Chapter 24 The Lover Boy Is Awake
Claire
Soon enough, the ambulance came to carry Ian away, and the cleaning crew came as well. I couldn’t stay another second in the house, so I got into my car and followed the ambulance.
When we arrived, he was rushed inside the emergency room. I guessed they’d have to pump all the alcohol from his system.
I waited in the emergency ward and quickly pulled out my phone to dial a number I never thought I’d call. It didn’t take long before his soft, masculine voice answered.
“It seems you miss me, Mrs. Claire. You never call first,” he said.
I bit my lower lip. “Well, I’m calling because I’m at the hospital,” I replied.
There was a pause on his end before he spoke again. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen your menopause yet,” he said. I opened my mouth but shut it again.
“Hey,” I whispered. “No, I haven’t. But that’s not why I’m here.” I placed my hand on my forehead.
“Well, thank goodness, Mrs. Claire. I thought I was going to be a Dad,” he said, and I didn’t realize when I chuckled.
“You don’t have to worry. I had my womb tied,” I said, shaking my head.
“But you never know, Mrs. Claire. It’s not always 100% effective,” he replied, and I sighed.
“So tell me, why are you at the hospital?” he asked.
I shouldn’t have been feeling so flustered just hearing his voice, especially not in this situation.
“It’s Ian. I rushed him to the hospital,” I said.
Liam fell silent. “May I ask why?” he asked, his voice sounding a little off.
“I guess he actually liked your precious Pattie. He drank himself to the point of passing out,” I said.
He laughed low into the phone, and it made me smile too.
“Oh no, he didn’t,” he said.
“He did. So I’m calling to find out what Pattie did to my husband,” I said, and he stopped laughing.
“Well, I guess, Mrs. Claire, she made him feel young again,” he said unapologetically. I should have been angry, but I wasn’t.
“Whatever,” I muttered under my breath. “I just need him in one piece. My kids are coming home for the holidays.”
Liam hummed. “So I’m guessing you want him to have Pattie for that period so he’ll be in one piece?” he asked.
I couldn’t believe that was actually what I wanted. “It’s not possible, is it?” I asked quietly.
“No, Mrs. Claire, it’s not. And besides, Pattie wouldn’t like that. I can’t force her to do what she doesn’t want,” he said.
I sighed. I was so tired of all this; it was draining me. Ian was making my life impossible, fooling himself over a young girl. Pathetic.
“Okay, I guess I have to go now,” I said, and he didn’t say anything more as I cut the call.
Soon his stupid self was wheeled from the emergency room, and the doctor approached me.
“He’s sleeping now. He’ll wake soon enough,” he said.
I nodded, pretending to care. “Okay,” I said and followed him to the ward he had been taken to.
There he was, the miserable man. I couldn’t believe I had fallen in love with him. Looking at him now, I wondered what had drawn me to Ian in the first place.
It wasn’t like he was the most handsome or wealthy, and I’d had plenty of good suitors.
Maybe it was because he hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when he was a good, hardworking man, when he’d buy me flowers and whisper sweet words.
Now he was the complete opposite, so shameless he’d almost ruin himself for another woman.
Soon he opened his eyes and looked around, dragging himself into a sitting position.
“Looks like the lover boy is awake,” I said, putting the book I was reading aside.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Ian. But tomorrow your kids will be coming for the holidays.”
His eyes widened. He didn’t even know much about the children anymore. “I want you to be home, and please,” I said, looking him over, “make yourself presentable.”
He looked away and muttered under his breath with a hiss, “I get it. Just leave.”
I knew he was embarrassed, probably because I saw him like this. So I added salt to the wound.
“So it seems the problem was with you after all,” I said, smiling. “You couldn’t even keep the little girl.”
His face twisted. “I said get out,” he barked.
I laughed slowly. Pathetic.
He didn’t have to ask me twice; I left. The moment I stepped outside, I sighed. The place felt suffocating, filled with his smell—too much, too heavy.
I walked out of the hospital and toward my car, rummaging through my purse for my keys. When I lifted my head and looked up, what I saw made me stop cold.
Leaning against my car was none other than Liam.
