Escaping Reality

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Pleasure,” he repeats, his eyes dancing with way too much male

  satisfaction for me to hope he’s done tormenting me. “I thought that’s

  what I was providing. Let’s see. How about this?” He lowers his head and

  licks my clit, and I gasp, then whimper as he swirls his tongue around me

  several times, then teasingly asks, “Is that pleasure?”

  I squeeze my thighs around his shoulders. “Stop tormenting me.”

  He blows on my clit. “It’s called foreplay.”

  My lashes flutter but I manage to glare at him. “No, it’s—”

  His mouth closes down on me, and waves of pleasure ripple through

  me. I tug at my hands, desperate to hold his head, to make sure he doesn’t

  stop this time. His fingers slide inside me, stretching me, caressing me. And

  his tongue, his amazing tongue, is both sandpaper and silk, stroking me to

  the edge, then masterfully soothing the ache. Over and over he licks me to

  the shadow of bliss, and pulls it back.

  “Liam,” I gasp, unable to take it anymore. I am trembling with how

  close I am and how far at the same time. Needing him to give me relief, but

  he does not. His mouth leaves my clit and he slides up my body, shifting our

  hips and settling his cock thickly between my thighs, his searing stare

  meeting mine. “We come together,” he says, and then presses inside me,

  stretching me, filling me, and I can barely breathe for the pleasure. I’d

  thought I’d wanted the sweet bliss his tongue had promised but in this

  moment, I know I did not. This is what I want. Together. He is where I need

  him but he does not move. He holds us there, his hands firmly on my hips,

  his shaft deep in my sex, and challenges me with, “What do you want,

  Amy?”

  “Everything,” I pant. “You. I want you.”

  His eyes darken, and he leans in, bringing our mouths a breath apart.

  “Everything?”

  It is a question and a demand, and in this moment, perhaps in every

  moment since I met him, there is only one answer. “And more.”

  He does not move. We do not move. There is a spike of energy

  between us, a shift that I have never experienced, and do not understand,

  but it is like a wicked burn in my body, a craving unsatisfied. “More,” he

  echoes a moment before he kisses me, and I taste the same burn in him,

  the same need. He molds me closer, arching into me, and begins to pump

  his hips. Time falls away. There is just the wild passion consuming us, and

  he is touching me, moving inside me, and I am going crazy with my hands

  tied. I want to touch him. I need to touch him.

  He is on edge too, his grip tightening around my hips, his face buried

  in my neck, and with a guttural moan, he pushes harder, deeper, and my

  sex is one deep pulse around his shaft that begins a wave of pleasure and

  spreads through my entire body. I am there. I am falling, tumbling, and

  finally, I crash into that sweet spot. He pumps into me again, and I feel the

  shudder run through his body, or maybe it is me who is shuddering. I do not

  know how long it is before we melt into one another.

  He reaches up and unties my hands and my arms fall around his neck.

  Liam shifts us and strokes the hair from my eyes. “We aren’t anywhere near

  finished. You know that, right?”

  “Promise?”

  “Oh yeah. I promise. And I never make a promise I don’t keep.”

  He shifts his weight and somehow stands up with me still wrapped

  around him, him still inside me. I bury my face in his neck, inhale the scent

  of him, the prickling of memories trying to surface fading into his words

  earlier tonight. Tell me who’s scaring you and I promise you, Amy, I will

  make them go away. Or they will make him go away. I can’t let that

  happen.

  ***

  I wake to the morning light and the soft rumble of Liam’s voice from

  someplace not far away, and I smile with the realization that I am naked

  and I did not have a nightmare last night.

  Thanks to Liam, I am certain who spent the night with his big body

  wrapped around mine. His big, sexy body, I amend. I am sated and relaxed.

  Safe. I feel safe with Liam.

  Rolling over in the big, comfortable bed, I watch the curtain flutter

  over the sliding glass window only a few feet away, confirming Liam’s

  location. “I’m not meeting with him today, Derek,” I hear him say, sounding

  more than a little displeased. “Forget it. I have plans I’m not giving up for

  that jackass. Monday.” A pause. “Yeah, well, he’s lucky I’m motivated to

  stay around Denver for a few months. And no. That’s none of your

  business.”

  Motivated to stay around Denver for a few months. I revel in these

  words, savoring them like I would fine wine in a bottle soon to be empty.

  But he will eventually return to New York, where you can never go again, I

  remind myself. Eventually he will be gone.

  “Good morning.”

  My gaze lifts from the bed where it has fallen, to where he has

  parted the curtain and is standing in the opening of the door, dressed in

  nothing but a pair of blue pajama bottoms. I sit up, hugging the sheet to

  myself, but I am not shy in my inspection of his body, gobbling up every

  detail of this hot man I’ve had the pleasure of waking up to, from his lean,

  hard body to his lightly shadowed jaw line that only makes his goatee

  sexier. “You, Liam Stone, are too good looking for the safety of womankind,

  and I probably look bad enough to scare small children and a few timid

  animals, too.”

