Changing Roles

by Melanie Moreland

  Dinner was long and too loud. Alcohol was flowing freely, and it seemed to me the noise level escalated as the hours dragged by. To escape the clamor, we walked a lot, looking at the auction pieces, slipping outside often to the private balcony for a quiet breath of fresh air—at least as fresh as one could get in LA.

  After dinner, I took total advantage and had Shelby dance with me repeatedly. We moved together well—as if we’d been dancing together our entire lives. I enjoyed holding her close and feeling her soft skin under my hand as we swayed. It took everything I had not to nuzzle her shoulder as I held her. I couldn’t, however, stop my fingers from drawing gentle circles on the small of her back. Once Everett and Cassidy departed, I monopolized Shelby completely, maybe playing up the nervous part on my end so she stayed close. I had no shame, not when it came to my Shelby.

  As the evening progressed, I thought Shelby looked pale. Twice when we were dancing, she seemed to stumble, and I caught her against my chest, looking at her with a frown.

  “All right there, Shelby?”

  She insisted she was fine, but I was getting worried she wasn’t feeling well.

  Finally, I was called on to give my speech, hand out the award I’d been asked to present, and once that was over, I made my way back to the table amid the applause. I grew concerned as I drew closer and saw Shelby. She looked as if she were in pain, but still, she smiled as I sat beside her, wrapping her hands around mine. We sat through the rest of the speeches and awards, and as the band started to play, I bent close to her. “Dance?”

  “Can we sit this one out?”

  “Sure.” I glanced around the table. I was tired of the chatter around us. “Walk?”

  She hesitated, then nodded, and we stood. I scowled as I saw her use a hand to steady herself before she joined me. We began to make our way across the floor, and I made the decision maybe it was time to go home when I saw a grimace pass over her face. I let go of her hand and wrapped my arm around her waist, surprised when I felt how heavily she leaned into my side. Something was definitely wrong. Gently, I steered us toward the front of the building, intending to get her away from the noise and find out what was wrong.

  Shelby grimaced again, and then I noticed how gingerly she was walking. Worried, I tightened my arm around her waist and pulled her into the nearest alcove, gently pushing her down on the small bench against the wall. Before she could protest, I kneeled and lifted up one of her feet to rest on my knee, seeing for the first time just how high the heels were on the shoes she was wearing and how badly they were damaging her feet. I was horrified when I pulled my hand away from her heel and saw blood.

  I looked at her in dismay. “Shelby, you’re bleeding. Your shoes are digging into your skin! Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I know,” she said. “They’re the wrong size. But it’s almost over. I can take them off soon.”

  “Why did you wear them if they didn’t fit?”

  “Lily brought a few pair for me to try on—these looked best with the dress. Otherwise it would have been too long. I must have put the wrong-sized pair in the box after I tried them on, and it was too late to call Lily by the time I realized my mistake when I was getting ready.”

  “You should have worn different ones.” I traced my fingers over the swollen flesh, and I knew she must have blisters under all the intricate woven leather. The skin that was visible was rubbed raw. I could only imagine what the back of her heel looked like.

  “I didn’t have another pair that was suitable—the dress would have been ruined.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the dress,” I muttered and started to undo the buckle on the shoe.

  Shelby reached forward, covering my hand. “You can’t take them off! I won’t get them back on!”

  “I don’t plan on you doing that,” I growled as I pushed her hand away, and as carefully as I could, pulled the shoes off both feet, hissing when I saw the torn flesh and blood. Shelby let out a painful sound as I set her feet on the carpet. “Don’t move,” I instructed her.

  I grabbed my cell phone and called for the car to come immediately to the far side of the front door. I was beyond done with the event, and now I had the perfect excuse; I needed to get Shelby home. I sat beside her, removed my shoes, pulled off my socks, and shoved my bare feet back into the leather. I kneeled in front of Shelby again and gently drew my socks over her injured feet, cursing at the small whimpers that escaped her tightly clenched lips. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it would at least cover her feet until we got home. I knew blisters were easily infected. Picking up the offensive shoes, I chucked them into the silver rubbish can beside her.

