Escaping Reality

by Lisa Renee Jones

  I’m crossing the street when Liam shackles my wrist, claiming control

  and all but dragging me with him, the big bully. “Let go, Liam.”

  “Not a chance. Not until we’re in the room.”

  “I’m not going to the room with you.”

  He doesn’t even look at me. “Like hell you’re not.”

  “I’ll make a scene.”

  He stops at the curb on the other side of the road, and turns to me,

  his eyes hard, his voice crackling with barely contained anger. “No. You

  won’t.” It’s a command he expects me to follow, solidified by the way he

  starts walking again, tugging me along with him.

  “Liam—”

  “Don’t talk, Amy. You’ll only piss me off more.”

  He’s pissed off? I’m the one who has been embarrassed and treated

  like crap. I’m the one who is angry. He won’t intimidate me. He won’t

  control me like this. He wants to go at it with me, I’m in. Bring it on.

  We reach the hotel in record speed. The doorman says hello to us

  and Liam doesn’t even look at him, and I’m pretty sure we’re a walking

  billboard for a couple about to go to war. Oh, yes. We are getting good at

  making scenes and getting noticed. I’m failing miserably at staying off the

  radar, and I have Liam to thank for that. No, I amend again. I have me to

  thank for that. I let this happen. I let him happen, and I have to do

  something about it.

  We enter the elevator and he slides his card through the panel and

  then pulls me hard against him, forcing my hands to his chest, with

  nowhere else to go. My legs settle against his, and damn it, I am affected,

  wet and aching for him, and this only serves to spike my anger a notch

  higher. He’s controlling me and I don’t like it. I can feel him willing me to

  look at him and I refuse.

  As if punishing me for my insubordination, his hand slides down my

  back and cups my backside, caressing deeply, and I swear I feel it like a

  stroke between my thighs. Barely containing a moan, I curl my fingers

  around his shirt and I want to scream with the injustice of how aroused I

  am.

  The doors to the elevator slide open and my heart jackhammers. The

  adrenaline pouring through me is like acid in my blood, burning me with

  anticipation. The swipe of his card on his door feels eternal, almost slow

  motion, and then Liam is dragging me inside the hallway and I am against

  the wall.

  “Stop shoving me around, Liam. Stop trapping me, and—”

  His mouth comes down hard on mine, a deep thrust of his tongue

  claiming me, the taste of his anger like a shot of spicy, bitter whiskey about

  to pull me into a haze I cannot allow myself to enter. I shove at his chest

  and he tears his mouth from mine, and I am both relieved and tormented

  by the loss of the intimate connection.

  “You have no right to do what you did back there,” I hiss.

  “You made that pretty damn clear tonight.”

  “I didn’t do anything, Liam. You did.”

  “What I did was have a shit day you completed with an exclamation

  mark.” He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it aside, then does the same

  with his tie.

  “I repeat. I didn’t do this. You did.”

  He leans on the wall. “And you know how I wanted to deal with this

  shit day? I wanted to get lost in you, and us, and what did I find? You with

  him.”

  “He was there when I got there.”

  “And that made you drink out of his bottle.” It’s not a question. It’s

  an accusation. His hand slides into my hair, and he stares down at me, his

  hand moving roughly over my shirt. “I have no right, you say? That’s what it

  comes down to, now doesn’t it? I have no right to want you all to myself. I

  have no right to expect you to be loyal.”

  “You—”

  He rips my shirt and I gasp as he unsnaps my bra, teasing my nipple,

  pinching it. He is rough, hard in a way I’ve never known him to be. “I liked

  this shirt and now it’s ruined,” I whisper, but I’m not talking about the shirt.

  I’m talking about us.

  “And you like being fucked. So that’s what I’m going to do. Maybe

  you want me to be

  that guy I was before I met you. Maybe you want me to fuck you and

  leave you. Or maybe you’d rather him do it.”

  “No.” My voice is barely audible. I feel defeated. He unbuttons my

  shorts and I let him.

  “I don’t want Jared.”

  He shoves my shorts and panties down my hips and his fingers are

  between my thighs, stroking the sensitive flesh before the clothes ever hit

  the floor. “Maybe,” he adds, acid in his tone, “we should invite Meg and

  Jared over to join us.”

  Hurt and anger overcome me. “Is that what you want? Permission to

  go back to what you were before me? To fuck everyone and anyone?”

  “You’re nice and wet just talking about it—”

  “Stop!” I shove at his chest. “Stop talking like that and stop touching

  me.”

  He surprises me and lets me go, leaving me standing there with my

  shirt ripped open and my shorts at my feet. He motions to the door. “You

  want me to stop. You want to go. Then go.”

  I hug myself. “Who are you? I don’t even know you.”

  “I can only be me, baby, and I’m not sure you can say the same. I’m

  not sure you know who you are and I damn sure don’t.”

  The insult that hits a little too close to home, like a slap, and I slump.

