She wraps her legs tightly around my waist and continues to press her lips to mine. When our tongues touch and pull away, it feels like the ebb and flow of the tides.
Running my fingers down her side, I reach the bottom of her blouse and then slide my hand up against her bare skin.
She arches her back. With the tips of my fingers, I feel her skin spark up with goose bumps. Her breaths quicken and her breasts move up and down with each inhale.
I slide my fingers underneath the wire of her bra and suddenly she pulls away.
“Is this okay?” I ask, not wanting to take this any further than she wants to.
She looks surprised and seems to be thinking about something, but then she nods her head and reaches over to kiss me again.
When I kiss her back, she jerks away again and this time slides from underneath me and covers her mouth with her hands.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She shakes her head and grabs the bright yellow pillow from the side of the couch.
I reach over to touch her, but she pushes me away and makes a loud gurgling sound.
A moment later, she throws up into the pillow. She throws up again and again until it is soaked in vomit.
When she tries to pull away from me, I grab her by the waist and help lead her to the bathroom.
When she buries her head in the toilet, I pull her hair out of her face. There's an elastic band laying on the counter and I tie her hair up in a loose bun.
“I'm fine,” she says after each time.
I rub her back and agree with her. Then just as she's about to get up and wash her face, she folds in half and gets sick again.
I stay with her on the tile floor for close to an hour. She shivers and I hold her tightly.
When she has gotten all of it out of her system, I help her up and hold her as she washes her face and hands and brushes her teeth. I then go to the kitchen and fill up a glass of water and tell her to sip it lightly.
Dehydrated and exhausted, she takes a few big gulps and then buries her head back in the toilet.
“Your body can’t handle anything that big right now,” I whisper as she throws up the water. “You need to just sip a little bit at a time. That way you can get hydrated and everything is going to be okay.”
Suddenly, she begins to cry.
“No, it's not going to be okay,” she pleads, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.
I lead her to the bed and help her change out of her clothes. I turn around when she puts on her sweats and I tuck her into bed.
Not sure what the right thing to do is, I turn off the lights.
I grab my phone and my bag and start walking on my tiptoes toward the front door.
When I step on the uneven floorboard, it makes a loud creaking sound.
“Aren't you going to lie down?” she mumbles.
“Do you want me to?” I ask.
“Yes, please,” she says very slowly.
By the time I sit down on the edge of her bed and wrap my arms around her over the blanket, I hear her drift off into a peaceful sleep.
12
Emma
I wake up the following morning with a terrible hangover. My head is buzzing, my lips are parched, and my throat is dry.
I try to swallow, but it feels like my mouth is full of cotton and I cough.
I turn around and see him lying in bed next to me.
Liam's eyes are shut and he's even snoring a little bit.
When I try to lift my head, shooting pains run up and down my spine. I slow down my movements to stop myself from losing control.
I stagger toward the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I'm quite a mess. I don't remember taking a shower last night, but my hair looks like I have slept on it wet.
It's crammed, crinkled, and totally matted.
I grab the glass off the counter, fill it up, and drink one tall glass of water. I quickly follow it up with another.
After brushing my teeth, going to the bathroom, and popping three liquid gel Advil into my mouth, I debate whether I should go back to bed or simply jump into the shower.
The warm bed and the rumpled sheets call to me, but I know that if I were to take a shower and wash my hair, I would feel a lot better. I turn it on, wait for the water to warm up, and then get in.
The water glides down my body, invigorating every part of me. When steam starts to rise, I turn it down a little bit and revel in the coolness of the stream.
Stepping out of the shower, I feel like a new woman. My head still hurts, but my thoughts are clear now, less confused.
Wrapping a towel around my body, I tiptoe into the main room and put on a clean pair of leggings and a flattering black T-shirt with a V-neck and tapering waist.
“Hey, you're up,” Liam says while sitting up.
As soon as the covers fall from him, I see that he's dressed in the same clothes that he wore last night.
The only thing that's on the floor next to him are his shoes.
“You slept in your clothes? Those jeans couldn’t have been comfortable.”
“Oh, it was fine. I was so beat from the drive and… Everything that happened,” he says, rubbing his eyes.
“I'm really sorry about drinking so much,” I say after a beat.
He tilts his head to one side and smiles out the corner of his mouth.
“I don't know what happened. I don't drink like that very often.”
“No worries,” he says. “We've all been there.”
“I'm not sure that's really true, but I appreciate you saying that.”
I head to the kitchen and offer to make him some breakfast. He agrees.
After washing up, he comes out looking sparkling clean and utterly delicious. I don't have much in the fridge, but I do have a box of chocolate pancake mix I've been meaning to use up.
“So, what exactly happened last night?” I ask after we take our plates to the dining room table that functions mainly as my office space.