  “Liam! Those were expensive! You can’t throw them out.”

  “Can. And did. You aren’t wearing them again.”

  “But Lily—”

  I pressed forward, cupping the back of her head in my hand and holding her face close. “Listen to me, Shelby. I don’t give a bloody fuck about the shoes, the dress, Lily, or anything else right now but you. Understand?”

  Her eyes were wide. “Okay.”

  My phone buzzed, indicating the car was out front. I stood and held out my hand. “Can you walk?”

  “Yes.” Shelby took my hand and stood, immediately gasping when her weight rested on her feet.

  “Sod it.” Leaning down, I scooped her into my arms. I didn’t want her in any more pain.

  “You can’t carry me out of here! People will see!”

  I shook my head. So bloody stubborn.

  “Can. And will. I don’t care who sees. Now, for God’s sake, Beaker, relax and stop struggling.” I paused. “Keep your head low,” I warned.

  Shelby sighed in resignation and buried her head into my shoulder, her body resting against me, molding to mine perfectly, just the way I knew she would. Swiftly, I crossed the foyer, my own head lowered, not making eye contact with anyone. I drew in a deep breath and walked out the double doors, hurrying to the waiting car and ignoring the constant flash of cameras around us. Luckily, we were leaving early enough that they weren’t prepared, and the shouting was minimal. All they saw was two people leaving—neither of our faces was recognizable.

  The driver had the door open, and I slid into the back, keeping Shelby tight against me. “Go now,” I instructed.

  When the car moved forward, I breathed a sigh of relief, but I didn’t relax my hold on Shelby. I nuzzled her fragrant hair, and she sighed against my chest. For a few moments, the car was silent. Shelby didn’t move, and I didn’t let her go. She felt right nestled in my arms. As if she belonged there.

  Finally, she tilted her head back, and our eyes met. Hers were wide and wary as they met mine. The air around us grew heated and pulsated with emotion.

  “Thank you,” she breathed.

  My voice was pitched low. “Why are you fighting this, Shelby? Fighting us? I know you feel this—how right this is for both of us.”

  She hesitated. “I’m scared.”

  “So am I. But I want this—I want you beside me in all things. I want to look after you the way you do for me. I’m willing to take the risk.”

  “I’m older than you.”

  I traced her soft cheek with my index finger. I threw her own words back at her. “Barely five years, Shelby—you’re hardly cradle snatching. Five years is nothing. It means nothing.”

  “I’m still married. It could be a problem for you.”

  “Not by choice. We’ll figure it out. We can figure anything out as long as it’s what you want. Everett has people looking for your ex—the fucker is hiding like the cowardly, thieving wanker he is. If we don’t locate him, you can get divorced without him present. It will happen.”

  “Your reputation…”

  “Fuck that. I don’t care.”

  “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  “What if it does?”

  “The press and your life…”

  I pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “We’ll handle it together, She
lby. If you let me, I want to be your partner—in everything. Stop throwing up roadblocks. Let me try. Give me a chance. Give us a chance.” I met her eyes. “Let me in. Tell me you feel something.”

  Her voice was low and shaking with emotion when she answered. “I do, Liam. So much, it frightens me.”

  “It almost killed me to see you walk away from me to go out with Douglas,” I confessed. “I don’t want you to go out with anyone but me.”

  “I didn’t want to go,” she said. “I was confused, and I had all these feelings I didn’t think I should have. Then when he asked, I thought I had to try to move past whatever it was, but…” She sighed. “All I could think of—all night—was you. The only place I wanted to be was with you.” Her eyes were intense. “It’s always you, Liam.”

  Our faces were close. I could feel her breath washing over me as we stared at each other. My hands tightened on her, bringing her even closer against me. “Try, then. Please,” I begged.

