I'm flabbergasted by Liam's proposition. He could just pin me by the wall and do whatever he wants . . . but painting. Was I an enemy of the state in my previous life? I just scoff, staring at him stupefied.

"You really want me to paint?" Like a fool I try ascertaining the situation.

"Can you not?" Liam prompts. I'm sure he's challenging me considering the sight of his mocking eyes, so blue yet dark with wit. "Tell me, Ms. Jones, can you not?" His ingenuous smile is pure provocation.

Damn him!

"Of course I can. How hard can it be?" I retort proudly, so sure of myself. My subconscious scowls as it's quite apparent that I know next to nothing about painting.

Well, there is a first time in everything.

Liam smiles brightly, and he looks utterly breathtaking in his blue plaid shirt and black washed out jeans. I think I love his cowboy look—it has its charm.

Hesitantly, Peter hands me the painting brush he's been holding. "Are you sure about this, Ms. Kira?" he asks me kindly . . . almost sorry.

"Don't worry, Peter, I've got this." My gaze refuses to Liam's ocean-like eyes that shine bright like the sky above us.

"You can leave us now. Just do not forget to pick the things I asked you for," Liam tells instructs Peter.

"Yes, sir," Peter replies with a nod. In a few minutes he and Julian disappear, leaving Liam and I alone.

"Are you ready, Ms. Jones?" Liam looks aesthetically pleased having me under his leash.

There's no escape now, is there?

"I was born ready, Mr. Darcy!" I snort with confidence, ready to face his challenge. "Let's do it." I lead the way towards the barn.

"With pleasure," Liam murmurs, and his steps follow suit.

The barn looks bigger on the inside. The only things inside are the haystacks in the middle, just a few, the cans of paint color, and the ladder. The smell of fresh paint wafts my nose as we walk in. Half of the barn is done already, leaving only a small part.

Thank God.

"It's done like this." Liam gives me a very close demonstration after a short while, standing right next to me.

"Like this?" I follow his move, grazing the drenched brush on the surface of a rough wood.

"Wait," he says while stepping behind me. He then holds my hand and leads me carefully.

Oh boy! How do I concentrate like this? His hard chest behind my back, body to body, the feel so alluring for my poor heart. I clear my throat, trying hard to find my focus amid the tempest, and it's surely a tough expedition.

"Now you can do it, right?" Liam asks, and his deep voice is nothing but torture.

"Hmm," I hum gently, and he moves slowly out of my back. A deep sigh finds its way out of my lungs, my composure reclaimed. "Why do you paint the inside?" I start painting on my own, Liam doing the same.

"Just to seal the wood, and avoid the fungi when it gets humid," he answers.

"I see," I breathe.

I'm starting to regret it. I mean, maybe I underestimated this a little; it's certainly not as easy as it seems when someone else does it. Beads of sweat form on my forehead and it's been less than fifteen minutes.

Liam seems very experienced. I'm amazed. And me, well, I can't feel my arms.

Also, I wonder why he is doing this anyway. Evidently it's so easy for someone like him to leave the job to his workers, yet he's been personally fixing and painting the barn with Peter since morning.

I halt a bit to wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, while staring at Liam with no discretion. He's fast and stoic as he makes his moves. I'm drooling over him, and he quickly notices.

He huffs a small laugh at my expense, and I'm sure he's making fun of my flawed-skills. Either way, I refuse to back off, so I take a deep breath, and keep the task going.

"Giving up already?" He beams, making a short pause to snatch something from the jeans of his pocket.

"Me? Never!" I retort.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that I used it," Liam says, referring to the towel handkerchief he's holding. He shoves it back into his jeans' pocket and I struggle with the heat. "You can stop and take a rest, or step out for some fresh air," he suggests carefully.

"No, it's okay. I just can't reach farther than this." I use my best excuse of height to justify my slagging.

Liam pulls me up the adjustable ladder. "You can use this." He sweetly, but sardonically, offers me.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Darcy!" I utter between my gritted teeth.

