiptoe across the room toward his pile of dirty clothing.

I have no idea where he keeps his keys when he’s sleeping, but this seems like an excellent place to start.

I move slowly to ensure I don’t make any noises, and make a pointed effort not to jingle anything as I pick up each article and search through it for the damned car fob. My eyebrows furrow when I don’t find it, and with a low huff I stand and head to the kitchen counter.

Still nothing.

Where the fuck are they?

If I were Liam, where would I hide my keys so the girl I’ve kidnapped doesn’t get a hold of them?

I’d probably just keep them on me at all times.

I suck my lips into my mouth as I turn to look at the giant man lying on the floor. The fireplace offers just enough light for me to make out his features, and I’m grateful for the fact that he’s lying on his back where I can see both of his pockets.

Stepping closer, I once more find myself holding my breath as I lower myself to my knees next to him and reach for the blanket thrown haphazardly over his waist. I’m glad it’s not all the way up on his chest, and am careful not to make any unnecessary movements as I lower the fabric to the bottom of his shorts.

I make sure not to expose any skin, fearful the sudden change in temperature will wake him up, and lay the blanket back on him in increments so the weight doesn’t disturb him.

The second I release the blanket I snap my hand back to my chest and observe.

Liam makes no new movements, his chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths.

That’s good.

It’s hard to see in the dim lighting, but I scan the area where his pockets should be. One side is flat to his body, clearly nothing inside them, but there is a slight bulge in the other one.

I’m pretty sure Liam only has his fob and one key on his keychain, so it wouldn’t look too bulky in his pocket. This small lump is the perfect size.

Now I just need to get it into my hands.

Checking his eyelids, I pause to make sure they are still darting around before leaning slightly over his torso and angling my hand so it can slide directly into the pocket without pulling the fabric too much.

This is a fucking suicide mission, but it’s the only opportunity I’ve got and I’d be foolish not to take it.

Willing my thundering heart to calm, I force myself to suck in one last even breath before easing my fingers into his pocket. There’s enough of a gap that it’s relatively easy to get to the first knuckle, but his shorts quickly grow tight after that.

He’s wearing the athletic ones I admittedly think make his legs look good, but the damn things hug his thighs more than I wish they would at this moment.

Grimacing, I wiggle my fingers just slightly deeper.

Bingo.

The plastic fob and metal key are right there, both objects grazing the very tips of my fingers. Planting my free hand on the other side of Liam’s shoulder, I hover just a bit more over him so I can have a better angle to dig into his pocket.

Don’t panic, Catherine.

I continue to hold my breath as I wedge my hand in just a tiny bit more. This is a stupid, stupid thing to be doing, but I have to try. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.

I hook my finger around the keyring with a triumphant smile, and keep my hand steady as I begin to pull it back out. Liam continues to breathe deeply, the man showing no signs of waking as I steal from him.

This is almost too easy.

I resist the urge to cheer when I see a flash of metal, and continue pulling until my finger is entirely removed and all that’s left is the fob and key. Tightening my hold on the metal ring, I maintain my steady pace and continue to pull.

This is perfect.

Before I know what’s happening I’m on my back with a forearm pressed against my throat. The keys are long forgotten as Liam hovers above me, his lips turned up into a snarl as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes.

The arm on my neck is painful, and I claw at it until he grabs my wrists and pins them to the floor above my head. I wince as he places what feels like all his weight on them, making it impossible to wiggle out from underneath him.

Fuck.

I was so fucking close.

It takes a second for Liam’s brain to process that it’s just me, and I watch that realization take place as his scary expression shifts into one of annoyance.

“What the fuck are you doing, Catherine?” He seethes.

I try to shrug, but that gesture’s hard to do when my arms are stretched far above my head. Instead it comes out as a sad wiggle of my shoulders.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Playing ignorant has never worked for me before, but it never hurts to try.

If he knows I was trying to steal his keys, I doubt I’ll ever get the opportunity again. This was my best and, I fear, only shot, and I’ve fucking blown it.

Liam doesn’t release me, and I frown before trying to yank my arms out of his hold. He’s made his point, he’s bigger than me, and I don’t like how he’s hovering over me like some sort of murderer. His grip no longer hurts, but it’s still much too tight for me to snatch my hands back to my chest.

He drops his hips when I attempt to knee him, crushing me underneath his oversized body.

“Let me go, you fucking brute.” I hiss.

Liam snorts, but the sound lacks any humor.

