Control

by Laura Marie Altom

  “What do you mean? It fucking is a cool story. How many guys have you met who have their own elevator to the beach?”

  We’d landed, and the door swished open to a tiled, partially walled stone grotto. A waterfall’s gentle gurgle could barely be heard above the crashing surf, and a sunken hot tub was surrounded by enough boulders that it could have been a steaming tidal pool.

  For the longest time I just stood there, hands on my hips, gaping. “Honestly, I’m not sure if we’re on the set of a rapper’s video fantasy or in the exotic lair of a Bond villain. Liam, this place is crazy…”

  “Crazy good, though, right?” There he was again, craving my acceptance. It would have been funny if I hadn’t found it curious and sad. “When I’m not here, all of this is covered. When I called, the caretakers got it ready.”

  Because I sensed that he needed me to, I gifted him my biggest smile. “It’s crazy amazing. You should be proud.”

  “Thanks.” He returned my smile. “I think.”

  “You should know.” I knelt to dangle my fingers in the warm water, wishing I could get in. “What do your folks think of it?”

  He sobered. “They’ve never been. We don’t get along.”

  “Me, neither—I mean, I don’t much like my parents.”

  “What’s your story?”

  “Nothing too exciting.” I wished I could tell him. I wanted to, but the words wouldn’t come out. Maybe if he hadn’t put the time restraint on our relationship, maybe if money weren’t involved, I could have explained, but as it was, there was too much baggage between us.

  “Walk with me.” He got down on his knees beside me, rolling up the hems of my jeans, then gently removing one shoe and then the other. He then took off my socks, tucking one in each sneaker. He took my breath away with his sexy-slow grin. “Pretty sure it’s illegal to not be barefoot on the beach.”

  My throat knotted. “I’ve never been.”

  “Never?” He rose. “How’s that possible?”

  “Just is what it is. I crossed the Atlantic on my honeymoon.”

  He took the bag with our dinner, then eased his fingers between mine.

  I was unprepared for the way I sunk in the sand, and when I stumbled, he caught me. The sun-warmed sand felt foreign—but good—between my toes, as did his palm against mine.

  Once we reached the surf, our stroll was less work, as the water hardened the sand.

  We’d trekked along in companionable silence for a good ten minutes when he asked, “Your husband—is he the one who…” He stopped short, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

  “Is he the one who abused me? Yes.”

  “Was he always that way?”

  “No. At first, he was charming. My girlfriends were all jealous and my parents thought he hung the moon—in fact, they still do.”

  He stopped to meet my tear-filled gaze. “Please tell me you’re kidding?”

  “I wish.” I probably should have stopped there, but at this point, holding his hand, staring into his beautiful eyes, with the surf crashing behind me, washing away my sins, I felt compelled to keep going. “My husband is a master at only allowing people to see what he wants them to see. I didn’t have a glimpse of his controlling side until our honeymoon.” I squeezed Liam’s hand and he squeezed back, letting me know my release was okay, that I was okay. “I’d never had room service before, and it was such a novelty that I wanted to order a little of everything. He was in the shower, and so I picked up the phone and ordered croissants and waffles and crepes. It took two waiters to carry it all, and they arranged our meal all fancy on a little table overlooking the Eiffel Tower. I was so happy. I couldn’t stop smiling. And then Blaine came in, and he took one look at our feast, and said, ‘You can’t eat all of that.’ Well, I told him of course I couldn’t. I’d ordered for both of us so we could share. He’d gotten the strangest look on his face—kind of like my dad used to get when I missed curfew. All stern and disapproving. And then he said, ‘You’re not eating any of that crap. I married you, not a cow. I hate fat women. Being fat is a sign of having no self-control. As my wife, you will always be in control. Are we clear on this?’ ” I choked back a sob as the horror of his speech still crushed me, pinning me under as surely as if I’d been trapped under a wave.

