Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality (9 page)

counter behind your back.”

“What?”

“Do it, Amy. Let me look at you.”

The inherent shyness life has taught me freezes me, and Liam seems

to know immediately, but he is not discouraged. He presses my hands and

molds them to the counter behind me with his own. “Leave them there.”

I don’t speak. I am so nervous and aroused. He brushes his lips over

mine. “Say ‘yes’, Amy.”

“Yes,” I whisper, and he smiles.

“You really are so damn sexy.”

“I don’t feel sexy right now.”

“Then what do you feel?”

“Out of my league.” And it is a relief to actually say what I really feel.

“If anyone is out of their league, baby, it’s me. You’re an angel and

I’m…not.” He glances up at the ceiling, as if he’s struggling with something,

before his stormy gaze returns to mine. “Maybe that’s the appeal for both

of us. We’re different, dark and light. Right and wrong.

Now, don’t move or I’ll show you just how not an angel I am.”

The threat is darkly erotic, arousing, but it does not stop me from

seeing pain and self-loathing deep beneath his surface that I relate to far

too well. I want to know what made him, what drives him, what haunts him

in the night, and I don’t care what he says. Something haunts him. And I

want to be the angel he sees me as, when I know that I left that “me” in the

past.

I will never be an angel to anyone but him, and that will be a

one-night façade. “I won’t move my hands, Liam. Not if you don’t want me

to.”

I watch his eyes dilate, darken, his jaw tightening into a hard line, and

this is not the reaction I had hoped for. His hands move from mine to rest

on my shoulders. “Now I’m going to fuck you, Amy.” There is a new

gruffness to his tone, and I almost feel as if he’s trying to shock me, to

prove that I’m the angel, and he is not. But then he drags his fingers

downward, trailing over my breasts to caress my nipples. His touch is light,

teasingly gentle, and when it is gone, I gasp with the deep ache in my sex,

where I want him to be. “I don’t like the way you won’t let me touch you.”

“You can touch me.” He unzips his pants and shoves them down, his

hard cock jutting forward, thickly veined, and reaches in his pocket and

pulls out his wallet. “Later.”

I only have tonight.
I only
have tonight. “Promise me,” I insist, and for

reasons I do not try to understand, I need his agreement. “I need you to

promise me, Liam.” And my voice is raspy, filled with emotion that reaches

beyond touching him. I want more and I don’t even know what “more” is.

He sets his wallet on the counter, a wrapped condom now in his

hand, and presses his palms to my knees. “I promise, Amy.” He leans in and

kisses me, his mouth lingering on mine a moment, as if he is savoring me,

and I feel the connection to this man in some deep part of my soul. I can’t

explain it. Maybe I just need to create this in my mind to survive the day or

justify what I am doing. But it is right for me now. He is right for me now.

Slowly, he leans back, and it is as if a simmering fire sparks back into

life. His gaze holds mine as he tears open the condom and discards the

wrapper. My heart thunders in my ears and my sex aches with the

emptiness in me that only he can fill. He looks down to roll the condom on,

and I cannot help but think about how prepared he is, how normal this is

for him. I do not have time for my mind to go crazy. He is quick and in

seconds his mouth is back on mine, and each delicious swipe of his tongue

seduces me more. He is a drug that delivers passion and escape.

He tears his mouth away, watching me as he curves a hand under my

backside and lifts me. His gaze lowers, raking over my breasts, heating my

skin, and then his free hand wraps his cock and he slides it along the

sensitive lips of my sex, back and forth, until I question how urgent he truly

is, and I am panting with anticipation.

“Please, Liam,” I whisper, far less shy now that I am desperate to feel

him inside me.

The instant I issue the plea, he reacts as if that was what he was

waiting for. He presses inside me and drives deep, filling me, stretching me,

and now both of his hands cup my backside, arching my hips just how he

wants them. He sinks in, burying himself to the deepest part of my body,

and pleasure slides over his features. “Oh yeah, baby. You feel like heaven.”