“I don’t enjoy being woken up in the middle of the night to you trying to shove your hands down my pants.” He states. “If you want to fuck me, Catherine, you’d have better luck asking me politely instead of this odd sleep molestation tactic you’re attempting.”

I still. What a fucking fool. Is that truly what he thinks I was doing? I’d rather die than ever touch this man in any intimate way. Liam sure has let his good looks get to his head if he’s able to get himself to the conclusion that I’m trying to put some move on him.

The mere thought is disgusting.

“You fucking wish.” I grunt, attempting once more to break free of his hold.

I can feel my face turning red at the effort, which Liam seems to take enjoyment out of as he cocks his head to the side and holds back a laugh. Nothing about this is funny, and his mocking is only pissing me off more.

I should have just grabbed a knife out of the drawer and stabbed him in the throat with it. Liam can’t fight me when he’s dead.

He seems amused when I tell him just that, which is the opposite reaction I’m looking for.

Liam continues to pin me with his hips, but lets up just slightly when I shift uncomfortably. I’m surprised he even cares, but I refuse to let that show as I spin and try to bite his arm.

He smoothly moves his arm out of my teeth’s reach, his actions lacking any sort of urgency. I hate it, hate his confidence, and wiggle some more underneath him in a sad attempt to break free. I bet he’s enjoying this, having me pinned on the floor with no way of escaping.

Liam’s sad and desperate like that.

“I hate you.” I spit.

Liam only cocks his head to the side, and I resist the urge to scream in his face and gouge his eyes out when I see the corners of his lips quirk upward. What’s he finding so funny about this? I don’t see any humor in one damn thing he’s doing.

I’m going to cut his lips off. He can’t smile if he has no lips.

“Well, that’s more than okay because I hate you too, Princess.” He retorts.

How fucking dare he.

He knows how I feel about that nickname, and I try to swing my elbows toward his head in retaliation. I’m hardly surprised when it doesn’t work.

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

Liam shifts, taking hold of both my wrists in one hand so he can free his other and reach between our bodies. I screech, thinking he’s trying to grope me, but instead he shoves his hand into his own pocket and lifts back up with the keys I was trying so desperately to get.

He dangles them in front of my face, letting the metal graze my lips. I turn my head away, mental images of burning him alive flashing through my mind as he sets the keys on the floor next to my head.

“Would you rather I call you a thief?” He taunts.

I truly, truly hate him.

“I’d rather you didn’t fucking exist.” I state.

“Do you?” Liam laughs, grabbing my hip and pinning it against the hard floor.

I flush, hating that he’s addressing what our lower halves were doing while our top halves were arguing.

“Because it sure doesn’t seem that way when you’re rubbing yourself against me.” He continues.

I open my mouth, ready to argue, but snap my jaw shut when nothing comes to mind. The sad truth is that I was doing exactly what he’s accusing me of, and the even sadder truth is that he was meeting each of my movements with ones of his own.

That could be a good thing to snap back with, but I don’t want to draw any more attention to it. Liam makes my heart race, and my body is simply just confused about what exactly that means. My mind knows it’s due to hatred, but my sex is slower to get the memo.

Liam’s gaze lowers to my lips, and I find myself licking them without meaning. I fucking hate him, absolutely loathe everything he is, but I can’t deny that he’s attractive and when he’s on top of me like this, pinning down my hips with his own, my body reacts in ways I’m not proud of.

“Bratty princesses like you are always the most desperate.” Liam hums, sliding his hand to my neck.

I gasp, at a loss for words as he curls his hand around the column of my throat. His hold is tight, not enough to cut off my oxygen but enough to draw attention to my breathing. His other hand continues to pin my wrists, but the hold is light enough that I could easily break out of it if I tried.

My thighs clench around his waist, and I glare daggers at him as he releases my neck and slides his hand down the front of my body.

I really should push him away.

If I were smart I would push him away.

Instead I arch my back, silently urging him to continue as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of the shorts I wear and tugs at them.

“I tried being accommodating and understanding, but it seems neither of those things is good enough for you.” Liam breathes, a cocky smile spreading over his lips when I lift my hips to help him remove my shorts. “Let’s see if this works to shut you the fuck up.”

Chapter 9

Liam seems to think highly of himself.

He doesn't even bother removing his shorts, instead shoving them down just enough for his cock to spring free. It's larger than I thought it would be, and I stare in shock as he closes his fist around the base of it.

That thing is not going inside of me.

He chuckles at the look of fear I'm sure is spreading across my face, his fingers flexing around the column of my throat. It brings my attention back to it, and I feel my sex clenching as he brings the tip of himself to my entrance.

