CHAPTER 7

LIAM'S POV

I'm sitting in my office with my face buried in the computer screen, when my phone buzzes. My initial instinct is to ignore it, but it might be Carla. She has a date tonight, she told me might need my help choosing an outfit this morning.
My phone dings again. I peek at the screen. There are two selfies from Carla in two different outfits. My stomach lurches, adrenaline pumps. If she were here, I'd be screaming to her how fucking gorgeous she looks.
Picking up the phone, I study the images a little closer. In one picture, she's in a short black dress with over-the-knee fuck-me boots. The second picture, she's still in the same fuck-me boots and a pink dress with peekaboo holes on her shoulders. For the briefest second, my mind ventures there . . . again. Carla bending over in front of me wearing nothing but the fuck-me boots, my hands on her ass as I thrust my hips and sink into the cleft between her legs.
My cock springs forth, rock hard.
Ignoring the aching bulge in my pants, I headbutt the hot desire thrumming through my veins and read her text.

This or that?

One thing is certain. No matter which dresses she picks for her date, she looks gorgeous, hot. My fingers hover over the keyboard of my phone for a moment. My mind debating if I should talk her out of wearing the fuck me boots. Slowly, I type my answer.
Black dress. 
She looks radiant in both dresses, but at least the black dress has a turtle neck and thick long sleeves.

My phone dings again.

Think it's sexy enough?
She looks sexy in everything. I text her back.
Definitely sexy enough.
Okay see you later, or not. She texts and my insides curdle at the thought of her going home with him tonight.

I leave the office and go back home and wait for Carla, stressing over everything. I call Marty to go out but he's busy with his girlfriend and Will is out of town.
I'm uneasy, I can't think of anything but Carla and her date. What the hell are they doing.
Hours later it's almost midnight and they are not still back. I pick up my phone to call her but call her and say what?
Fuck. I'm in too deep.
I decide to text her.
How's the date going?
30 minutes later, she still hasn't replied.
She had told me the location of the bar they were going so I decide maybe I should go check it out.

I was waiting for the driver to bring the car out front when she came out of a car parked in front of the building. She had definitely been in there for a while, making out from the looks of it.
Her hair was messy, her lips were red and puffy from kissing and I felt like a stab wound in my chest. God did she sleep with him? Or maybe just make out. I shouldn't feel like this but I wanted to pull him out the car and punch him right in his face.

I don't say anything as we use the elevator up to the penthouse. She's quiet too. And she's drunk, did he get her drunk. "Did he get you drunk," I ask when we finally get up and enter her bedroom.
"No he didn't, I'm a grown woman Liam. I'm fully capable of getting drunk myself" she says with her perfectly sexy British accent while rolling her eyes. 
"So drunk Carla is mean," I say under breath. I go into her closet to get her something to change into. "Where are your pajamas." I ask. 
"No just get me a T-shirt in the first drawer." She says.
I open the drawer and get her a Manchester university T-shirt. "Take this and change." I say giving it to her.
"Liam you're my friend not my father or brother. You can't tell me what to do. As a matter of fact, no man can tell me what to do." She says slurring her words.
"Okay, then I'll leave you to it," I say as she starts removing her skirt.
"Good night," she slurs in a cute way as I close the door leaving. God, everything about her is fucking perfect.

"Good night" I whisper.