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I stride over to his side of the closet, tear one of his white dress shirts from its hanger, and wipe my stomach with it, tossing it into a corner with grim satisfaction when I’m through. Then I go the row of my shoes, pick up a pair, and stride out of the closet and into the bedroom. Liam is still lying on the bed where I left him, naked and serene. I chuck a shoe across the room at him. It flies through the air, landing with an impotent thud on the carpet three feet away from the foot of the bed. Liam is unmoving, except for a lifted eyebrow. “Not much of a throw, lass. You’ll never make it in the big leagues.” Blood scorches my cheeks. Fire billows from my nostrils. I stalk a few feet closer to the bed, then take aim again and throw. This time, my aim is more accurate. Liam has to
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