"I'm going to fuck you, and I don't want to hear a word from you the entire fucking time." He grunts, rubbing himself against me. "For once in your life, I want you to listen to me and shut the fuck up."

It'll be a cold day in hell before I ever listen to him.

Liam smiles when I don't respond, and pushes against my entrance until my body opens and he's inside. He's gentler than I thought he would be, easing in a few inches before pulling back out and repeating the process. Each time he drives in further, and by the time he's filled me with the entirety of himself, I'm panting.

I don't like how he flexes his hand against my neck until I have no choice but to look at his face. His expression is unreadable, but I can tell by the way his eyes dart over mine that he's trying to understand if this is okay.

I refuse to assure him with my words, and instead lick my lips before spreading my thighs further.

"You're soaked, Catherine." He laughs, taunting me. "All that talk about how you don't want me, but here you are dripping down my cock."

I'd spit in his eye if I weren't so afraid it would make him stop.

He can make fun of me all he wants, but at the end of the day he's the one fucking me. He's the one who pulled off my shorts and sunk himself inside of me. I may be wet, but it's Liam who releases my neck so he can grab me behind my knees and shove my thighs into my chest.

The warmth from the fire blazing on my left, coupled with Liam's body heat, has me sweating, and I wrap my arms around my knees to hold them still he leans over my frame and drives himself in deeper.

Despite how hard I try, I can't stop the noises that pour from my throat, unwanted grunts slipping from between my lips with each hard thrust. It feels good, too good, and this particular angle has Liam's stomach rubbing against my clit with each movement.

I clench my jaw to try and stop my moaning, not wanting Liam to hear how much I like this.

He'd enjoy that too much.

"You asked if I was a virgin. Tell me, Catherine, am I fucking you like a virgin?" Liam breathes.

I ignore him, which he doesn't seem to appreciate as he shoves his hand underneath my neck so he can grab a fistful of my hair and yank my head back. My scalp burns, but it's hard to focus on it when I'm being stuffed full with a dick larger than it has any business being.

"Am I, Catherine?" He repeats.

I glare, my hatred for him growing as I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my nails into his back. He hisses as I drag them down, his back arching as he loses his pace for a brief moment. I bask in the victory, and scratch him again for good measure before he can remove my hands.

He doesn't, and I continue to mark up his skin as he reaches between us and connects his thumb to my clit.

Fuck.

My eyes roll back, and I don't care what he thinks of me as I moan and clench around him. I can hear how wet I am with each of his thrusts, and rock back against them as I feel my orgasm grow. I'm so close, and I can tell Liam senses that as he lowers his lips to my ear.

"You can act like a bratty princess all you want, but we both know the truth. At your core, you're nothing more than a needy, desperate whore." He seethes.

Fuck.

I stiffen, and slam a hand over my mouth as I climax.

Liam continues to fuck me through it, not even slowing to let me adjust as he seeks out his own orgasm.

"Are you on birth control?" He pants.

I take pride when a low moan follows his words, the man finally breaking. He's enjoying this more than he lets on. He enjoys me and my body, and the way he frantically shoves up my shirt so he can see my bare chest proves just that.

Another groan slips from his lips as he eyes my boobs, both of them bouncing each time he slams himself into me. He's cupping one a moment later, his soft hold a sharp contradiction to his hard thrusts.

"I have the implant." I assure.

Liam reaches for my arm to feel for himself, his fingers prodding at the small stick in my bicep before he's once more pinning my wrists above my head. His body easily spans over mine, and I stare up at him as he buries himself into me and drops his face into my neck.

His lips graze my skin as he grunts, his movements stilling as he releases inside me.

I pant, struggling to catch my breath as I try to make sense of what just happened. This was a bad, bad idea.

Slyly I reach for the keys he threw to the side earlier, but he grabs and moves them out of my reach before I can even curl my fingers around them. How did he know I was going for them? He isn't even looking in that direction.

Liam remains inside me, and after a few seconds I clench around his softening length as a reminder. He pulls out, and the silence between us feels deafening as he drags his shorts back over his hips and sits on his heels.

"Fuck." He whispers.

I nod, not having much else to say.

"I'm sorry for calling you a whore."

I want to die. I want to get up, get dressed, walk to the small pond Liam brought me to the other day, then fucking drown in it.

"You called me needy and desperate, too." I state.

"I'm only apologizing for the untrue things I said."

