“Uh, well . . . both, I guess.”
She chuckled. “Let me see . . . I know this by heart.”
She coughed dramatically and cleared her throat like she was about to launch into the Gettysburg Address.
“Partially restored 1957 Thunderbird with a manual three-speed transmission. Original 312/245 horsepower engine, wire wheels, and a trunk mount antenna. White with the classic black-white interior, it has a soft top and runs as good as it looks.”
“Wow.”
Reaching for the model’s box with the full-color picture on the front, she bent over just enough to give Liam a quick glimpse of her underwear. Where he might have expected to find something as risqué as the rest of her naughty outfit, instead he saw a demure pair of white panties—the full coverage kind—and wondered just what the hell he’d done to earn such ball-busting temptation.
Muttering darkly, he went and grabbed a pair of his sweatpants and tossed them at her head.
“Jesus H. Christ, Rhiann. Put some damn clothes on before I forget who you are.”
The look she gave him was equal parts Virgin Mary, a vampy Marilyn Monroe, and that chick from the diner he favored who always looked at him like he was the day’s special.
“Damn, but you’re bossy,” she sassed. “You’re not my father, Liam.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he ground out.
“Meaning?”
Common sense took a holiday and left the door open on the way out for a testosterone surge that drove him to step over the line.
“Meaning . . . that if you take even one step closer, I’m going to show you what happens to naughty little schoolgirls who flash their panties at a grown man.”
Her look of outrage fueled his desire.
“Excuse me? I did NOT flash my panties at you.”
Did she even realize she was playing with fire?
“Really?” Liam moved in close enough to run his hand up her thigh and under her skirt while they stared at each other; he with an openly lustful expression and her with a sort of blushing naïveté that gripped him by the throat.
Without looking away, he growled, “White. Cotton,” as his hand caressed her sweet ass.
Well, that certainly shut her up because, at his words, she went absolutely still with her eyes the size of golf balls.
He’d be goddamned if he was going to remove his hand or stop what he was doing. It was already too late for that. If she slapped him up the side of the head and told him, ‘No’ . . . well, he’d back off, of course. But right now? Months of wanting converged inside him, conveniently situated in his groin. He. Wanted. Her. Period.
When her mouth opened on a breathy gasp, and he felt a fine shudder skate across her skin, Liam knew he was doomed for all time. At that moment, he needed her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Need. Want. Different sides of the same coin.
“Liam?” she whispered in a small, husky whisper.
When she actually moved closer to him, his brain exploded. Hadn’t he told her not to do that?
“Goddammit, Rhiann,” he groaned and gathered her roughly to him, pressing her against his hard body, his hand possessively gripping her ass.
She didn’t put up any resistance whatsoever when his mouth crashed down on hers. Her taste was the sweetest thing he’d ever known and as she shyly opened to him and kissed back, he was pretty sure that heaven was within his reach for the first and only time in his life.
LIAM’S EYES SHOT OPEN JUST as his dream was getting good. This memory—the one with Rhiann and that fateful night all those years ago—was haunting him full time these days.
Groaning as he rolled over to give his fearsome erection room to break free, he struggled to find his breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why the fuck won’t this need leave him? Why?
Rhiann . . .
He’d been in London for six weeks and basically ran himself ragged every day hoping to keep his mind off her.
Fat lot of good that’d done him when she’d filled every fucking silent moment between the loud ones. The way she smelled. Her beautiful smile. That wicked mouth and all the things she could do with it. And especially her husky laugh—the one that shot straight into his groin. The same groin currently pulsing like a motherfucker.
Sadness and regret grabbed him by the throat and squeezed hard. God, he missed her so damn much.
Throwing back the covers, Liam inhaled deeply as the cool air hit his sweat-dampened skin. This is getting old, he thought. Try as he might to fight the need clawing its way out of him, every night he failed miserably and every morning he woke up drenched, hard, and in need.
Fuck.
Reaching for his cock because what other choice did he have, Liam succumbed to the memory that had driven his dream and let it wash over him.
The minute his mouth had claimed hers, everything changed. What had started as a bad case of horny quickly morphed into something quite different. Rhiann’s lips responding to his and her delicious sweetness had rocked him to his core.
Her soft whimpers as he devoured her with a kiss that would forever be tattooed on his heart had cut through the usual noise in his head. She was his, a fact that blew him away when, after a long, steamy make-out session, he’d taken her to his bed and discovered that sweet Rhiann was a virgin. And what had he done? Taken the gift of her innocence and gorged on it.
He could still hear her cries of wonder as he made love to her with wild abandon. When she came completely undone, as he’d buried his cock inside her, he’d felt a satisfaction that wrecked his brain when her sexy body climaxed in wave after gushing wave of completion.
Remembering how it felt to lose himself inside her, he worked his hard staff and closed his eyes. Rhiann. . . .
She’d cried afterward and clung to him, trembling like a blade of grass caught in a windstorm. He’d cried, too, something that marked him as hers as much as he claimed Rhiann for his own. It was probably the most authentic and unguarded moment of his life.
God. He needed . . . needed . . . needed. Rhiann . . .
