by Emerson Rose
She tilts her head to the side, and that tiny line that I’m beginning to favor appears between her eyes. She’s thinking. Amira never thinks. She just talks with no filter. Shit just flies out of her mouth, and she doesn’t care who she hurts with her words.
“I know it’s insane. I never wanted to be married. I didn’t even want a long-term relationship. I was a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. And now, ironically, I’m stuck in a marriage with a woman I can’t stand when I find someone I want to start a relationship with.”
She blinks like a bright light has been shone into her eyes.
“And the baby?”
I sigh and push my hands deep into my pockets.
“Amira is convinced if we have a baby it will get her dad off her back. She says it will look like we really tried, and she doesn’t think he would turn his back on her if she gives him a grandbaby.”
She raises her eyebrows high, and I know what she’s thinking.
“I know it’s a terrible reason to bring a child into the world. At first, I was going to just let her suffer. After all she’s done to me, I thought, why not, ya know?”
“But you’re not.” She shakes her head back and forth.
“No. I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I know how it is to have a piece of shit for a father. She’s only a product of her environment. It’s not her fault there were no limits or discipline when she was being raised. Don’t get me wrong. She’s not a good person. I mean, she’s rotten to the core with no morals or values, but it’s his fault. If I abandon her and leave her penniless, I’m no better than he is.”
Two tears spring from her glassy eyes and race down her cheeks. She swipes them away as if she’s embarrassed.
“You’re a good man, Liam Wild. Much better than any I’ve ever known.”
“No I’m not. Even though it’s a terrible idea, I still want to have a baby. It’s the only way I can get rid of her.”
“I’m not clear on how that’s going to work. I mean, having a baby ties you together forever, and if she’s as bad as you say she is, won’t she be a horrible mother?”
“Amira wouldn’t last through one dirty diaper change with a baby. I’m fully aware that the child will end up with me. It’s what I want. Her father secretly agreed to let us divorce after the baby is born. All he wants is to punish Amira and force her home to Nigeria and into the arms of some proper African dignitary. He can’t stand his daughter’s blatant insolence. She’s an embarrassment, a failure, and that man doesn’t fail at anything.”
“I thought you loved your life before Amira. Don’t you want to go back to being a playboy?”
I sit back down across from her and lean back in my chair, mirroring her position.
“I want something different now.”
She looks away, fidgeting in her chair. I suspect she knows she is the reason I’ve started wanting something different. She’s the reason I’ve started dreaming of children and family and settling down. That kind of life was never supposed to be part of my future. My parents weren’t exactly great role models, and I loved my lifestyle until this mess with Amira. I never expected to want the things Lourdes makes me want. I hardly know her, but without even trying, she’s opened up a world of possibilities and given me hope for a different kind of future.
“Will you have our baby, Lourdes? I need you to. Please, I don’t want anyone else carrying my child.”
She closes her eyes tight, and I watch her wring her hands together in her lap. She’s going to say no. I can’t let her say no. If she leaves tonight knowing all that she knows and I haven’t convinced her, it’s over.
“Liam, this situation is just so volatile. So many things could happen. I just feel like it’s a bad idea. What if Amira’s father helps her take the baby away to Nigeria? What if she uses the baby as leverage to keep you? What if you change your mind and want to tour after all, and the baby’s left with a nanny all the time? I just can’t . . .”
She covers her face with her hands and tips her head back. I stand and push my chair away from me and kneel in front of her. She lifts her hands, still shielding her eyes, and lowers her chin until she is looking directly at me. I want to open her legs and press against her, but I don’t. Instead, I fix her with a look that I’ve been told could convince a starving man to give up his sandwich.
“I promise none of those things will happen. I’ll get the best lawyer money can buy to put all of your concerns to rest if you will do this. I’m going to have custody of the child. Amira’s going to run off with the first guy who shows her any attention, and you and I can . . .”
Her hands are on her cheeks now. Her beautiful lips are parted, her breath is shallow, and I can see her heart rate quicken when an artery in her neck pulses faster.
Her voice is a whisper.
“You and I can what?”
I have to lean back on my heels to put distance between us, because I need her like a drug addict needs a hit. Everything about her screams take me, but I can’t.
“You can be mine.”
Her tongue briefly slips out to dampen her dry lips before she pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth. I lean forward, unable to hold back a second more. I have to taste her. I need to touch her.
There’s a knock at the door and I freeze. We are nose to nose, and Lourdes is gripping the arms of her chair, panting tiny puffs of breath against my lips.
“You should get that,” she whispers, and I nod and stand. When I’ve taken two steps toward the door, the knock comes again.
“I’m coming. Keep your fucking pants on.” I open the door and it’s Kit. He breezes past me without so much as an invitation.
“I should say the same to you, Chachi. What are you doing down here, Lovey? We came to have the dancing and drinking kind of fun, not the canoodling office desk pounding kind. Let’s go.” He pulls her up out of her chair and starts to drag her out of my office with his nose stuck up in the air. I grab her hand, and her body jerks to a stop between us.
“Liam, let her go have fun.”
Lourdes is looking back and forth between Kit and me. She’s torn, but Kit is right. They should have fun. I let go of her hand.