Liam smirks before turning in search of my shorts he tossed aside earlier. The motion exposes his back, and I feel my own smile growing as I scan the long marks I put on his skin. I'm sure they hurt, and I even drew blood to the surface in some spots. He will be feeling those for days.

Good.

I'm happy to be the reason he's in pain.

"Come on," Liam eventually huffs, standing and dumping my shorts onto my belly.

I frown, uncomfortable as I rise and put them on. Letting him finish in me was a mistake, and now I'm sticky and dripping.

Liam walks to the back door, and spins to look at me when he realizes I'm not following. Why's he want to leave? It's cold and pitch black out there.

I head to the sink instead.

We usually use the spigot outside whenever we need water since it's so hard to fill the reservoir for the sink, but I'm not going out there right now. I'll give myself a whore bath just like in my good old college days.

"You need to pee." Liam states.

I could cry.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

He shrugs and gestures toward the lower half of my body. I move behind the small island, not wanting him to look at my legs. He had his opportunity to see them, and much more, and now that time is over.

Having sex with him was physically enjoyable, but not mentally. I hate Liam, and letting him inside me will confuse his sad, stupid mind. The last thing I want is him getting it in his head that something is going on between us.

Not that he ever would, but still.

"I'm not trying to deal with you when you've got a UTI." He explains.

"Jesus, fuck, Liam." I huff.

I hate when he's right and even more when he tries to make me feel dumb about my body. Liam holds open the door for me, and I avoid eye contact as I storm past him. I wait outside the outhouse as he clears it of spiders, and hurry inside and force out some pee before they come crawling back out of hiding.

Liam's already gone back inside when I finally leave, and I'm about ready to yell at him for it until I step inside and realize he's warming a pot of water.

"Why?" I ask, pointing to it.

He sticks a finger inside to test the temperature before grabbing a heating pad and pulling it off the grate. I watch as he carries it to the counter and sets it down, still not understanding what he thinks he's doing.

If he tries cooking some soup or something, I'm going to kill him. It's late, and I will rip out my hair if I have to listen to the mouth sounds of him eating when I'm trying to sleep.

"Do you want to clean your vagina with freezing cold water?" He asks.

I purse my lips, embarrassed he's acting like this.

"I'm not your fucking girlfriend, and I don't need all this-" I pause and gesture wildly in his direction. "-aftercare."

He only shrugs, seemingly unconcerned as he turns and heads back to his floor bed. It's all messed up from our encounter, and he takes a moment to fix all the blankets and pillows before lying down. He's facing away, and after a long minute of staring I turn toward the pot.

I'm sure he's getting a sick pleasure out of listening to me clean myself, probably feeling all cocky about how I'm still using the water he warmed for me after all my complaining.

It arguably does feel nice, not that I'd ever tell him that, and I grab a clean rag to wipe myself and my inner thighs with. My body is still sensitive, and I check to ensure his back is to me before prodding at my entrance.

It's been a long time since I had sex, and Liam was well endowed. I can already tell I'm going to be sore, and only hope I can hide it. I don't want him to know, and press the warm cloth against me for some relief.

My cheeks warm as I recall the way he stretched me, and warm even further as the words he said play on repeat in my mind. I had hoped sex with Liam would be unenjoyable and boring, and hate that it was the opposite.

Glaring at his back, I hope my scratch marks hurt as I hang my washcloth over the sink and kick my shorts to the side. They are dirty, and I want to wear a clean pair to bed. I try to keep quiet as I sift through my bag in search of something acceptable to put on, and eventually decide on a pair of Liam's boxers.

He better not think this is my attempt at flirting with him or anything.

"Goodnight, Catherine." He mumbles as I crawl into bed.

I frown, wishing he would stay quiet.

"Suck my balls, Liam."

My words lack the malice I wanted them to convey, but it's the thought that counts. Liam doesn't say anything further, and I stare at the ceiling for a long while before finally rolling over onto my side.

I really thought tonight would be the night I broke free of this damn cabin. I was so close, my fingers on the keys that would grant me my freedom. I doubt I'll get another opportunity, especially since Liam will undoubtedly be more alert after my first attempt.

Shit.

Maybe I could try to seduce them from him.

I rub my thighs together, angry with myself for how my mind continues to travel back to sex. It was a one-time mistake, one we will never speak about again.

It has to be.

Chapter 10

Liam is quiet.

Too quiet.

Saying things feel awkward would be the understatement of the century, and I lay in bed pretending to be asleep as he walks around the cabin doing whatever the fuck it is he does to fill his time.