  “I work for you—I’m your housekeeper.”

  “Is that your last argument?”

  “Um, yes?”

  Her lips were almost touching mine. “Fine. You’re fired,” I murmured.

  “Oh,” she breathed.

  And then I was kissing her.

  But this time, she didn’t push me away.

  13

  Liam

  Our mouths were on each other’s the entire ride home. I couldn’t get enough of her. Her lips were warm and pliant, her tongue like velvet, and her taste, perfect. Sweet and uniquely Shelby. I wanted to swallow the breath she shared with me and hold it in my lungs forever. I never wanted to be without the feel of her mouth moving beneath mine again. Her quiet whimpers and murmurs only made me hold her closer, kiss her deeper, and want her more.

  When the car stopped, I regretfully pulled back, but I didn’t let her leave my arms. I climbed out of the limo and walked into the house, cradling her. I had her tucked tight against my chest, her arms wrapped around my neck, only letting go long enough to unlock the door and disable the alarm. I carried her to my room, setting her on the vanity in the bathroom. I stood in front of her, my hands cupping her face as I kissed her again.

  Our lips had been apart far too long.

  “I have to look at your feet,” I whispered against her mouth.

  “Don’t stop.”

  “Shelby. Let me take care of you.”

  She sighed in frustration, and I leered. “Addicted already?”

  She giggled as I dropped a small kiss on the end of her nose. Then I eased off the socks I had covered her feet with earlier, grimacing at the blisters I saw all over her swollen flesh. Some had already ruptured and bled, while others were still forming and looked painful.

  Fuck, they all looked bloody painful.

  I filled the sink beside her with warm water, planning on soaking her feet and then bandaging them.

  “The dress.” She protested.

  I groaned. I didn’t care about the bloody dress. But I knew she did. “Take it off, then.”

  “Right here?”

  “Shelby, I’ve seen you in a bathing suit. I think I can handle your underwear.”

  “Um—”

  Chuckling, I shrugged out of my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt, yanking it off, leaving me in my undershirt. “You can put this on.” I wrapped my arm around her. “Come on, I’ll help you.” Gently, I set her on the floor, my eyes following her hand as she pulled down the hidden zipper on her dress. The deep-red gown pooled at her feet, and I swallowed when I saw what was hiding underneath the satin.

  Her bathing suit, I could handle.

  This, I wasn’t sure about.

  Red. Lacy. Strapless.

  A bustier.

  My gaze drifted downward.

  Tiny scraps of fabric tied at her hips in the same shade of red, leaving a tantalizing strip of soft flesh between the bustier and her underwear. A strip I wanted to lick.

  And the underwear…tiny straps with bows that led to…

  I shut my eyes as the room became far too small and far too hot. All the blood in my body was now pooled in one place.

  My hard, aching cock.

  Which was at that very moment trying to punch its way out of my pants to get to that red lace.

  Bugger. Shit. Damn.

  I gulped in air. Tried to think of anything else. Puppies. Worms. Everett in his underwear. Anything but the warm, red-lace-wearing woman in front of me.

  Who was in pain and needed me to look after her.

  Not lift her back onto the counter and fuck her until she screamed my name.

  At least once.

  Three or four times, preferably.

  Her voice broke through my thoughts. “Liam?”

  I blinked at her and handed her my shirt. I needed to rein myself in. “Put this on, Shelby, please.”

  With downcast eyes, she did as I asked. I realized she thought I wanted her to cover up for a different reason than I needed her to cover up. I cupped her cheek. “Hey.”

  Her hesitant gaze met mine. I covered her mouth with my lips, yanking her close. I pulled her hips against mine so she knew how she was affecting me. Her eyes flew open, meeting mine that were already staring at her—trying to convey a hard message. I smiled against her lips. “Just for now, Beaker. Or your feet won’t be the only thing that’s sore.”

  I set her back on the counter, keeping my eyes averted. She hissed in pain as I placed her feet in the warm water. I grimaced in understanding. “Sorry. Now, where can I find bandages?”