  “If you wanted to hurt me, it worked.” I kick off the shorts and throw them

  at him. “Keep your stupid clothes and money and asshole attitude.” I cut

  around him, not even caring I’m in a ripped shirt and sandals and nothing

  else, and I don’t stop until I’m at the dresser digging for my clothes that I

  bought.

  I’ve been alone a long time. I can do it again. I will do it again.

  Liam’s hand comes down on my arm and he turns me. “What are you

  doing?”

  “Putting on my clothes that don’t make me feel like some kind of

  prostitute you own.”

  “Prostitute. How can you even say that? You were the one with

  someone else.”

  “I wasn’t with him, Liam. I was with you. Was as in past.”

  He pulls me to him and the heat of his body, the feel of him pressed

  to me, is heaven and hell at the same time. I want him. I need him. But not

  like this. Not. Like. This. “Is that what you want?” he demands. “Me gone?

  Me out of your life?”

  I know I should say “yes.” I should walk away and get out of what is

  trouble waiting to happen. “You’re being an ass.”

  “Do you want me out of your life, Amy?”

  “No,” I whisper. “I don’t want you out of my life. I want you to stop

  acting like this.”

  His mouth comes down on mine and it is hot and possessive and it is

  not heaven and hell this time. It is heaven, and I sink into the kiss, melt into

  his body, the argument and the rest of the world disappearing. I am

  connected to this man. I need him like I didn’t think I could need.

  I grab his shirt and I pay him back for what he did to mine. I rip it

  open, letting bu
ttons fly, and my hands push under the cloth, absorbing

  warm skin and taut muscle. I wrap myself around him. I cannot get close

  enough to him.

  He lifts me onto the dresser against the wall and I do not even

  remember him shoving his pants down. There is just his mouth on mine, his

  hands on my breast, and the hard length of him pressing between my

  thighs, into the wet, sensitive V of my body.

  He is as he has never been with me. I am as I have never been with

  anyone. Wild, out of control. He is kissing me everywhere, whiskers rasping

  erotically over my skin, tongue licking and tasting, and driving me insane.

  His hands curve under my backside, arching me against him, and he pumps

  into me, drives harder and harder until we are so lost in passion, we cling to

  each other, our heads buried in each other’s necks, our bodies moving

  fiercely, urgently.

  The edge of release comes over me in an unexpected, intense

  rush—too fast, and not fast enough. I gasp with the clenching of my

  muscles and then I am there, tumbling into the dark place that is not

  danger but pleasure, millions of sensations rolling through me,

  overwhelming me. In some distant part of my mind, I register Liam’s groan,

  the shake of his body, the tension in his muscles. For long moments, or

  perhaps minutes, we just hold each other. Time stands still and then slowly

  comes back to me. It is then that I become aware of the dampness between

  my thighs and the reality of what has just happened. Panic rises in me.

  Flashes of fire burn in my mind.

  “Get off me,” I order. “Get off. Let me down from the dresser.” My

  heart is thundering and my hands are shaking.

  Liam leans back, looking baffled. “Amy—”

  “Let me go, Liam. Let me go now.”

  There is a stunned look on his face, but he doesn’t argue. He pulls out

  of me and he tries to help me off the dresser, but I don’t let him. I jump off

  the edge and run to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and cleaning myself

  up. I can feel him behind me, watching me. I can’t even clean up without

  him hovering. I can’t control my life when he’s controlling it, and yet

  another eruption of emotion is on me before I can stop it.

  I whirl on him. “We didn’t use a condom.”

  He runs a hand through his hair. “The chances that—”

  “Don’t downplay it. Don’t tell me the odds of me being pregnant are

  slim.” My voice cracks. I think I might cry. “There is a chance. There’s a big

  chance.” I look down and I’m still in my stupid sandals, though somehow

  my shirt is gone. I look ridiculous and I don’t care. “I cannot be pregnant. I

  can’t be.”

  “Is having my baby that horrible?”

  “My God. You of all people who have women chasing your money

  should be freaked out right now.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You should be. You should be, Liam. I don’t know why you don’t get

  it. Everyone in my life dies. They die. Our baby—” He steps toward me and I

  hold up a hand. “Don’t even think about it. You acted like an ass tonight

  and this is what happened. This is where it got us.”

  “I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Do you think my father wanted to let my mother die?” I’m shouting.

  I never shout but I’m shouting. “You can’t protect me. No one can.” I’ve

  said too much, but it’s too late. I can’t even seem to care. My chest is

  heaving, my body trembling.

  He stares at me, and the torment in his eyes rips through my

  emotions and creates more. I am on overload, tunneling into the abyss, and

  I do not know what to do. Suddenly, I feel him, rather than my panic. He’s

  hurt. He’s really hurt. I don’t want to care, but I do. “Liam—”

  He turns and disappears. I stare after him and fight through a million

  emotions. He was an ass tonight and I should be furious, but there was

  something in him just now, really during this whole encounter, that I have

  never felt from him. Something painful.

