Call Me A Liar [Book 1] (Justin Bieber Love Story / Fan Fiction)

38

I call Justin to dinner within the next hour. He's coming over to the kitchen table where I set his plate down and mine, before filling up two wine glasses with the wine I picked out from the store.

"I hope you like it," I say without turning around, watching the chilled golden liquid fill one glass, then another. The glasses immediately fog up from the cold wine, leaving small condensation droplets to follow.

When I put the bottle on the table and stand up straight, strong hands find my hips and pull me close from behind, loosely wrapping around my waist.

"This looks great," I feel him smile into my bare neck, pressing a hot kiss to my skin. "You didn't have to do this for me."

My cheeks flush. "Don't say that until you try it."

"I'm sure it'll be so good," he mumbles, his words muffled from his lips gliding across my neck and up to my ear.

I start to question if he's even looked at the table, or if he's even talking about its contents. I have a feeling he might be talking about me instead, especially when one of his hands so shamelessly slides up my torso, over my chest, where it loosely wraps around my neck.

He holds me in place while he nips at my jawline. His lips are wet and hot, but so pointed as they move over my skin.

My eyes close involuntarily as I selfishly enjoy his infatuation with me. It's so blatantly obvious and neither of us care. Neither of us seem to be bothered by just how obsessed with one another we are. It's so special and unlike anything else.

"Justin," I pant, my trembling fingers gripping his wrist that is still by my waist.

"Hm?" he hums, showing no signs of stopping his assault.

I gasp when he bites my shoulder. "I, um—"

He forces my head to turn and face him with his hand that's still wrapped around my neck. Before either of us can say a word, he forces a hot kiss on my lips that nearly takes my breath away but at the same time makes me feel like I could suffocate if we ever separated. He moans when our tongues touch, likely tasting the wine I selfishly sampled before pouring each of us a glass.

We're nearly ravenous as he flips me around and forces me up on the table, my legs needing to wrap around him to pull him close. My hands find his hair and bury deep within it, the soft strands slipping between my fingers and making me moan in pure agony, because I know I slaved over this dinner and I want him to be able to enjoy it while it's at least a little warm. Plus, making each other wait always makes for a better night.

The only downside? Waiting.

So my hands move to his chest, gently pushing away while a playful smile finds my lips. We separate just slightly, his mouth still hot and hovering over mine.

"We should eat dinner," I pull back again when he tries to move back in.

He opens his mouth to make a witty comment about feasting between my legs, but I stop him by covering his lips with my fingertips.

"The dinner I made," I coyly kiss him again.

He rolls his eyes and helps me off the table before pulling my chair out and letting me sit down. He finally sits across from me, looking absolutely beautiful in this light too. Lips are pinker than normal from hot, desperate kisses we shared less than seconds ago while his hair is just barely messed. His confidence is intoxicating as he looks up at me daringly through dark eyes.

For both of our sake, I try to change the subject before both of us selfishly disregard the dinner before us.

"Do you like it?" I ask with uncertainty.