Find Me by A. L. Wood Read Free Book Online

flame coming out of its mouth, aiming to the dead center of his chest to his heart. It takes up half of his chest and the tail ends below his ribs. It’s the focal piece for all of his tattoos on his upper body. It’s the only ink that is colored on his body. The rest is black. Most are tribal, some are initials, dates and such.
    He won’t speak about one of them. Now, whenever I see him shirtless, I look away. That way it’s not a tease and doesn’t cause me to open my mouth.
    As I’m finishing up the sauce and about to boil the chicken before I pop it in the oven , Liam comes out, wearing nothing but a towel.
    I have been abstaining from sex for about two months, all because Nat nicely pointed out how it’s my coping mechanism. My mode of self-preservation.
    Here I was being a major fucking hypocrite , only seeing that Natalie was hurting herself and hiding behind the walls of our two bedroom apartment. Not getting close to anyone, other than me. I pushed her into going on tour with five men she had never met, nor ever had any interest in meeting.
    Once I met Liam , I wrote him off as a no-go. Even if I found him attractive, I saw how much he cared for my best friend. He didn’t deserve my weekly commitment to nothing and I didn’t deserve to be the second choice. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.
    But living with him, without him pining for Natalie daily , has been a struggle. A struggle that I have been barely fighting.
    I can’t defend myself. He’s fucking hot and any female , or male for that matter, can see it within viewing distance. He’s pure testosterone. His arms are safety rails and his body screams hard, rough, pick you up and throw you around sex.
    The kind of sex I want.
    The kind of sex I need.
    I close my mouth , when I realize that it’s still agape and drool is on the verge of running out. I snap it shut and check on the chicken that is now in a pot that has water boiling over onto the stove. I toss the now cooked chicken into a baking pan and throw it in the stove.
    I then continue to set the table . It’s then that I notice Liam is still standing in place, wearing nothing but the accessory of a towel. One that barely conceals his blessed package, much to my disappointment. He looks at me one last time and moves back on to his room. What was he doing out here naked anyway?
    Shortly thereafter , the guys join us for dinner. They’re all dressed to the nines in designer clothes, designers that I am all too familiar with. These lucky bastards get free clothes, just to wear them. Apparently it’s a bonus, for a company to see someone famous wearing their apparel out and about.
    They so need to hook a girl up. I would wear the shit out of their clothes for free , if they’ll supply my demand. We all toss the dirty dishes in the sink, as Liam announces he’s going to call a cab.
    Luckily , I have friends that realize safety is of the upmost importance when going out. A designated driver, or a cab number should always be on hand, when going out to reach an intoxication level.
    Wh ile everyone else spent time spiffing themselves up and or sleeping, I made dinner, so I excuse myself to get dressed. I had picked out my outfit earlier, but planned on changing after we ate. No way would I want to go out in a dress that has my sauce running down it. A likely event if I had worn it.
    I shut the door to my room and throw my clothes off in a rush to put on my strapless bra and black booty shorts from the one and only Fredericks of Hollywood , my favorite place to buy intimate attire. I chose a strapless navy blue dress that reached the top of my knees. It hugged all of my curves in the right places, but also left a bit to the imagination.
    I slip on my black flats, which are much easier to dance in than a pair of six inch heels. I look in the mirror and apply a light coat of mascara and eyeliner, with a touch of lip gloss and I’m good to go.
    The mistake many women make when they go out is