“Go have a good time. Start a tab, Kit. It’s all on me. I have to get back up there anyway,” I say, looking at my feet and shooing them out the door with both hands. I hear her heels clicking away with Kit, and when I know she’s out of my reach, I lift my eyes and watch her perfect backside climb the steps back into the club. Jealousy surges through me when I close the door. Jealousy. Now that’s a new one. In fact, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever felt jealous of a man for having a woman that I wanted. Not that I have anything to worry about—she’s not exactly Kit’s type. But there are a lot of men out there tonight whose roaming eyes will be all over her in that fucking pink dress. I think I hate that pink dress.
Chapter 16
Lourdes
I’ve had three martinis, and I don’t drink. Finding out about Liam’s life freaked me out, so the first drink was to calm my nerves. The second one was from Kit because he wants me to dance. And number three was sent to me anonymously from someone at the bar. So now I’m on the dance floor, smashed between Kit and some hot gay guy, being bounced back and forth like the guys on SNL in the What is Love skit. If I could get out of this crotch Ping-Pong game, I would, but they seem to have me pinned—or maybe I’m too drunk to figure out how to get away. My hair is ruined, and I think I’ve effectively sweat most of my makeup off, but I’m still having fun despite being manhandled by these dorks.
The beat slows, and Kit takes mercy on me and spins me away from his new friend. The lights are all turned off except for purple and red fluorescent beams that slice through the dance floor. One second I’m holding onto Kit’s shoulders while trying to keep my balance, and the next, I’m being lifted off my feet from behind, watching Kit smile as I’m carried away.
For a split second, I panic until I smell Lia
m’s unique scent. He smells exactly like a man should smell, clean, minty and earthy all mixed together. When we reach the edge of the dance floor, he sets me on my aching feet facing the DJ booth. He guides me forward up the stairs with his hands on my hips.
When we are in the booth, he helps me to a chair that I’m positive wasn’t here earlier. I’m sitting, and he’s squatting in front of me, removing my shoes without ever looking at me. I’m a little concerned but still pretty blitzed, so I relax in the comfortable chair and watch him do his thing. He stands my shoes neatly next to the chair and produces a bottle of water—from where, I can’t be sure. I’m supposed to drink, I guess, but I’m already sloshy, so I push it away and shake my head with a pout. He looks at me sternly with one brow lifted, and I huff and take the water. I should be able to decide if I want water, shouldn’t I?
When I’ve slugged half the bottle—I was thirsty after all—I hand it back to a very satisfied Liam. We haven’t spoken a word. It’s hard to hear with the music so loud. He holds up a finger indicating that I should wait a minute. I nod and watch with interest as he stands and turns his back on me to do something to the music. I slouch down in the chair and drape my arms over the sides with my knees together and my feet spread apart.
I think I could watch him forever. I love the way he bounces to the beat of the music. I love how his muscles flex when he reaches out to press a button or turn a knob. Something about the way his shoulders tense when the music crescendos and the beat is about to drop makes me shiver. I’m lost in a little fantasy where I’m propped on the edge of the control panel with my legs wrapped around Liam’s waist and he has my dress pushed up. His hands are full of my ass while he devours my mouth.
He turns around as if he can feel me burning a hole in his back. He is very still, and if I hadn’t had so much to drink, I would have sworn he swayed and held the counter to steady himself, but I’m sure it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. Now that I’ve captured his attention, I drag my eyes from his eyes to his mouth, where I stare long enough to make it uncomfortable, but I don’t care. He is completely facing me now, and he’s propped his ass against the counter with his hands gripping it on both sides of him. My eyes trail slowly down his body to his chest, and I consider writing a letter of thanks to whoever invented the new fitted shirts that men are wearing these days. My God, he looks delicious. I’m surprised he’s allowing this to go on, but I’m enjoying myself so I continue. I linger on his abdomen long enough to imagine my tongue dipping between each one of his washboard abdominal muscles. But I know all hope is lost when I lower my gaze a few inches and feel the heat of a deep blush creep up my neck at the sight of his cock straining against his jeans. I squirm in my chair, but he doesn’t so much as blink. He’s allowing me to have my fantasy, and he’s probably having one of his own.
He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes for a moment. Then, as if he’s had an idea, he leans to the side and reaches into his back pocket for his phone. His eyes never leave mine while he presses buttons, readying the phone to take a picture. Somehow, he knows he is in the camera app, and he lifts it to snap a picture of me, and then another and another. Having him photograph me causes me to consider how I look slouching in a chair, buzzed, with my hair tussled and my makeup smeared on my face. Not sexy. I move to straighten up, but he holds out his hand, indicating that I should stay like I am. He pushes off the counter and approaches me to show me one of the pictures.
I don’t even recognize the woman in the photograph. She’s sultry and sexy, with wanton eyes full of raw desire. He leans forward and brushes my hair away from my ear and whispers.
“You are the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Sooner or later, you’re going to be mine.”
I swallow hard. I feel faint, and I’m certain I’m no longer breathing. He doesn’t move, and there is a direct line from my ear to my core where a bomb is ticking, waiting for him to detonate it with his touch.