  He laughs, and it is deep and wonderful and far better than sunshine

  or cinnamon rolls in the morning. He starts toward me and I hold up my

  hand. “No. Wait. Stay right there.”

  Stopping in his steps, his brow furrows, and I can’t believe I’m about

  to do this, but that savor-him-until-he’s-gone thing is ripe in my mind.

  Throwing aside the sheet, I expose my naked body, and I don’t let the blast

  of heat from Liam’s inspection slow me down. I rush forward and stand in

  front of him and I am as I was last night. Exposed in the most erotic of ways.

  Liam arches a brow, a question in his gorgeous blue eyes I could

  drown in, and probably will before he goes back to New York. I answer his

  inquiry by dropping to my knees and pressing my mouth to his tattoo, my

  hands settling on his lean hips. He sucks in a breath, his body tensing ever

  so slightly, and I smile against a taut muscle. I have surprised him and this

  pleases me.

  My gaze lifts to Liam’s and the heat I see in his stare only serves to

  empower me. I lick his stomach and drag my finger down the line of

  numbers until it dips beneath his waistband, a quick tease before it is gone.

  “Now,” I say, “I am going to have to kiss my way down—”

  A knock sounds on the door and Liam groans. I jump to my feet. “You

  have company?”

  He wraps me in his arms. “Room service. I thought waking you up to

  breakfast in bed

  was a good thing until you started licking my tattoo.”

  “You were going to wake me up to breakfast in bed?”

  “Then make you the second course.” Another knock s
ounds and he

  gives me a quick kiss.

  “Just to be clear. Sexy is me waking up to you in my bed and looking

  just like you do now, tattoo licking optional, though not discouraged. Grab

  one of my shirts. I don’t want any sneak peeks from room service. I plan to

  keep you for myself.” He sets me aside and heads toward the other room.

  I stare after him. He plans to keep me for himself. I fight the urge to

  call him back and make him seal those words with a promise.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fifteen minutes later, I sit at a table on the balcony, drinking coffee

  and sampling an enormous amount of food Liam ordered to be sure I had

  something I liked to eat. What I like is him bare-chested and relaxed in his

  pajama bottoms, with sexy, mussed-up morning hair. And me, in his shirt,

  with his scent teasing my nostrils. I have never worn a man’s shirt and that

  somehow makes wearing his shirt all the more intimate.

  I pluck a grape from a basket with a variety of fruits and laugh as he

  argues his claim that the Fast & Furious movies are of cultural importance.

  “And you support this claim how?”

  “The movies were released over the course of a decade. One could

  say they are a historical biography of the evolution of muscle cars.”

  “One such as you.”

  He smiles, and I swear his eyes are as perfect as the bright blue sky

  shadowing him. “One such as me.”

  I cover my now-empty plate that once held a fluffy cheese omelet. “Is

  there a collection of muscle cars to go along with this interest?”

  “No muscle cars in my garage. Too impractical. I’ll live vicariously

  through the movies.”

  “And here I thought you were a Bentley kind of guy.”

  “I’m not a flashy guy.”

  “But you love Fast & Furious.”

  “All men love Fast & Furious.”

  “But you are not all men, Liam.”

  His shoves his empty plate aside and leans close, his elbow on the

  table. “And why is that, Amy?”

  “Oh, come on. You know you aren’t like other guys. You’re a prodigy,

  protégé, and billionaire.”

  “If I let those things become who I am, then they are all that I am.

  Judge me by who I am outside those things. Who would I be if those things

  were suddenly stripped away? A man who loves hamburgers, Fast &

  Furious, Thirty Seconds to Mars, and the History Channel, which we’ve

  determined we have in common.”

  I laugh at the way he sums himself up, charmed by his lack of

  arrogance and by the unexpected randomness of his interest. “And some

  violinist—”

  “David Garrett.”

  “David Garrett,” I repeat, “who you swear will seduce me into loving

  his music. All these pieces of you are not what I expected.”

  “Is that good?” His voice is softer now, rougher.

  “Yes. Yes, it’s good.”

  “Unexpected and good. Much like us.”

  I suck in a breath, surprised, pleased, warmed by this man in a way

  the morning sunshine cannot begin to touch. “Yes,” I say, sealing my

  decision to weed through all the history I have to hide, to have just a few

  weeks with this man. “Unexpected.” So very unexpected.

  “And good,” he prods.

  I smile. “And good.”

  His cell phone rings. He grimaces and hits decline, glancing at me and

  answering my unasked question. “Derek, the guy I was talking to when you

  woke up. He’s an investor in the building project and the only reason I

  entertained the idea of being involved. He gets me and what I do.”

  “Do you need to go meet with him? Because I’m fine if you do.”

  “No. They’ll wait until tomorrow.” He changes the subject. “Do you

  have a passport?”

  My unease is instant; a fizzle of fear over his motives sparks into life. I

  laugh nervously, feeling as if I have been on a casual fun drive and just got

  sideswiped. “My travels have been as ambitious as sampling the various

  cupcake shops around Manhattan.”