Stroking his cock, he shifted restlessly on the big bed in search of a release that just wouldn’t come. Not the way he wanted. The way he needed.
His thoughts drifted and against his will, the memory of sweet Rhiann on her knees sucking his dick with an innocent wildness made him groan.
Liam spread his legs wide and reached for his balls, cupping and massaging them as his hand stroked faster, harder. Remembering what it had felt like to fuck her mouth, he felt his muscles tense from head to toe. More deep, guttural groans rumbled up from his chest.
When droplets of pre-cum started to leak, he swiped his thumb over the fat head of his cock and started stroking faster. Before long, the exquisite tension racking his body became too much.
With his thighs quivering, he dug his heel into the mattress and surged his pelvis upward over and over. The vision of his milaya moya’s eyes looking at him with lustful delight as her pouty lips stretched wide around his girth pushed him over the edge.
Thinking about coming in her mouth, shooting thick ribbons of semen down her throat, gave him the release he so desperately needed.
With a loud grunt, his cock started spurting. With each pulse, his body responded to the waves of physical pleasure washing over him. Every nerve ending in his body shivered as his orgasm chased the tension from his muscles. His mind cleared slowly as the climax subsided.
Finally relaxed, he held onto his cock and suddenly felt like crying. The physical release wasn’t enough. He needed the emotional pleasure that only Rhiann could give.
He was so fucked.
Minutes later, he dragged his body into the huge tile shower, turned on the water, and adjusted the temperature to something just short of boiling. Stepping beneath the stinging spray, he let the hot water wash away all evidence of the shuddering orgasm that left him feeling worse than when he woke up with an insistent hard-on.
What in the hell was he going to do? This madness couldn
’t continue. If he didn’t think he’d get his ass locked up, he’d have called Roman and told the man in blunt, specific terms to do whatever he needed to in order to bring Rhiann to him. Now. Right fucking now. Even if it meant kidnapping her.
Eventually, the mayhem in his thoughts calmed as the water helped ease his torment. He had another few weeks of work to keep him occupied, but after that? He was going to have to confront the demons inside him, decide what to do about the shit show his life in New York had become, and make some changes.
He had nothing left to prove where work was concerned. BPG was a beast all on its own. The company he’d built was a world unto itself and if he had to, Liam knew without a second’s hesitation that he could walk away and not regret it. Not if Rhiann was waiting on the other side of that decision.
Would he give it all up for her? Fuck, yeah. Twice, if he had to because in the end he had nothing, was nothing, without her and he’d kill anyone who got in his way.
“Another couple of weeks, Miss Wilde,” the orthopedist told her when he was finished checking out her fractured arm.
“I heard you telling my office manager that you were going out of town for a while. Are you leaving soon?”
Leaving soon? Yes, indeed, if Rhi had any say about it. I mean, after all, she thought, it’s not like there was any reason to stay in New York.
It was funny how quickly things could change. One minute, she was living her life, working for Passion and chasing her dream of being an indie author when everything ground to a halt.
She hadn’t written anything in weeks—couldn’t—because the cast she was sporting on her forearm made doing anything more than one finger typing on the computer nearly impossible.
Her third book, a straightforward and simple romance tale had published on schedule and been an instant hit with her devoted readers. Thank god for ebooks because without that small sliver of sunshine, she’d be in a dark and troubled place right about now.
Suspended from Passion pending an internal investigation into what happened that day at the studio shoot, Rhiann had not only suffered an injury but was further subjected to even greater indignity when the legal department at BPG had insisted she be drug tested while still in the emergency room.
She had to hand it to Kim. That last? It was the perfect fuck you made all the worse by their so-called investigation sticking its intrusive noses into every area of her life. And not just her business life but her personal one, too.
At first, she’d hidden away in her apartment and sulked. The first few days had been hell. A painful hell that she coped with by eating the painkillers the orthopedist had prescribed. But that got old quick ‘cause she hated being numb and fuzzy.
Juan had come by and seen her once or twice, but it was clear from his shifty, nervous behavior that he was fearful for his job. He’d seemed relieved when she hadn’t pressed for information or asked for details about work. Frankly, she hadn’t given a shit.
Confiding in no one, not even Amy, she wiled away the solitary weeks at home, reading and eating. Eating and reading. Until her clothes started to feel tight and uncomfortable.
Today, when she’d stepped on the scale during intake at the doctor’s office, Rhi had been shocked to see that she’d managed to put on a full ten pounds. Guess that was what happened when all you did was lay around, watching TV and feeling sorry for yourself, stuffing pizza and ice cream down your throat. The only physical activity she got was walking from the sofa to the bathroom and tapping a finger on her Kindle to move pages along.
Then, a couple of days ago, Brynn and Jax appeared out of nowhere and took her in hand. What they discovered duly horrified her big sister. The brightly colored turquoise cast on her arm had shocked the shit out of the newlyweds. So had the disarray of her apartment. There was no real food in the refrigerator—an eyebrow-raising situation for Brynn considering that Rhiann was the one forever going on about eating healthy. Though neither of them said so, Rhi also knew she looked like hell.