Can't he just understand the lady's language? No can mean a yes, and vice versa is true. He smiles wittingly, and I know he understands my scheme.

He just enjoys the sight of my pretense.

"Do you realize physical activities can cure insomnia?" he says, making my eyes roll.

"Really?" I grab that very same handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans and dry my face.

Hmm, the smell of his skin, cologne, mixed with . . . sweat? Well, I don't even care, for it's probably my favorite scent by now, and I've long lost my mind.

"Yes, they say it's only a condition for the rich," Liam says, ignoring my gesture after a fleeting surprise in his eyes.

Maybe he's right, but I wonder how much my bank account reads to place myself in the rich people category. But well, he's not far from the truth. I kind of sleep soundly whenever I overwork myself with physical activities rather than the mental one.

"Then I hope I'll sleep very well tonight." My tone is full of sarcasm as I say this. I squeeze the handkerchief into the side pocket of my jeans.

"I'm sure you will." Liam chuckles.

Mr. Intense chuckling? Such a rare scene. Speaking of sleeping, I begin to wonder when he left my room this morning.

"Did you sleep well last night?" I try to pry.

He takes his time responding, eyes on the painting he's doing. "Not as much as you did, but it was memorable," he says, and I blush profusely. The guy has a way with words. "Although it was a bit hard not being able to . . ." He clears his throat, glancing at me with a blush.

"Do what?" I encourage him to go on, my imagination running wild.

"I was about to use some vulgar language," he says with a sigh, and I almost burst into laughter. What a classic dude! "But I've realized it's improper to say such a thing to you."

My God! Did he time-travel from the Victorian era or something? I laugh heartily.

"I don't think I'm such a fine lady that I'd mind hearing you speaking vulgarly," I utter with a feigned innocence, my wildest side unraveling itself.

Liam laughs wholeheartedly. "Your ways of digging for information surely fascinates me, Ms. Jones." He glances down at me with smiley eyes.

"I still want to hear it, and I quite appreciate the remark." I try to weaver my gaze from his by clutching the brush properly.

"Very well," Liam says, sighing as though he's about to disclose his most embarrassing secret. I stay attentive, my focus back on him. "I had a very hard time last night."

Oh? "Why?" I urge.

He releases a soft smile. "Because all I could think of was how alluring your body looked," he says gently.

"Um—" I almost choke on my saliva or whatever. I think I've turned into a beetroot thinking of this little information.

"I wanted to fu—" Liam pauses as I suddenly trip and almost fall from the ladder.

What the heck!

Thanks to Liam's quick reflexes I'm caught right on time, but the thud in my heart multiplies, unsure if it's from the accident I almost had, or from the pair of stormy eyes gliding between my lips and eyes. I gulp, my arms tightened around his neck.

"Ms. Jones, are you always this clumsy?" Liam asks me in a low, hypnotizing voice after a few seconds.

I'm in his arms like a newlywed bride, except for the paint-drenched brush I'm holding..

"I think only when Mr. Darcy is around," I whisper. My mind seems inactive, baffled by the sphere of his sexy, inviting lips.

Good Lord! Do I want to kiss him?

"You're always questing for trouble, aren't you?" he breathes. His eyes are currently gleaming lasciviously, the same effect he has on me.

How lovely! The devil in me is enthralled.

"I guess trouble seems to love me more than I desire," I remark coolly, devouring his tight brace with our faces only an inch apart.

My breath turns ragged, disturbing my perilous hormones. I wet my lips, and he gently leans his head over toward mine.

Oh no.

He knows I want him, and I'm sure he feels the same way. He's just too gentle to make a haste move. I accidentally drop the painting brush on the floor, which ends up breaking the spell.

What the fuck! I glare begrudgingly at the floor and the magic is over.

"You should take a rest. I'll finish this quick." Liam drops me to my feet instantly, a smile lingering in his face.

Is he making fun of me? I glower inside as he gets back to painting. I'm not taking this! I opt to ignore his protest and follow my instinct. I lunge towards him like a buffalo and take him with great surprise.