  I grab the red silk robe he’d given me from the back of the door and

  tie it around me before seeking Liam out. I find him on the couch, his

  elbows on his knees, his head on his hands.

  “Liam?”

  He looks up at me and there is more turbulence, more darkness.

  “You’re right. I was an ass. My father called today, and it’s not an excuse.

  It’s just a fact. I always say I won’t let him mess with my head, but he does.”

  “Your father? I thought he was gone?”

  “Like I said. Sharks swimming at my feet, baby. He only calls when he

  wants money or he’s in trouble. It started out with him wanting to make

  amends, and have his son back in his life years ago, but it was only about

  money.”

  Oh, God. The way he values honesty makes sense now. I want to go

  to him but I’m afraid he’ll stop talking. “He just…” He scrubs his jaw and

  starts again. “He was drunk driving today and hit a car with a family in it.”

  I grab my stomach. “Oh, God. No.”

  He nods. “A little girl’s mother is now in intensive care and she was in

  the car while her mother almost bled to death. I’d just found out when I

  went to Earl’s. I felt like being with you would somehow…” He hesitates. “I

  saw you with him, and I snapped. I’m sorry.”

  I rush forward and I go down on my knees in front of him, my hands

  settling on his knee.

  “I’m sorry. I would never make you feel like I made you feel tonight

  on purpose.”

  “You didn’t make me feel this. I did. I think maybe I have a little too

  much of my pops in me for both our good.”

  “No. You were human tonight, Liam.”

  “You don’t get it. Every time he does this, I crawl out of my own skin.

  I have to go to New York. I booked the last flight out tonight.”

  I don’t even hesitate in my response. “I’ll go with you.” He needs me.

  I have to be there for him. I won’t be anywhere anyone will find me. I’ll be

  with Liam. I’ll be safe.

  “No. This will hit the papers and if you’re with me, you will, too. We

  both know you can’t have that happen.”

  I’m taken aback. What does he mean? What does he know? “Liam—”

  “We’ve already established you don’t want to be around me when

  I’m like this. I’m not done being an ass. I’ve got a lot more of my father to

  deal with and a lot more of the me you don’t like to follow.”

  “I can deal with you being an ass now that I know why.”

  “I can’t. Just please stay here in the hotel where I know you’re safe.

  There are cameras and security, especially in this suite. I need to know

  you’re safe.”

  He’s decided. I hear it in his voice. “Yes. Okay. I’ll stay, but I really

  want to go with you.”

  “Stay, Amy. And think about tonight when I’m gone.”

  “There’s nothing to think about.”

  “We both know that’s not true.” He sets me aside and pushes to his

  feet.

  I follow him to the bedroom and sit on the bed while he changes into

  faded jeans and a light blue pullover, and boots, then fills a
suitcase. “When

  will you be back?”

  “I don’t know. I have to take care of this kid my father hurt and her

  family, and get him back into rehab.”

  Back into rehab. This is very much an ongoing battle for Liam.

  “Where’s your phone?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. I don’t even remember dropping my purse or briefcase

  when we came in the door.”

  His jaw tenses and he turns away, returning with my things. “I want

  you to put Derek’s number in your phone. I know you don’t know him, but

  he’s like a brother to me. I trust him and so can you.”

  I pull out my phone and Liam takes it, keying in the number for me

  before going down on a knee in front of me. His expression softens and his

  fingers caress down my cheek. “For the record, we’d make beautiful babies

  together.”

  My breath lodges in my throat and I lean into him, resting my

  forehead on his. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I just hope you want me to come back.” He kisses my forehead and

  then digs out the key to the car, pressing it to my palm. “I’ll take a cab. Use

  it if you need it.” He reaches behind him and pulls out his wallet and a

  credit card.

  I shake my head. “No, Liam.”

  “I’m not getting on this plane thinking you might need something I

  can’t give you. Take it. The pin is 1117. We will both have piece of mind in

  knowing you have it if you need it.”

  Reluctantly, I nod and accept it. “Hurry back.”

  He pushes to his feet, stares down at me for several seconds and

  then grabs his bag and starts walking. Fighting the urge to chase after him, I

  dig my fingers into the blanket and wait for the sound I dread. The door

  opening and shutting with him on the outside.

  I am alone again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I wake up the next morning in an empty bed, with my cell phone on

  the pillow where I wish Liam’s head were resting. He didn’t call. He’d sent

  me a text message when he landed in New York that was nothing more

  than Are you okay? followed by walking into the hospital when I’d

  confirmed I was fine. I’d called him several times but he had not answered.

  Sitting up, I scan the room that has oddly begun to feel like home,

  but today it is an empty shell and I have nothing to fill it with. It scares me

  how wrong I feel without Liam. How quickly I have become used to waking