Confessing everything in a teary exchange that found Rhiann crying miserably in Brynn’s arms, she told them about the fucked-up situation at work. She did her best to explain through sobbing hiccups just how she ended up injured, suspended, and all alone.
When Brynn mentioned the wedding present and expressed her shock and surprise that Liam had bothered, Rhi’s chin trembled as she fought back a new wave of tears.
“I know. I thought the same thing, but he had it delivered right before I left. I tried to send it back, but he was gone so . . .” She shrugged.
“Gone? Gone where?”
When she explained what she knew, how he’d left for Europe and that Kim had apparently accompanied him to the airport, Jax offered to kill Liam just for the hell of it, which only made her weep even more. When she caught Brynn glaring at her new husband over the ridiculous suggestion, he changed tactics and proposed that he send a couple of his military buddies after Kim to essentially scare the piss out of her.
While the temptation had been there to do just that, she managed to explain why fucking with the ice-cold cunt wasn’t going to help things. When she finally got around to sharing how her apartment might or might not have been broken into and how she’d come to suspect that somehow Kim had been behind the intrusion, all hell broke loose.
In short—they wanted her out of the city. Away from this madness and someplace where she could heal and take some time to think.
It sounded like a good idea, but there was no way she was crawling home in defeat and wouldn’t hear of going back to New Hope with them.
Jax came up with a brilliant solution. Fulfilling one of his bride’s most cherished wishes, they’d honeymooned in the Outer Banks. And not only that, they’d stayed in a house on the beach that Jax had purchased, sight unseen.
The property—a behemoth with six bedrooms, a theater room, a spectacular cook’s kitchen, a pool, and a Jacuzzi, of course, was fully furnished and completely outfitted—just waiting for their return or in this case, an extended stay by a family member.
Seriously, she was going to like having a brother-in-law.
So when the doctor asked if she was leaving soon, she thought of her packed bags and how Jax, again being the most awesome guy, arranged to fly her on an air charter from New York and get her safely to Nags Head. Placing the keys to the house in her hand along with another set for the SUV she’d find parked in the driveway, he’d told her not to worry about anything. That he and Brynn would make sure she got the time she needed to get her shit together.
Turning to the doctor, she said, “Yeah, actually. I’m leaving tomorrow, but I don’t have a clear date set for my return. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Not at all,” he told her with a smile. “Your arm is healing nicely and as I said, that cast can come off in two weeks. On your way out, tell the girls out front where you’re going and they’ll hook you up with a qualified orthopedist who can take it from here. They’ll even set up your first visit and send along the x-rays. How’s that sound?”
And so, her job all but in the shitter and with a heavy heart—Rhiann wiped away weeks of tears and picked herself up.
Fuck BPG.
Fuck Kim Walsh.
And most importantly, fuck Liam Ashforth. This was entirely his fault.
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU mean, she’s been suspended?” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Suspended for what, exactly? Doing her job brilliantly and running her team like a professional?”
Liam was furious. Kick the dog, smash a glass, punch a few faces—furious.
It was the last week in January and though he’d been scheduled to remain overseas until after the first of February to tie up some last-minute work things, he’d thrown in the towel and come home because . . . well, because he knew that staying away wasn’t the answer. It was time to make some changes.
Showing up at BPG unannounced and before anyone expected to see him had thrown his many minions into a tizzy. Striding through the ma
in lobby on his way to the executive elevator, he hadn’t bothered with more than a token nod in acknowledgment to any of the greetings directed at him. All he wanted to do was check in with his secretary then go to his office and shut the door.
Why he hadn’t warned anyone of his arrival was pure oversight edged with distraction on his part. When he burst through the glass doors leading to his executive suite, Mrs. Gardner shot from her desk chair with a look of absolute astonishment.
“Mr. Ashforth! You’re back.”
Uh-huh. Back, locked, and loaded. Things were about to get real, and he needed to know who was actually on his team and who was headed for the door.
“That I am, Marjorie. Good to see you.”
They’d worked closely together, longer even than he and Roman, and in all that time, he’d pretty much called her Gardner, rarely using her given name. She liked it that way and even said so several times. Once, they’d even laughed about how appropriate it was that his office guard dog, as she called herself, was actually named Gardner.
But today? Today, he was re-establishing clear-cut and straightforward lines as to who was included in his inner circle.
When he greeted her by name and added a polite comment—something he didn’t normally do—she was savvy enough to know immediately that something had changed.
Marjorie Gardner was also one smart cookie, snapping to attention and immediately moving into busy-as-usual mode. The woman was a treasure, and Liam made a mental note to check out what he paid her because whatever it was—it wasn’t enough.
An hour later, he’d finished prioritizing the mass of work requiring his attention before turning to other things.
First, he had to touch base with Roman. Besides the weekly email or text check-in they did with each other, he hadn’t spoken directly to him since their last conversation at the airport.
With that out of the way, and while he waited to hear back, Liam took a couple of deep breaths to compose himself before reaching for the phone on his desk. The company hadn’t imploded during his absence, and as far as he could tell, it was business as usual so there really wasn’t any reason to drag his feet about contacting Rhiann.
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