"Or maybe we both could use a break." I spin him and my arms wrap around his neck. He tenses but does nothing to object. My lips crash hard onto his, my manners thrown down the drain.

Who are you? My subconscious gapes at me, and I don't know the answer.

Grunting, Liam accepts me wholeheartedly, gripping the small of my back and tugs me onto him. He pants heavily, stirred, his body flexing to hold me perfectly. Boy, it feels unearthly.

Our tongues intertwine to the point that I start losing myself. I feel a foreign flutter in my flesh and body, some smoldering fire in a color similar to sexual desires. If it's love or lust, I can't tell.

I simply want more.

Still kissing me, his lips relentless, Liam leads me towards the hay stacks, dry grasses crunching as we step on them. I want this man, and I don't think I care about the place or time at this moment.

Sharply, Liam pins me on the barn wall, unpainted part, the hardwood against my back. It should hurt but it doesn't. I should feel scared, worried, terrified even—but strangely I'm not.

Our mouths lock again, and he takes my hands above the head, his frame towering over my height. I tip my neck aside, letting him kiss me more fiercely, demandingly. Oh, I love it.

His lips slide from my neck to my cleavage, swiftly. God! I rasp, the pleasure quite incessant, driving me insane. I writhe impatient, but he holds me still with his weight.

"You drive me crazy, Ms. Jones," he breathes hoarsely, gracing me with a glance. He looks intoxicated and I feel victorious.

"I didn't know," I pant wildly as his fingers caress my back, nakedly touching my skin underneath the fabric of my shirt.

Liam chuckles. "I really wanted to resist," he says under his breath while reclaiming my lips. I didn't ask him to, did I? "I tried my best."

"And who told you to resist, huh?" I utter coquettishly as I watch his emotionally wrecked face, full of desires—desires over me.

"So full of yourself, aren't you, Kira?" He laughs cynically, and I subtly gape.

Did he just call me by my first name? Kira? Not Ms. Jones? Butterflies blanch their wings in my stomach. What an achievement!

"As much as I desire to be with you right now, I still won't touch you, Kira. Not in this place," he mutters while playing with my hair, staring deeply into my eyes.

I'm stuck between my needs and his statement. Of course he's not going to fuck me in the barn! Yeah, I saw it coming but why is my shameless self a bit disappointed?

Because you're officially a hoe? My subconscious mumbles with delight.

"I know. But I still want to kiss you," I blurt out, nuzzling my nose in his stubble while clinging onto his neck. I look up at him, and his smile melts my heart.

Jeez, am I falling in love or what? It feels like a million stars by just being with him.

"And I want to kiss you more," he replies, taking my face between his palms. He suddenly takes a deep breath, a feel of overwhelm engulfing his face.

"What's wrong?" I whisper.

"How I want to take you far from here, right now," he articulates in a serious manner, his gaze hot and desirous. I beam at him. "Would you—"

We suddenly hear a startling sound, cutting the moment. I think someone is approaching.

"Liam?" It's Sam's voice coming from right outside. "Liam, are you there?" she repeats again, louder this time.

Oh my God!

My blood pressure drops when I hear Sam's voice getting closer and closer. A cold sweat flows down my temple. Liam is still holding me without making any move.

I gaze up at him, and his nonchalance leaves me speechless. He looks unperturbed, unlike me, and it's totally impossible to know when exactly he freaks out.

"It's Sam," I whisper in a very low voice. "What do we do?" I'm frantically trembling in his arms.

"We should just tell her. I told you so already, didn't I?" He grins down at me.

What the heck!

"Are you serious?" I query, half-annoyed.

He finally sighs out disappointedly. "I did not expect doing this at my age," he says, and I quirk a questioning eyebrow. "You're making me do the shittiest things, Kira."

"What?" I swear I could laugh aloud if it weren't for the moment. "You know . . . just go!" I push him forward, and he laughs soundlessly.

"I'll go talk to her. You'll probably need to take care of that first." He points at my chest in a playful manner, my two buttons undone.

"Hooligan," I murmur, smiling shyly.

What am I doing?