  “My bathroom has a first aid kit. Left cupboard by the vanity.”

  “Okay, stay here.”

  “Where else am I gonna go?”

  I hesitated. “I’m not gonna have to touch…other things to get to the kit thing, am I?”

  She smirked. “Other things, Liam?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Um…your girl…things, Shelby?”

  “No, you’re quite safe.” She winked. “Just make sure you open the left cupboard. Not the right.”

  “Right.”

  “No, left.”

  “Bloody hell, don’t confuse me! I don’t have a lot of blood in that particular head right now!”

  Her amusement followed me down the hall.

  It was music to my ears.

  SHELBY

  I watched him leave, unable to believe what was happening. His reaction to me. Mine to him.

  The entire evening had been torture. Liam had looked devastatingly handsome as he’d waited for me at the bottom of the stairs, and he’d seemed anxious all night, refusing to let go of my hand. Every chance he got, he wanted to walk or dance with me. I didn’t have the heart to tell him how sore my feet were. When I realized I had kept the wrong shoe size but had to wear them anyway, I knew I would end up with some nasty blisters, but I hadn’t expected how painful it would be. My feet must have swollen as well because the leather was digging in everywhere, and I knew the heels were rubbed raw. Every step felt like my feet were on fire.

  When he saw what happened, his reaction was unexpected. I had never seen that “take-charge” side of Liam. My shoes were discarded without a thought, and he covered the sore flesh with his own socks, ignoring my protests. When he lifted me into his arms, I gave up. His hold was firm, his expression fierce in its protectiveness as he instructed me to keep my head down. Once in the car, he didn’t lessen his hold, and when I finally looked at him, what I saw in his eyes made my heart race.

  Open adoration and pleading. There was nothing but want and love in his gaze. No one had ever looked at me that way.

  Liam’s quiet, honest words had broken through my fast crumbling walls.

  His warm embrace promised shelter, love.

  All the things I felt were issues, he dismissed. What I saw as insurmountable, he saw as things we would work through—together.

  His insistence of how right we were made me understand how deeply he did care.

  When his lips found mine, firm, war
m, and possessive, I surrendered. I knew in that moment, I wanted this. I wanted him—I wanted it all. Forever.

  I was home.

  Liam was my home.

  His arms were my safe haven.

  And I never wanted to be without them or him ever again.

  I was anxious for him to come back. I wanted more of his touch. His care. His kisses. I wanted him to make me laugh again. No one made me laugh the way Liam did. I loved his way of looking at the world. He wasn’t jaded and bitter the way many people in Hollywood were. He was sunny and warm.

  He was Liam.

  I heard his hurried footsteps and met his anxious eyes as he barreled into the bathroom.

  “Good. You stayed put.”

  “Not much choice, Oscar.”

  “Bloody feet aside, Beaker, can I say you looking smashing in my shirt sitting on my bathroom counter?”

  I smiled at the sincere tone of his voice. He stared at me, his feelings no longer hidden. Desire, blatant and hot, poured from his expression. It warmed me all over.

  “Yes.”

  He cleared his throat. “All right. Let’s get you fixed up.”

  LIAM

  I finished wrapping her feet and sat back. It wasn’t the best job, but I had smothered them in antibiotic ointment, and they were covered. “There.”

  “Thank you.”

  I stood with my arms leaning on the counter, caging her in. “No more high heels. I don’t give a bloody fuck what Lily says looks good.”

  “She won’t be happy.”

  “I’ll handle her.”

  “They’ll heal. It was my fault—”

  I placed my finger on her lips. “No more. You hate high heels, and I can’t stand to see you in pain.”

  Our eyes locked, apologetic blue meeting firm green. She nodded in silent agreement. I pressed my finger against her mouth harder, and her lips parted, the warm breath flowing over my skin. I dropped my hand to her waist and pulled her forward. “Now, where were we before your feet got in the way?”