He lowers his head and licks one of my nipples, then suckles, and the

sensation spirals through me, straight to my lower belly. My sex clenches

around him, and my hips arch.

“Liam,” I pant, needing what he still hasn’t given me, needing him to

move.

His lips taste mine. “Say my name again.”

“Liam,” I whisper, and I wonder why this appeals to him. What it

means or if it means anything at all.

“What do you want?” he asks, and his voice is gravelly, laden with

desire. Desire for me.

“You know what I want.”

“Tell me.” He reaches between us and strokes my clit.

“You know what I want.” My voice is louder now, laced with the

urgency building inside me, and I wrap my legs around his hips, touching

him the only way I can touch him.

“Say it, Amy. It’s just you and me. Raw and honest. Give it to me.”

Honest.
That freedom is everything to me. “Fuck me. I want you to

fuck me.”

A look of pure male satisfaction rolls over his face, and he slides his

hands around my back. “Hold on to my neck,” he commands. The instant I

comply, he lifts me, melding my body to his, and he starts to pump, pulling

me down on top of him at the same time. Pleasure nearly overwhelms me

as each thrust of his cock sends shock waves of pleasure through my body. I

do not know if I am actually on the counter or he’s just using it to brace our

bodies, or his knees, I think, but I don’t care. I bury my head in his chest,

and cling to him, the sound of his heavy breathing like silk stroking my

nerve endings. I can feel his urgency, his need, and I am there with him,

pushing into him, trying to meet him, take him, find that sweet spot that

we both want.

And it’s there, it’s there, and the sexy near growl that escapes his lips

tells me it’s there for him, too. He grinds me against him, and my sex

clenches around his cock, and I am shaking, or he is shaking. Maybe we

both are. It’s a haze of pleasure rushing through my body, and I am

clutching him and he me, and I feel the counter beneath me, his arms

around my back.

“That’s what you call fast,” he murmurs against my neck, kissing it

and my ear before leaning back to search my face. “What are you doing to

me, woman? I’m never…” He scrubs his jaw, seeming almost rattled, before

his hands go to the counter at my hips. “Next time won’t be like that. Slow,

baby. Nice and slow.”

Next time.
I am pleased with these words and stunned at the idea

that I have affected this man on a level beyond his normal encounters. I

surprise myself by smiling. “I didn’t even get to examine the many

attributes of Pi.”

His lips curve. “Baby, you can examine it, lick it, do whatever you

want to do to it and me, after I feed you. I promised. I meant it.”

Lick it. Yes. Please. Promise. I am not used to promises. I will take this

one and put it to good use. He pulls out of me and I gasp. “Warning,

please.”

He laughs, a gentle lion’s laugh, deep and sensual. I love that laugh.

“We have to get you dressed before someone shows up at the door.” He

sets me on the ground and eyes the condom and motions to the other

room. “I’ll be right back.” He heads out of the kitchen, probably to the

bathroom, and I suddenly realize I don’t even have basics like toilet paper.

Now this is truly embarrassing. I’ll have to find a twenty-four-hour store

and get some basic stuff. That’s all there is to it.

I wiggle my skirt down my hips, and snatch up his shirt, but I don’t

put it on. Liam will need it to answer the door. His words play in my mind.

Be inside you now. I have to.
I smile to myself at the idea of making a man

like Liam “have” to do anything, and I hunt down my panties, bra, and

blouse—which appears to be missing a middle button. Nothing like a gaping

front to show off your bra. Heading to the living room, I can hear Liam

talking to someone on the phone from the bedroom, telling them how to

find the entrance to the building. Knowing we will have company soon, I

quickly shove my clothes into my carry-on bag and pull out the airport

t-shirt I bought before leaving New York.

“The bellman is coming up the elevator now,” Liam says, rounding

the doorway just as I pull the t-shirt into place. Stopping dead in his tracks,

his expression turns suddenly stormy and intense.