I quickly glanced around, but no one seemed to care. Everyone was busy minding their own business.
I hurried over to him, my eyes widening. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, surprise clear in my voice.
He looked down at me, his hair slicked back. He was dressed in a black tux, looking every bit like a gentleman—though both of us knew he was far from one.
“What, Mrs. Claire? The moment I heard your voice, I realized I missed you,” he said with a sheepish smile.
I placed a hand on my head. “Liam, please don’t do this. Not in public,” I pleaded, glancing around again.
“It’s not like anyone cares, Claire,” he said, and I immediately looked back at him.
He pushed himself off my car and stepped closer, stopping right in front of me.
“And besides, I don’t have my car with me.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“My driver drove off,” he replied.
“And why is that?” I blurted out, just as his eyes traveled from my face down to my breasts.
“I don’t know,” he said softly, and I swallowed.
“But I never told you which hospital I was at. How did you know?” I asked. That was what I should’ve been worried about—not the way my body reacted to his presence.
He met my gaze and smiled, his dimples deepening. “Oh, I knew from your location,” he said, lifting his phone as if to show me.
Wait—what?
I snapped my gaze from the phone back to his smiling face.
“I like to know where my personal whore goes,” he said, and the smile disappeared instantly.
“Now,” he continued, mischief flashing in his eyes, “why don’t we get into your car? I’ll drive.”
Arguing would be pointless—I knew that much—so I handed him the keys without a word. He smiled, that slow, predatory curve of his lips, and followed me to the passenger side. He opened the door with a gentlemanly flourish, but as I started to slide in, his hand shot out and grabbed a firm handful of my ass. I jerked upright, snapping my head toward him.
“What?” he asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
“Get in the car, Mrs. Claire.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, heat flooding my cheeks, then climbed into the seat, waiting for him.
Once inside, I let out a shaky sigh. My pulse was racing, my body already thrumming with need. Between my legs, I was so wet I was half-afraid I'll start to leak.
He rounded the car, slipped into the driver’s side with effortless grace, and started the engine. Without so much as a glance my way, he spoke, voice calm and commanding.
“Mrs. Claire, take off your skirt and panties.”
I closed my eyes for a second, breath catching, then obeyed. I unzipped the skirt first, lifting my hips to shimmy it down my legs and off. Then the panties—new ones, delicate lace—followed, leaving me completely bare from the waist down. The cool air of the car kissed my heated skin, making me shiver.
“I see,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on the road. “Did you buy those panties recently?”
My head whipped toward him. How did he notice every little thing about me? “Yeah,” I breathed.
“Good.”
That was all he said. No further instructions. He just left me sitting there, exposed, thighs pressed together, the anticipation building like a slow-burning fire. The longer he made me wait, the more desperate I became for his touch.
“Spread your legs wider, Mrs. Claire.” he instructed.
I nodded even though he wasn’t looking, and parted my thighs obediently, opening myself to the empty air between us.
We drove in silence for a few moments. Then, without warning, his right hand left the wheel and landed on my bare thigh. I sucked in a sharp breath as his warm palm began its slow ascent, fingers trailing fire up my sensitive skin. Instinctively, I opened wider, offering myself. He kept his eyes forward, focused on the road, one hand steady on the steering wheel, the other inching higher.
When his fingers finally brushed my slick folds, I jerked in the seat, a soft gasp escaping my lips. He didn’t hesitate—just started rubbing, slow, deliberate strokes up and down my wetness.
I glanced down at his lap and saw the thick bulge straining against his pants. He was rock hard.
His fingers found my clit and pinched lightly. I bit down on my lip, clamping a hand over my mouth to muffle the moan.
He switched to tight circles, pressing just right, and my head fell back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut. Pleasure coiled tight and hot in my belly.
“There, Mrs. Claire,” he said, voice low and satisfied. “You’re soaked.”
Abruptly, he stopped. I gasped, chest heaving, thighs trembling. He brought his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, eyes still on the road.
“I’ve missed your taste,” he said simply.
I swallowed hard, staring at his profile, my body screaming for more.
Something told me we were about to do very nasty things—and God help me, I was ready for every single one.