God, I’ve never wanted anything more. No man, not even Terrell, has ever made me feel this sexy and desirable. If we were alone, I would be having sex with a married man right now, and that is the smack of reality I need to take a deep breath and move away from him. I straighten up in the chair, and he unfolds to his full height, which isn’t helping matters, because now I’m looking directly at his bulging cock.
The universe has its mind made up. Liam and I have been paired by a higher power. There’s no doubt. I have no choice but to believe him. Sooner or later, I will be his. As wrong as it is to lust after another woman’s husband, I do. The circumstances of his marriage make me feel less guilty, but marriage is marriage. It’s amazing that Liam is still married to Amira, considering she all but stole six months of his life, but if she hadn’t, the chances of me meeting him would have been slim to none. In a warped way, I am grateful that she did what she did.
He leans down, not as close this time, but close enough for me to hear him.
“I want to drive you home. Do you think you can hold on for another hour?”
His blue eyes are hypnotizing. He could ask me to sit here until the end of time and I would. I nod yes just as something catches his eye behind me. He makes a few gestures with his hands that look like sign language before he pins me with his stare again.
He trails the tip of his finger down the side of my cheek and along my chin. I close my eyes and feel the room spin. I loll my head back into the chair and pray that this is as bad as it gets. I feel Liam press a kiss to the top of my head, and my heart rate doubles. This isn’t going to be easy. Why am I letting him drive me home again? Oh, yes. Because I’m beguiled, spellbound, mesmerized, and helpless against his powers. That’s why.
Chapter 17
Liam
I could easily take advantage of this situation if I were an asshole. Lourdes fell asleep while I closed the club, and I carried her to my car and buckled her in without waking her. I had my eye on her all night, and I swear she only had three martinis. She’s either an ultra-lightweight, or I wasn’t watching her as closely as I thought. I told Kit not to let her get too messed up. He has a tendency to be a very encouraging drinking partner, and I’m pretty sure Lourdes doesn’t drink often, being a single mother in college.
I’m sitting in the parking garage with the engine running and ready to go, but I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s so beautiful with her messy hair and mascara smudges under her eyes from the heat of the club. Imperfection never looked so perfect.
I reach across to smooth her hair away from her face, and for the first time in over an hour, she stirs and mumbles something . . . my name? Yes. She said Liam, and not just Liam but ‘oh, Liam’. I’m getting more action in her dreams than I am when she’s conscious. She’s dreaming about me, though, and that is a very good thing. I’m getting through to her. I was worried after I heard her reaction to my fucked up history with Amira. I’m still hoping like hell that she will have our baby.
Just as that thought passes through my mind, my phone chirps with a new text. It’s from Amira.
The old man is still hanging on. They say he’ll be fine, but I’m staying until I’m sure. His lawyer won’t tell me shit about his will and that has me fucking freaked out. We can’t hold off on the baby thing and I can’t come home, so just get that girl from the restaurant to do the artificial insemination thing instead of in vitro. We don’t have time to mess around. Let me know how it goes. Love you, handsome. –A
Only Amira would tell her husband to just do the artificial insemination instead of in vitro via text. She’s so fucking crass, it’s shocking. God forbid I have a child so uncaring and cold.
That’s never going to happen. Amira just instructed me to have a baby with Lourdes, and Lourdes is nearly angelic from what I’ve seen so far. I want to spend more time with her. I want to meet her son and take her places and show her things she’s never seen. I want to pay for her to go to college because smart girls are so fucking hot. When did I start thinking smart girls
were hot?
I close the screen on my phone and put it on the charger. After one last long look at her, I realize I don’t know her address to take her home. The thought of taking her home with me is tempting, but she would wake up in the morning and freak out. I wonder where Toby is. Who’s watching him? Maybe he’s at home, waiting for her with a sitter.
Her tiny purse is lying in her lap. She was clutching it earlier, but her fingers have long since relaxed. I slide it out, careful not to disturb the dream she is having with me, and glance at her driver’s license for her address. Her apartment complex doesn’t sound familiar to me, so I enter it into my GPS and pull out of the parking lot.
After a few miles and turns, I’m thinking I don’t much like the neighborhood she lives in. The closer we get, the shadier the people on the street look and the shittier the houses are. By the time I pull into her parking lot, I’ve decided she has to move. She can’t raise a son here, and she definitely can’t be pregnant with my child here.
The building is a two-story, rundown dump that looks like an old hotel. There are two or three sparse, pathetic palm trees out front and a playground I wouldn’t let my dog play on—if I had a dog.
I cut the engine and take her keys from her purse. Her driver’s license said it was apartment 3B, so I’m guessing it’s on the second floor. That’s good. At least nobody’s going to be crawling in her window in the middle of the night to attack her. Fuck, why do I have to have such an active imagination?
I try to wake her with a gentle nudge, but she’s out. I hope nobody calls the cops when they see me carrying her to her apartment. On the other hand, I don’t think it’s going to look too out of the ordinary around here.
I scoop her into my arms and make my way up the stairs to her place. She’s starting to mumble now, and by the time we’ve reached her door, she’s coming around.