I'm pretty sure he knows I'm awake, but I'm determined to wait until he goes outside before dragging my sorry butt out of bed. Despite my attempts to clean every bit of himself out of me last night, my thighs are crusty from the cum that seeped out while I was sleeping.

Even thinking about last night makes my head hurt, and I resist the urge to scream and kick when I remember how desperate I acted. He's always trying to accuse me of having some secret crush or something on him, and I'm sure my actions last night didn't do anything to help that.

They've probably only made it worse.

As horrifying as it is, it was me who made the first moves. I was the idiot who took it upon herself to try and steal his keys and, when he woke up and pinned me to the floor, I was the same idiot who raised my hips to rub against him.

I know it, and I'm positive he knows it, too.

Usually Liam is loud when he gets up in the morning, but today he's suspiciously quiet. It makes me want to sneak a peek at him, but I don't want to risk getting caught.

I bet he's only doing it because he doesn't want to deal with my attitude.

I probably wouldn't if I were in his position.

My head burrows even further under the sheets as I recall the way he touched me and the filthy words he said. I'm by no means a virgin, but the men I've been with in the past have typically been gentle and quiet. They don't do or say much beyond the occasional moan, and I'm pretty sure they would've flat-out refused if I asked them to call me some of the things Liam did last night.

Not to mention how he held me down.

He read the situation and took action, something none of the men I've been with before have ever done. There was no hesitance in his movements or worry I wouldn't like what he was doing. He was confident, and I loved it.

Fuck.

I rub my thighs together, angry with myself for the warmth I feel spreading through my core.

What happened last night was a mistake and will never happen again. I can't let it. It's only a matter of time before my dad calls and gives Liam the go-ahead to take me home, and if I'm lucky, I'll never see him again.

I want as few memories as possible from our time together, and sleeping with him only does the exact opposite of that. When I lay awake at night with my hand between my thighs, the last thing I want popping into my head is a memory of him.

Disgusting.

Minutes pass, and eventually restlessness gets the best of me and I sit up. Liam turns in my direction, his head dipping in a silent greeting before he returns to sifting through his bag. I don't bother trying to figure out what he's doing as I push the blankets off myself and throw my legs over the side of the bed.

I was hoping he would leave and I could get up in peace, but it doesn't seem like he's in a hurry to step outside any time soon and I'll go crazy if I lay under the covers trapped with my thoughts any longer.

"Sleep well?"

My shoulders roll back as I straighten my spine and suck in a slow breath.

I can't even have ten seconds of peace before he starts talking to me. I should've tried to cut off his tongue last night instead of stealing his keys. That attempt might have been more successful, and I'd quite enjoy a silent Liam.

For a moment I debate ignoring him, but we still have to live together and I don't want to make things too inhospitable.

Although maybe if I did, he would feel compelled to sleep in his car or something. I don't think that would be too awful, and if I'm lucky, maybe it would snow and he would freeze to death in there. I'd have to figure out how to drag his body out of it before stealing his keys and driving away, but I think I could manage to move him in one afternoon.

I could call my dad and tell him when I return home, and he could send one of his little meatheads to deal with the body.

That sounds nice.

"Yes," I answer.

It sounds nice, but it would never happen.

I don't reciprocate his question, choosing instead to let my answer die off between us. Mustering up whatever shred of dignity I have left, I stand and head to the fridge. More than anything, I want to run outside and clean between my thighs, but I don't want Liam to see how much his remnants affect me.

If he can play it cool, I can too.

My body is sore, every muscle punishing me for my whorish actions.

I'm not surprised. It seems in line with the luck I've been having recently.

The fridge is stocked after Liam's latest grocery run, and I sift through the contents before grabbing a handful of grapes and shoving them in my mouth. I do this twice more before grabbing the carton of eggs and heating up a pan.

Cooking isn't my specialty, but eggs are easy enough to do.

Liam continues to make himself busy around the cabin, but I can practically feel the heat of his eyes on me the entire time. I want to snap at him to go away and stop looking at me, but I have a feeling he'd just deny it and somehow turn it around so I'm the one feeling embarrassed.

"Last night was nothing more than a weak moment for me." I blurt.

So much for playing it cool.

"What do you think it was for me?" Liam retorts.

I nod, avoiding eye contact as I scramble my eggs. I'm glad we're both in agreement there. I'd hate for him to think this meant something and get attached.

Clingy men aren't my type, and I'd like to keep Liam at arm's length. I shiver at the mere thought of him being all cheesy and in love. I bet he's ugly when he gets sensitive, and probably looks even worse when he cries.