I move my papers and my computer, clearing four placemats.
I set down the plate of pancakes. I also have some strawberries and blueberries which I place next to the maple syrup.
“You really don't remember anything?” Liam asks.
“I remember that we had a fight and then I ran after you and we kissed. Then things get kinda blurry. We came back here and I got sick, right?”
“Yes, you could say that.”
“It wasn't too bad, was it?”
“No, not at all,” he says, taking a big bite and smothering the rest of his plate in more maple syrup.
I don't believe him, but I don't really want to relive the details.
Luckily, what I do remember is the kiss.
We were standing under the streetlights.
I was barefoot. He held me close. Our mouths touched…
“Are you okay?” he asks and I realize that I have just lost myself in his eyes.
I wonder for a second if I'll ever be here with him again. This morning feels like we're past the romance.
I mean he slept over, but it's all very friendly. Not sexy. The pancakes fill me up and the sugar from the syrup gives me a rush of energy.
When I get up to wash the dishes, he helps me clear the table. He places the plates into the sink and then brushes his forearm over mine.
Just touching him sends a shock of exhilaration through my body. He wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses me near my ear lobe.
I tilt my head toward the ceiling, exposing my neck, and letting his lips linger.
His kisses are soft. At first, they even feel a little bit unromantic, almost like belonging to a friend.
Then our eyes meet and things change.
I see the spark that I haven't seen before.
He kisses my mouth and I kiss him back.
When our tongues touch, a shock wave reverberates through my body.
He leans his body close to mine and I push into him.
We have had so ma
ny starts and stops, so I don't let myself get too excited. I keep thinking that I'm going to lose this moment.
Someone is going to walk in, he's going to pull away, or I’ll get cold feet.
His hands make their way firmly down my arms and then back up the small of my back. He positions me, moving me closer to him.
He drapes his body over mine and takes my head in his hands.
He kisses me over and over again until whatever worries I have start to disappear.
It feels good to be with him. His body is hard and strong, but there are layers of clothing separating us.
I want to feel his skin directly on mine, but I can't bring myself to pull away in order to take off his shirt.
Luckily, he starts to tug on it while keeping his lips to mine. After a few moments, we both start to laugh.
The laughter changes the mood somewhat, but once our eyes meet, nothing can stop us.
He pulls off his T-shirt. I run my fingers up and down his six pack and he flexes his stomach muscles.
I lick my lips.
He lifts my chin up to his and says, “Your turn.”
“What about your pants?” I ask and tug at the belt, letting it drop open.
His jeans slide down and I push them the rest of the way off his legs.
Keenly aware of the fact that I'm not wearing a bra, I feel a little bit embarrassed.
Liam catches my hesitation and whispers, “You're the most beautiful woman in the world.”
My cheeks get flushed.
“You are,” he says.
He tugs off my shirt.
When we get to the bedroom, I lie down, he kneels over me, taking my breasts into his mouth.
He slowly moves his hand down to my panty line. Still dressed in my leggings, I wrap my legs around him, but he pushes me away.
“I'm going to need you to take those off,” he says and starts to roll my pants down my legs.
My breath gets caught in the back of my throat as I wait for his lips to touch my inner thigh.
The familiar warming sensation starts building at my core.
He runs his lips just at the top of my panty line and my breath slows down even more. Then with one quick motion, he pulls my panties down to my knees, helping them off with his feet.
I wrap my legs firmly around his torso and grab onto his strong, hard butt.
It feels hard, strong, and powerful like it belongs to someone who is not completely unfamiliar with physical activity.
Somehow, being underneath his body gives me strength that I didn't know I had.
I push him over and climb on top. His eyes get wide and then a big smile forms on his lips.
He runs his fingers up and down my stomach while cupping my breasts and after he slips on a condom, I get on top of him again.
At first, it feels like he's piercing me, separating me in half, but after a while, I get used to the pain and it feels good.
We move as one for some time, feeling every part of each other and reveling in each other's bodies. Then like a switch, something goes off and a throbbing sensation starts to build within me.
I know that I can't hold on much longer. I move my hips up and down and just as I get very close to it, I collapse on top of him and let him do the rest.
A little explosion goes off in my body, followed by a million more.
A few moments later, he moans my name and pushes himself into me one last time.
13
Emma
After we make love, I fall asleep in his arms. I have never been able to sleep well next to anyone, but Liam is different.
He gives me just enough space while still being there, cradling me.
My body fits perfectly with his and I allow myself to drift off.
When we wake up later that afternoon, it feels like everything that has happened this morning was a dream.
I keep my eyes closed for a long time, burying my head under the blankets and trying to prolong my sleep as long as possible. When I finally do open them, I see Liam sitting at the table working on his computer.
“Hey,” I say sleepily.