  Liam drew me against him, dropping our dinner to hold me with both arms. He kissed the crown of my head and stroked his hands up and down my back. “I’m so sorry I took you to that salon,” he finally said.

  Tired of crying, tired of being dead, of being anything other than vibrantly, fully alive, I said, “It’s okay.” And for some reason, it now was. “I’m a hot mess and I know it. Most days, I want to be. It helps me hide.”

  “But you’re stunning.” He framed my face with his hands, brushing my tears away with his thumbs. “I hate that he made you feel ugly. When you’re ready—if you’re ever ready—let me know, and we’ll call someone to come to you. You don’t ever have to go to a salon again.”

  “Liam, stop…” I gave him a light push away. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to hold me; it had more to do with the fact that for the first time in a while, I not only felt capable of standing on my own, but looked forward to it. “I appreciate you wanting to toss your money at my pain and just wipe it all away, but it’s not that easy.”

  “You’re right. Sorry.”

  I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Remember when you told me to stop apologizing all the time? We’re good.” And we were. For now. For this single, shining moment, tucked away in our own secret cove. “But I’m hungry. When are you fixing dinner?”

  —

  “The secret to building a strong fire is all in the kindling.”

  “Uh-huh…” Could Liam be any more sexy? I loved this new earthy, manly-man thing he had going. For the past twenty minutes, he’d ventured up and down the shore in search of driftwood and bits of flotsam that he now piled in front of the log he’d planted me on to unpack dinner. His feet were all sandy and his hair wind-fingered. The setting sun cast his angular features in a golden glow that I wished I could forever capture, carrying it with me to remind me of his potential. This was the man whose smile I could lose myself in—or, could have, if I’d still been a girl brave enough to get lost.

  By the time the sun tucked itself into the horizon, the moon rose, dusting us in silver.

  I spread out our loot to find all sorts of delicious goodies. “I’ll give you props for fire-making, but I’m assuming you didn’t have anything to do with our meal?”

  “Guilty as charged.” He took a foil vegi packet and set it over the coals.

  “How’re you cooking the meat?”

  “Woman, watch and learn…” Using a pocketknife, he whittled a stick to a point, then skewered the steaks. Judging by just the garlicky scent of the marinade, we were in for a treat.

  The night had turned chilly and I shivered.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “Not as bad as I was back in Arkansas.”

  He wedged the stick holding our steaks between a couple of rocks, then took a sweatshirt from over the log where I’d draped it. “The whole point in my bringing this was for you to wear it.”

  “I didn’t know if you’d brought it for me…”

  He dragged me to my feet, then eased it over my head, working my arms through, accidentally brushing the sides of my breasts. His touch, combined with the fleece’s soft, warm kiss, coursed through me in honeyed pleasure. After he’d tugged the hoodie down, it reached my thighs, and he had to roll up the sleeves. Stepping back to assess his handiwork, he whistled. “Damn, you’re a hot date.”

  Because he made me feel hot, I couldn’t stop grinning, and so I curtsied and performed what I’m sure was a horribly silly pirouette. But he laughed anyway, and applauded, and in the process, added healing salve and a clean white bandage to my wounded soul.

  When we sat together on the log, I rested my head on his shoulder, just taking it all in. The fire’
s radiant heat. The surf’s hypnotic play. The solid feel of Liam alongside me. Was I still earthbound? Because honestly, this all had taken on the feel of the loveliest of dreams.

  All spells were eventually broken, and this one was no different. But since Liam had only temporarily left me to take the vegetable packet from the fire and turn the steaks, I couldn’t be too sad.

  He’d put on his own sweatshirt and used the sleeve for a hot pad, dropping the foil packet on the blanket in front of us. “Did you happen to find any plates in that bag?”

  “Nope. But I do have these…” I held up steak knives and forks.

  He winced. “Guess I botched this meal.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’ve never had a more perfect night.”

  “Really?” He sat back on his heels.

  I nodded. If time could be frozen, I’d put the past hour on a continuous loop.

  “Good.”