Feeling more than a little awkward at his reaction, I hold up his shirt.

“I thought you might need this and I tore the button off of my blouse.”

He stalks forward and stops directly in front of me. “I have never

hated an ‘I love New York’ t-shirt more than the one you have on.”

His voice is a tightly pulled cord. He’s angry and I’m baffled. “You

hate ‘I love New York’ shirts?”

“I hate what it says about your situation.” A knock sounds on the

door, but he doesn’t move. Silence ticks between us and I think he has to

be able to hear the thunder of my heart.

Another knock and he turns away, pulling his shirt over his head as

he stomps toward the door.

I wet my dry lips and stare down at the shirt, and I feel like an ice pick

is chipping away at my nerve endings. I hate what this shirt says about my

life, too. And I hate that Liam knows what it says about my life. I hate it

because it means I have to make tonight our only night. I knew that

already, but I also know a part of me was slipping into a fantasyland where I

could allow Liam to be my Prince Charming for just a little bit longer. I’m

back now, though. I’m back in reality and no matter what happens tonight,

I won’t forget that it translates to one thing and one thing only. Alone.

Chapter Seven

Liam has done his best to convert my apartment into his penthouse

suite for me.

I wait by what is supposed to be my new kitchen table where two

pizzas fresh from the hotel kitchen wait on us, and listen as Liam sees two

hotel staff members out the front door, no doubt tipping them well. In all

of fifteen minutes since their arrival I have everything I would have had,

had I been in Liam’s room: bedding and pillows, as well as enough paper

products, plastic utensils, kitchen items, and basic hygiene products to last

me days. The list goes on, with a hair dryer, hotel slippers, and a robe, and

my kitchen is stocked with canned sodas and a coffee pot with supplies,

including cups. I am truly doubting my decision to stay here rather than go

to his room, and not just because he’s likely spent a pretty penny on me.

Because I am surely the talk of the hotel now and Liam is exposed by his

connection to me.

Dragging a hand through his thick, dark hair, looking tired but

incredibly sexy, Liam walks back into the room. “The pizza smells good.”

“Yes,” I agree, but my mind is elsewhere and I hold my hands out to

indicate the apartment. “Liam, this, all of this you did, is too much.”

“It isn’t even close to too much.”

“It had to have cost you a small fortune.”

“I have a fortune, Amy.” And he sounds almost…bitter? About being

rich? He grabs the pizza boxes that are stacked with a couple of sodas and

plasticware, and motions to the bedroom.

“Let’s go eat on the bed.”

Dinner in bed with the sexiest man I’ve ever known. I don’t have it in

me to complain.

“Yes. Okay, but thank you for everything. Thank you so very much.”

“It’s not your thanks I want.”

“Then what do you want?” And I don’t know why, but I hold my

breath, waiting for his answer.

He tilts his head and studies me a moment. “For you to share dinner

in bed with me.”

I let the air trickle from my lips. It is the perfect answer, even if I

sense it wasn’t what he really wanted to say. “I’d like that.”

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and quickly change into some

shorts I purchased when I bought my t-shirt, and while doing so, I begin to

worry dinner is an opening for Liam to drill me with questions. But I don’t

let myself linger in the bathroom, where I’m dodging the mirror. I won’t like

what I see in it.

Reassuring myself that I’m good at dodging what I don’t want known,

I join Liam on the bed. With my legs curled to my side, and the pizza boxes

on the mattress between us, I dig into a slice of pizza with a hunger, not for

food, but for something no one can take from me. My love of cheese pizza

is like every little personal part of me that no name or location change can

strip away.

“Why don’t I tell you about your neighborhood?” Liam suggests,

dusting off his hands, after digging into his food with a heartiness that

beats mine by double.

“You know it well enough to tell me about it?”

“Actually, yes. I consulted on a building project not far from here a