My lips twitch at the mental image of him sitting in a fetal position on the floor sobbing.

"When was the last time you cried?" I ask.

I spin to face him, eager to see his physical reaction to my question. Liam's got this hard exterior, but I bet he's a whiny little bitch on the inside.

"What?"

His back is to me, but his expression is confused when he turns in my direction. I shrug, holding eye contact as I wait for him to answer.

"Probably last year when my dog died." He finally states.

Oh. I'm not sure what I expected, but that wasn't an honest answer.

"You had a dog?" I repeat, disbelieving.

Liam nods and holds up a deck of cards. I shake my head, the memory of him inside me still too fresh for me to sit down and play a game with him. If I were smart, I wouldn't even be talking to him right now.

"What kind?" I continue to pry.

"A Dalmation."

I blink, shocked by just how much I'm learning about this man today. I didn't take him as a dog person, or a pet person in general. If I had to guess, I'd assume he'd have a Rotweiller or some other breed with a bad reputation.

He'd probably also keep it chained up outside and feed it nothing but raw meat.

That seems very Liam.

"How'd it die?" I continue, uncaring if my line of questioning seems rude.

I don't care enough about Liam to want him to think of me as some sweet, polite woman. I'll save my manners for people I actually want to impress.

"She got cancer and was too old to undergo chemo." He explains, dropping the deck of cards back in his bag. "Her last few months were hard, and I'm pretty sure I cried a few times during it." He continues.

I'd mock him in any other situation, but I can't bring myself to do it right now.

Fucking bastard.

I bet he did it on purpose to catch me off guard.

Liam's always one step ahead of me, and I'm foolish enough to let it happen.

"Did you have any pets growing up?" He asks.

Why's he always trying to start conversations with me? I frown, grabbing a plate for my eggs and throwing some salt and pepper on top so they aren't too bland. They're a bit burnt in spots where I got distracted and forgot to stir, but otherwise look edible.

They'll do.

"I had cats." I admit.

"You seem like a cat person."

Liam's response is a bit too quick, and I stab my fork angrily into my food. He's not the first person to say that to me, and I hate it every time. Having owned cats as a child isn't the fucking personality insight people like to think it is.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I seethe.

I want to scream when Liam shrugs and smiles. His eyes crinkle at the corners, the man clearly enjoying getting a rise out of me.

For the life of me, I'll never understand why my dad chose him to be the man to kidnap and watch over me. I have no doubts Liam would push me in front of a shooter if it meant he had an extra few seconds to get away.

Fuck. Who am I kidding?

Liam would probably sacrifice a bus full of children if it meant he had a slighter higher chance of saving himself. Then the asshole would likely follow it up by going to the house of the deceased kids and offering his condolences in a sad attempt to clear his conscience.

I hope those imaginary children haunt him.

"I don't mean anything bad by it, Princess. Just that you're cute and cuddly like a cat." He laughs.

I don't think he's nearly as funny as he seems to believe himself to be.

"Well, you're dirty and ugly like a dog." I retort.

That wasn't my best work, but it'll have to do.

Liam doesn't seem offended, at least not like I hoped, and instead clasps his hands behind his back and approaches. I move to step back when he gets too close, only to panic when I realize the counter's in the way. I could run around it to escape, but I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me maneuver away like that.

Instead, I hold my chin up high and meet his gaze dead on as he crowds me in.

He continues until his hips are flush against mine, his body trapping me in. I suck in a shaky breath but otherwise don't react. Not today, Liam.

The muscles in his throat shift as he swallows, and I trail my gaze to his arms when he drops them on the counter on either side of my waist.

"Are you sure about that?"

Am I sure about what? I struggle to remember what I was saying before he took it upon himself to barge his way into my personal space. My hands clench into fists when I finally recall our earlier conversation.

"Yes," I confirm.

Liam only smiles, and when his fingers graze the back of my arm, I shiver. He slides his fingertips down my arm, and when he reaches my wrist he moves inward to the waistband of my shorts. I hold his gaze, refusing to be the first one to break it as his fingers dip into my bottoms.

"I'm going to fuck you again." He states.

I don't move.

His smile grows.

"You're not going to stop me, are you? You can call me all the names you want, but we both know you're desperate for it. Desperate for me." He taunts.

What a dick. His laughter grows when I push at his chest, the man finding great pleasure in pissing me off. I huff and straighten out my clothing before storming out the back door.

That's the last time I'm ever letting him put his grubby fucking fingers on me.