  We exchanged smiles and heated stares and then he was taking the steaks from the fire, nestling them alongside the zucchini, summer squash, cherry tomatoes and new potatoes. He sliced the meat and fed it to me in bite-sized chunks. I’d never had meat more tender or so tenderly served. For dessert, sumptuous cheesecake practically melted on my tongue.

  After we’d eaten, and stretched our legs, warming our bare feet by the fire, he asked, “If you were stranded on an island with only one food, what would it be?”

  “That’s impossible to answer.”

  “Try. What’s the first thing that pops in your head?”

  “Okay, this will probably sound stupid, but Rice Krispies Treats—homemade. The prepackaged ones just don’t do it for me.”

  He laughed. “Agreed. God, I haven’t had one in years. We should make them.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Who first made them for you?”

  “My mom.” Thinking of my idyllic childhood made me wistful for the way things used to be. How different might everything now be if I’d never met Blaine? Would I be happily married to someone else? Would I have a little boy or girl? Maybe both? And would we spend lazy Sunday afternoons barbecuing around my parents’ pool, watching the kids splash with their floaties?

  Liam traced the twin lines between my eyes that were caused by my frown. “I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

  “You didn’t—well, not directly.” I tilted my head back, dazzled by the stars. “I had the best childhood any girl could ask for. Fairy-tale birthday parties and catching fireflies and a swing hanging from the backyard oak. If someone had told me at my wedding that five years later, I’d never speak to Stewart and Lila again—” My words caught in my throat. The pain of losing my parents to that animal was truly more than I could bear.

  Liam eased his arm around my shoulder, holding me close. “I’m guessing they didn’t know you were in Arkansas?”

  I shook my head. “Blaine was at a convention in Nashville when I just vanished.”

  “Didn’t your parents ask questions? Weren’t police involved?”

  “That’s the really painful part—no. I used library computers to check newspapers and there was never a word. Honestly, I think after the trouble they all thought I’d caused, they were relieved to find me gone.”

  “Okay, wait—trouble you’d caused? I don’t understand.”

  Me, neither. “Can we not ruin our night by dredging all of this up?”

  “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

  Forcing a smile the way I’d learned to force down memories, I said, “What I really want is to eat the rest of your cheesecake.”

  He not only agreed, but fed it to me.

  23

  Liam

  My husband is a master at only allowing people to see what he wants them to see.

  Back at the house, I couldn’t get Ella’s phrase out of my head. Not so much because of what she’d said, but what she hadn’t. Why had she referred to her husband in the present tense? An honest mistake? Or could she still be married to the guy? Considering the fact that she’d been living under an assumed name, I suppose she could still be legally tied to the pig. Regardless, it wasn’t my concern.

  I’d made a fire in the living room, then sat there, waiting for Ella to turn off the upstairs shower. If I’d had my way, I’d be in there with her, but after the stories she’d told, my best guess was that we were a long way off from her being ready for anything more physical than hugs.

  And that was okay.

  Sort of.

  Since bringing her here, I’d craved taking her on damn near every flat surface and I was calculating how to do the deed on some not-so-flat spaces. The elevator was a no-brainer. I’d stop the car midway down, then take her doggy style. In my rich fantasy life, she’d wear a string bikini that just happened to have come undone. Oops, she’d tease, with her finger to those bee-stung lips. She’d bend over, ravaging my cock, and from just the view of her bare ass and the promise of exploring her sweet cleft…

  I closed my eyes and groaned, adjusting my fly before I popped right there on the sofa.

  The shower shut off and in my mind’s eye I saw her standing in my bathroom naked, dripping, her nipples all puckered from the night’s chill and begging to be sucked.

  It took every ounce of my self-control and then some not to storm up the stairs and at the very least, ask if she needed help with her toweling. We could improvise from there.

  I hadn’t waited this long for a woman since college.

  On the flip side, I hadn’t wanted a woman this badly since college.