  He smiles, and it is as devastatingly sexy as his tattoo. Well, almost.

  “Sweet tooth?”

  “Mammoth-sized, though I don’t indulge often or I’ll be

  mammoth-sized.” I sound halfway okay, I think, but all I can think is why did

  he ask about the passport?

  He lifts the cover of a plate to display some sort of gooey chocolate

  waffle concoction. “I do, too.” He hands me a fork. “I’ll dare if you will.”

  I take a fork and my hand trembles. Liam gently shackles my wrist

  and I inhale and look at him. “What’s wrong, Amy?”

  I want to scream at my complete inability to mask my emotions with

  this man. I’ve always handled myself smoothly. Okay, well, after that first

  year of melting down. “I feel like I’m keeping you from work.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

  You are such a liar.

  His eyes narrow and I swear he knows what I am, if not who I am. I

  think he will call me on my reply, but he does not. His hand slides away and

  he motions to the chocolate goo on the plate. “Shall we?”

  “Yes,” I breathe out, and I want to know why he asked about a

  passport—but at this point, it would be too obvious a question and invite

  more from him. I spoon up the sugary treat and take a bite.

  Liam does the same, watching me as he tastes the dessert-like

  breakfast item. “Good?”

  “Yes. Delicious.”

  “Now we have two things on our to-do list,” he says, referencing my

  confession about list-making I’d shared while avoiding other personal

  things, like my dead family, both the fake one and the real one.

  “Two things?”

  “The doctor,” he reminds me, and when I should be worried about

  the passport reference that seems so bizarre, I instead remember last

  night. Until then, I’ll be fantasizing about the moment the only thing

  wrapped around me is you.

  Somehow I am now both warm and cold at the same time. “ And the

  second to-do item?”

  “David Garrett is touring in Europe the rest of the year. That’s why I

  asked about the passport. I’d like to take to you to a concert.” His lips quirk

  in that sexy way they do. “He’ll seduce you with his music and I’ll seduce

  you in another country.”

  Tension uncurls inside me, replaced by regret. Not only did he not

  have bad intentions, he had romantic ones I don’t know if I can accept

  without taking the risk that my identity would be scrutinized. “As much as I

  would like to go, my job is only certain for a few months. I need to look for

  something more long-term.”

  His expression doesn’t change, but I sense a sharp shift in his mood, a

  heaviness in the air around us that wasn’t there seconds before. “The boss

  who provided you with an apartment.”

  I bristle, something in his tone setting me on edge. “What does that

  mean, Liam?”

  “It’s not safe to go to work for a guy you don’t know and who

  provides you with an apartment. Does he have access to it?”

  My pulse races at the concern that mimics my own. “It’s my

  apartment. He just arranged it with a realtor. I have to pay for it.”
<
br />   He studies me and the seconds feel eternal before he says, “There is

  something about the situation that feels wrong. I’m going to have him

  checked out.”

  I assume he is talking about my boss not the realtor, but either way,

  this is exactly what I have feared. The more involved I am with Liam, the

  more he will dig into my life. “He’s just my boss. And only for a few months.

  That’s the point. I need to focus on finding another job that is more

  long-term. This is a bridge job.”

  “That friend of mine, Derek. He runs a large real estate investment

  firm. I’ll introduce you and see if he might have anything you might be

  interested in.”

  I am not about to apply for work with his friend, who then would

  have a human resources file on me, but I can’t say that. “Thank you.”

  “And I’m going to pay your rent for a year tomorrow so you don’t

  have to stress about it anymore.”

  I am stunned and angry all in one blow. And hurt. I feel again like a

  charity case bordering on becoming a tramp. “No. You are not.” I shove to

  my feet. “I’m going to get dressed and leave.”

  I barely manage to slide out of my seat before he’s in front of me and

  his hand is on my arm, possessiveness in the action that I crave and reject.

  Feeling vulnerable, I lash out. “I guess I pay you for my rent by fucking you

  all night until we both can’t walk?” I can’t even believe I can talk like this. I

  can’t believe I let myself be in this situation.

  Liam looks stunned. “Where did that come from, Amy?”

  “I’m not some ‘kept woman’, Liam. You’ve got the wrong girl.”

  “Kept woman? That’s crazy.” He softens his voice. “You have to know

  that’s not how I am or how we are.”

  “How can I not feel like that? I like how I feel when I’m with you,

  Liam. I do. Or I did.

  Except right now. I don’t like how I feel right now. I don’t want your

  money, Liam.”

  “It’s not about money…”

  It’s not about the money. I hear nothing else. Spots form in front of

  my eyes, and a distant, unwelcome memory forces itself on me. I squeeze

  my eyes shut, trying to block what I instinctively do not want to see, but it’s

  too late. The past refuses to be ignored and I am transported back to Texas,

  to a day when I am excitedly running up the stairs of my family home to