Ice To Meet You

She alcohol-ed me

Liam's POV
What I feel for her is a foreign unchartered territory for me to venture —she's hot, I would bang her left right and center but there is something conspicuously distinctive about her. There are a lot of hot women in the world—I think it's her sassy mouth and her understated innocence that makes her the one I can't stop thinking about. The article on the other hand—what is she playing at?

She is nothing like the women I've ever been with or spent my youth chasing. She is to me what bitcoin is to Wall Street — risky, volatile and guaranteed to be one hell of a ride. I can't crack her code just yet. I want to know what she wants from me so that I know her price. Everybody in life has a price.
I want to possess her bratty mouth and explore her insanely comic yet refreshing brain. After that, of course, I'll move on to other entertainments — I always do. I don't know how people spend their entire life with the same person. I can't even spend my entire life in the same house — I upgrade houses every year. I'll upgrade her too.

The idea of familiarity puts me to sleep and I hate sleep. It's a waste of precious time that I can spend being productively. Is it my money she is after or the status that comes with being mine? With women, you'll never really know until you're signing a check.

I've seen my dad get fucked over by countess women — just like I've seen my mother fuck countless men because she can. Love, loyalty, till death do us apart are just fancy words—it's not love that keeps people together—it's an ironclad prenup and two attorneys hell-bent on making sure their clients don't lose a cent. I adore my parents—they are great parents to me—they just aren't great to each other.

They've raised me to be a gentleman and to be gracious and sincere in all my dealings. Don't get me wrong, I am a good guy—atleast 99% of the time and if you don't fuck me over—I won't hurt you. I destroy everything in sight in defense—never in offense.

But I am always watching my back — with everyone — all the time.

Nobody can be trusted all the time because we all have something we're hiding and someone we're hiding it from. I've made a career out of finding that out. So, what is Mia hiding? That's a question I've been contemplating for weeks now. I want to untangle the mystery that is Mia Harriet Dawson. The black folder I have on her in my study is squeaky clean. She's squeaky clean but everybody has skeletons lurking in their closets...
I push the terrace door open and holy motherfucking fuck! She's in a hot tub, in her underwear with a bunch of try hards lurking around her. They're all looking at me and I can hear Hannah say something in the background but I can't tear my gaze away from her. Her hair is tied up in a bun and I can see a few lose strands framing her face. She looks like a doll — a really drunk barely able to keep her eyes open doll—but a doll nevertheless. How can she look so enticing yet so unintentional?
She finally notices me and I can see the spark of recognition kiss her maple brown eyes. She reminds me of pancakes and breakfast in warm sunshine and summer siestas. It's like she's never in a hurry and with all the hustle bustle around me—her tranquility is unarming. How is she so calm and collected at all times? She immediately stands up from the hot tub and god fucking damn.

How am I going to keep my hands off of this gloriously sleek mermaid?
She's in her knickers and a skimpy little bra that clearly lines her nipples. What is with this woman and catching me by surprise!
"Liam!!" She screams as she finally registers my presence. She's trying to get out of the tub and she places her foot on the stairs and her legs — damn. I hate the way this blonde-haired bastard is looking at her — I hate the way everyone at the pool is looking at her. I don't want anyone to look at her and I know that sounds insane but I know how people are. I know what they're thinking and I want to kill all of them.
I sprint towards Mia and bend down to pick her up so she doesn't have to climb the remaining two stairs. Why is she wearing knickers that do not cover her arse at all? She wraps her cold and wet body around mine and all I can picture is that behind... so close to my hands. Her arms are snaked around my neck and her legs are wrapped around my back. How have I never notices that arse of hers and what do I do now that I have? All I can think of is how everyone is looking at what is mine.