“Hey. I hope it's okay that I set up shop here, but I have a deadline and I can't miss a day of writing.”
“Don’t you work for yourself?” I ask.
“Yes, but that doesn't mean that I don't have deadlines.”
I'm about to say something in response, but he starts to type feverishly and I leave him alone.
Instead I pull on the clothes that I find on the floor and grab my own computer.
It's Saturday and for the longest time I've been trying not to work on weekends, but all those attempts have been futile.
Maybe… My eyes drift over to Liam who is totally engrossed in his work.
Maybe this weekend could be different.
In the past, my work was my security blanket. It was the place I turned to where everything made sense.
There were, of course, frustrations with Corrin and whenever I couldn’t write a story that I really wanted to or had to make changes that I didn't want to, but my work was something that I controlled.
My family, especially my parents and my sisters, have always been difficult to deal with. I love them but they also drive me nuts and my way of coping is to work instead.
When I first met Alex, I tried to turn my attention to him, but he was so busy with his own work that we just ended up working a lot together.
The few times that we didn't, we got into fights and again I turned toward my work to get me through it.
Going to my emails, I see one from Corrin. She doesn't usually email me and this one is marked urgent. When I scan the body of the email, my blood turns to ice.
Please give me an overview of the follow-up article on D. B. Carter by Tuesday at the latest. You said that you wanted to investigate the guy who gave you his address. We have some resources available to help you – a private investigator. His name and contact info are attached. Let me know what steps you are planning on taking to find out more about his past. If you can get another interview, that would be amazing. If we can get this article out in a week, we can publish it on our website and then run an expanded version in print. Keep up the good work.
I bite my lower lip and reread her words over and over again, forcing them to sink in.
Occasionally, I glance over at Liam and wonder how the hell I'm going to bring this up.
I like him.
I like him a lot.
But I also love my job. I have to get her the story, but the only way that I can do it is to get Liam to give it to me.
Closing my laptop, I toss it on the bed and go to the kitchen to make some coffee.
I walk past his table and see him hard at work, typing feverishly on the laptop. He's wearing noise canceling earphones and his mind is clearly somewhere else. Next to him on the table I see a timer. The clock is going down and there are eight minutes and twenty seconds left.
I make a pot of coffee and start the tea kettle. I don't know which one he prefers, so I just make both.
Mostly I pace around the kitchen trying to figure out how I’m going to ask him to do this.
While the water boils, I look at my phone and read Corrin's email one more time.
I look at the PI’s contact info. I know that if I call him without mentioning any of this to Liam, then whatever inkling of the relationship that we have started is going to vanish completely.
I have hurt him and lied to him once.
He has forgiven me.
The second time he won’t.
No, the only way that I can do this article is if he agrees to it.
But what if he doesn't? My thoughts go in circles.
If he doesn't agree to it, then I have to say no to Corrin and if I say no to this then… Could she fire me over this?
Even if she doesn't, even if by some miracle I keep my job, what kind of stories will I get to tell next?
I'm going to be relegated back to quizzes and rewriting celebrity
social media announcements that no one really cares about it.
When I first got my job at Coast, I did everything I could to try to get them to change the content and to open themselves up to investigative stories like this one.
I argued and showed them examples from BuzzFeed and how they have become a majorly more profitable business by focusing not only on fluff but also on serious topics.
The thing about this story is that it’s so appealing and so shareable.
It’s a human interest story. It's an investigation. It's a story that has never been told.
Plus, since the magazine is completely nonpolitical, it's also something that can appeal to everyone.
Corrin and everyone else at Coast know this already, especially given the number of other newspapers and magazines that have picked it up as well as the number of retweets and hits that the story got online.
Everyone knows this except for the one person who can give me the okay for writing it, Liam.
“Hey,” Liam says, walking up to me and putting his arms around my shoulders.
He startles me and I jump.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean anything by that.”
“No, it's not you. I was just drifting off. I haven’t had my tea yet.”
“Tea is a very good idea,” Liam says. “But coffee is better.”
We take a few long steps while we smile at each other with our eyes.
“So, were you writing just then?” I ask.
He nods.
“I thought that you said that you usually dictated.”
“I do, but I can only really do it when I'm alone. I need some privacy. So, it was nice to actually put my hands on the keyboard.”
“I saw that you had the timer going.”
“Yes. I rely on the Pomodoro Technique. I work in little sprints. Usually fifteen, twenty, or twenty-five minutes. Sometimes I take breaks in between, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I walk over to a beautiful woman, kiss her, and have a cup of coffee.”
He takes a step closer to me and our mouths meet.
I lose myself in his kiss briefly, before pulling away and realizing that the feeling of knowledge in the pit of my stomach is not going to go away until I talk to him.
All the Secrets Page 6
