The Coldest Summer✓

Thirteen

The coffee has extra cream shot—exactly how I love my stuff. My heart jumps aflutter at the thought of Liam knowing my taste well. Could it be that he's taken deliberate to learn of it through our short dining experiences?

Dream on, Kira. It costs absolutely nothing to have a lovely dream. I laugh at myself inwardly.

Liam's laptop is on the countertop with the Skype window open on the screen. He was probably video chatting with someone before I arrived. I resume my attention back to him as he finally hands me the coffee mug.

"Thank you." I feel giddy as I slowly start sipping it. Hmm, it's exquisite. Mr. Intense does know how to please a lady.

"Shouldn't you be resting by now?" Liam breaks the silence, taking the same stance as mine so we are facing one another. "Or is it your insomnia again?" His voice comes out out carefully.

A soft, rueful sigh escapes my lips. Sleeping matter is quite a subject that I never wish to pursue.

"I can ask you the same thing if I may," I reply with a small smile, and he does exactly the same while taking a little sip of his coffee. "I'm just saying. Perhaps my answer will depend on your reasons, after all," I provoke him, fully aware of the danger.

Liam shifts his stance, and gets closer in the process. Holy cow! It's hard being skin-to-skin with him. I hold my heart tightly.

"Are you blackmailing me now, Ms. Jones?" Liam sounds amused, his voice gentle and relaxed.

I like this side of him.

"Oh no! How would I dare do such a thing to you? I simply want to have an exchange of facts—quid pro quo." I chuckle innocently.

Liam giggles boyishly.

"Oh, do you?" Enthralled, his one eyebrow creases. "You're quite a bad negotiator. Do you actually think I'd fall for your trick, Ms. Jones?'' His smile assures me of his playfulness, and my cheeks heat up. He takes the cup to his mouth once again, eyes stuck on me, mesmerizing me.

God, why can't I be that mug? The devil in me awakes from her beauty slumber, eyes wide open, gawking at the fine muscles of Liam's arm. I wonder if he lifts weights.

Well, he surely does, dummy! Or else how would he build that body you so want to touch? By reading books in the library? My subconscious recoils.

"Um, yes? I mean, can't you at least pretend to fall for it?" I quizzically arch my brows, ignoring the profanity in my mind.

A short silence prevails as Liam watches me mindfully, and only opens his mouth after placing the mug on the cabinet. "Well, I'm going to be generous with you," he says with gallant, and I stupidly move closer so that we stand levelly.

He chuckles gently, and I bite my bottom lip in a similar fashion.

"Okay then . . . tell me why are you always awake at night?" I ask, my desire to know him bigger than before. "The truth is, I've been so curious about this; there is not a single day that I found you asleep in times I couldn't sleep myself. It makes me wonder why."

Sometimes I look at him, and it's like there's a broken part inside of him that really calls for my curiosity. I should probably stop playing the psychic.

Staring at me with a faint smile—almost sad—Liam takes a deep sigh. "I'm still adjusting to the time zone, I guess," he says calmly. I don't think I'm buying it, and he discerns it right away. Hence he explains, "I've been travelling a lot, so now that I've decided to rest a bit I find it difficult to adjust with time and schedules. Sometimes I need to wake up at night to make international calls and things like that."