  It seemed inconceivable that this was only the fourth day I’d even known Ella. Before her, what had driven me out of bed in the morning? Just days earlier, I’d spent all my time dreaming up new apps and business ventures and ways partnerships could make my company that much stronger. Now, I found myself not giving a shit about any of the empire I’d spent the bulk of my life trying to build. Right now, if I turned the whole thing over to my board, I’d never have to work another day. But then what?

  Most guys my age settled down and had kids, but that held no appeal for me. Despite my best efforts not to follow in the path of my father, wasn’t that what psych books said we all inevitably do? The last thing I wanted was a kid as fucked up as me, so it was best that procreation be left to guys like Owen, who’d had stellar examples.

  Not liking the path my mood had taken, I left the fire to find Ella. She had to be dressed by now.

  “You decent?” I called at the top of the stairs.

  “Sort of…” She emerged from the bathroom in one of the outfits I assumed Penny had purchased for her. Raw silk pajamas in a blue so pale, so sheer, I couldn’t be sure there was any color at all. What was a certainty was the pain of my erection. The room’s only light spilled from the bathroom door behind Ella. Backlit, she’d gifted her curves to me, and my palms itched from wanting to skim the hourglass of her waist and hips. “I’ve never been so fully dressed but still felt like I’m wearing nothing. This fabric’s incredible.”

  “No kidding…” God, I wanted to touch her, kiss her, bite her—along with a litany of other bad things I had no business even thinking.

  She yawned. “You’ve worn me out. Is it too early for bed?”

  “I suppose not.” I hadn’t even thought about our sleeping situation. In my new role as a gentleman, was I supposed to leave her up here while I took the sofa or a guest room? Where was the fun in that?

  “Good.” She wobbled toward the bed—my bed—tossed back the covers, then made a carefully constructed pillow pile by placing two parallel to the headboard and another vertical. Just when I thought she’d put her head down, she made a long reach for the wall-mounted reading lamp and turned it on. With that done, she burrowed deep, with only the top half of her fresh-scrubbed face exposed. “Mmm…This bed is so soft, I feel like I’m on a cloud.”

  My thoughts exactly…

  Okay, so what did I do now? More than anything, I wanted to slide in beside her, turn off the light, then get right to
work on tackling that list of bad things my cock still craved. But all that would accomplish would be a major backslide for Ella. I needed her to see me as a friend with whom she desperately wanted benefits—not as a sleazeball. Since I’d already played a major creep card by offering her that contract, I had a long way to go in regaining her trust.

  And so I cautiously approached her, leaned in to press a nice, chaste kiss to her forehead, then said, “Good night.”

  I’d made it to the stairs when she said, “Liam?”

  Please, God, beg me into that bed. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for tonight. It was fun.”

  If you want, we could make that fun last a whole lot longer. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. We’ll have to do it again.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Please, beg me to get into bed. “Okay, good. We’ll make it happen.”

  “Cool.” She politely covered her yawn. “Well, good night…”

  “ ‘Night…” Fuck.

  What were the odds that the first time I bring a woman to my most intimate place on the planet, she sleeps in my bed, but doesn’t invite me to join her?

  24

  Ella

  Where are you going? I wanted to call out when Liam trudged down the stairs.

  Come back! Hold me. Chase away the dark. But he just kept walking.

  I hugged his pillow, wishing it smelled like him, but it didn’t. It smelled like fresh-washed linens with a hint of the briny sea. It was a wonderful smell, but it wasn’t him. Nowhere close to his faint scent of citrus and leather and sun.

  More than anything, I craved calling him back, but I resisted. The two of us sleeping apart was for the best. Tonight had shown me that Liam still very much held the power to charm me stupid. For a girl only hours free from her self-imposed grave, this wasn’t a good thing.

  I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep without him, but the muted surf combined with the sumptuous bed put me in a state of almost hypnotic relaxation.

  I woke disoriented, but then became captivated by the dazzling morning view. Endless ocean kissed the sky, making me feel that if they could form a union, so could Liam and I.