He was touched by her, the concern in her voice.
“Oh, god, no. You’re doing everything right.” He suddenly wanted her more now than he could stand.
“Come here.” Being that close, having her touch him, having her want to please him, to actually care, fueled a desire that was now raging out of control.
And so he took her, hard and fast, tipping her back onto the bed, spreading her legs before she had a chance to even gasp. The light from the window fell across her face; she was startled but not afraid.
The fingers of one hand dug into her ass as he drove himself into her, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders. He knew she could hardly move but at that moment he wanted to consume her, take all she had to give.
When he came, it was with a force that took his breath away. He tipped his head back, mouth open in a soundless cry, too overwhelmed with sensation to even breath. He was surprised when she arched up against him, crying out, her hands raking across his back. He felt a pang of guilt for putting his desires before hers but she was right there with him, her body responding to every move he’d made.
He was gasping for breath, body slick with sweat when he finished, collapsing next to her. They lay without touching for a long time, slowly recovering, hearts slowing, breathing returning to normal.
After a while Liam propped himself up on one elbow. She turned, her eyes soft in the light from the window.
“Hey...” She breathed the word.
“Hey yourself.” He leaned over, kissing the tip of her nose.
“That was...” Then she laughed, rolling toward Liam.
“I have no idea what that was...it was intense, amazing...there aren’t words for that. And I majored in English.”
Liam pulled her against him, kissing her hard.
“I don’t think any girl’s ever laughed at me after sex. This is a first.”
She pushed him away, still laughing. “You know I’m teasing, right? You do have a sense of humor?” He could hear the smile in her voice.
“Yeah, sometimes I do.”
He pulled her down, nestling her head on his shoulder.
“I got a little carried away, I guess. Sorry.” He toyed with her hair, stroking it absently, fingers tangling in the silky strands.
“I like it when you get carried away. It’s...different. I like it, a lot.” He heard the smile in her voice.
“I mean, I don’t have a lot of experience. And the guys I’ve been with...have been...different than you.”
Liam smiled. “I take it that’s a good thing?”
“Oh, most definitely.”
Angela shifted on the bed, her elbow hitting his ribs and he winced.
“What’s the matter?” She rose up, looking down at him.
“Nothing...bruised ribs. They’re a little tender.”
Angela pulled the sheet back. “Liam...that looks horrible.” Her eyes were wide.
“It looks worse than it is.” That really wasn’t true, but he didn’t want to scare her.
“Come here.” He pulled her back against him, her body curving to fit his contours.
They were quiet, Liam breathing in the scent of Angela’s perfume, the scent of them together, as she slowly ran her hand over his chest. He felt her fingers tracing the line of the scar and as much as he wanted her to stop, he resisted the urge to grab her hand. Maybe it’s time to let this go. If she asks...
And she did, tracing the scar from beginning to end. “Is this part of your ancient history?”
Her fingers were soft on his skin, but it felt as if the scar were a fresh wound, just inflicted. He shifted beneath her, suddenly restless, uneasy.
“Yeah. It is.” He took a deep breath.
“You might as well hear the rest of the story. There’s really no one else that’s ever heard it all. Like I said, no one cares.”
Angela placed her hand flat on his chest, over his heart. “I care, Liam.”
He pulled her against him briefly. “Yeah.” His voice was rough.
“Jim hit my mom, a lot. I tried to get between them once and he hit me. And then he decided I should be punished for interfering. So he beat me.”
“The other scars? On your back?” Angela’s voice was low, tiny in the dim room.
Liam shifted again, rubbing his shoulders against the sheets. “Yeah. With a belt. Every time after that it was a belt. My mom he hit; me he beat.”
He took a ragged breath, the fear welling up in his mind, the helpless feeling of being small and weak, the terror at hearing Jim calling his name.
“I never knew what would set him off, sometimes I don’t think it was anything. I think he just like to hit things...people. Me.”
“When I was fourteen or fifteen, I had a growth spurt. I put on fifteen pounds and grew four inches in less than a year. Jim’s not a really big guy and suddenly I was taller than him, not such a skinny little kid.”
Liam stopped, remembering back to that summer. The anger he’d felt at Jim came back, just as strong as if he were right there with the man.
“One day, I took a swing at him. He’d been after my mom, hitting her, yelling at her for something stupid. She never fought back. I yelled at him, told him to knock it off. He turned on me, pulling off his belt as he came across the kitchen.”
“ ‘You little bastard.’ That’s what he called me. ‘Bastard.’ Anyway, he got close and I took a swing, a big roundhouse. Barely hit him in the jaw; almost broke my hand though. He bellowed like an ox, threw down the belt and picked up a knife from the kitchen table.”
Liam could feel Angela trembling against him. He hugged her tightly for a second before going on.
“I remember we’d been cutting up watermelon; the knife was one of those really big long things, sharp as fuck. He came at me, slashing the knife through the air. I don’t know if he was drunk or just that mad, but I think he was trying to cut my throat.”
Angela was crying now, her body shaking silently. Liam tugged the sheet over them, pulling her against him. He could feel her tears, the dampness of them against his chest.
“Liam...” Her voice was thick with emotion.
“Shh...don’t say anything...please.”
He was quiet, images playing through his mind: the startling red of the blood on his shirt, his mother’s screams from the other side of the room. But the image that stayed with him the longest, always had, the one that scared him still was Jim’s face. The smile on Jim’s face as he thrust the knife forward.
“I left. I ran away. I knew if I stayed, he’d kill me, or I’d kill him. There was a kid down the block I knew from school. His mother was a crack addict; she took me in, cleaned me up as best she could, let me stay there for a few weeks. Then she forgot I was there, stopped caring about me. So I stole some money from her purse and left. I’ve been on my own ever since.”
Angela pulled away from Liam. She sat up, looking at him with those pretty green eyes. He could see the tear stains on her face, the pain...or the pity, disgust, loathing, whatever...in her eyes. He scowled, turning his head away.
“Pretty pathetic life.” He spoke to the wall, a bitter edge to his voice. She’s seen enough of the horror show...I’m too much for this little girl.
With gentle fingers, she turned his face back to her.
“Liam...look at me. What happened to you...I can’t imagine. I can’t. But don’t turn away from me now...I’m not going anywhere.”
She pulled him against her, wrapping her arms around him. Despite himself, he put a tentative arm around her shoulder as she turned her face against his chest. Then he felt her lips on his skin, softly tracing the scar, kissing it gently.
And that undid him completely. It had been a long time since he’d cried but the tears ran unchecked down his face. Angela lifted her head, her fingers brushing the tears away. He buried his face in her neck, her body soaking up his pain, his tears.
It was much later when he took her again, slowly, tenderly, Liam feeling vulnerable, somethi
ng he wasn’t used to feeling, a feeling he really didn’t like. Angela sighed as she came, an exhalation that startled Liam with its gentleness in contrast to her body silently writhing beneath his.
His own release was prolonged, his face buried in Angela’s neck as his body shuddered against her, feeling like something dark that had been pent up for a long time had finally been let go. She held him the entire time, her voice soft in his ear, murmuring to him, words without meaning.
Finally there was nothing left in him and he rolled away from Angela, breathing hard. The bed shifted again and he found her in his arms, her face pressed against his chest.
“You’re staying?” As soon as the words left his lips, he realized how callous they sounded.
“I mean, you’re welcome to stay...” He shook his head, grimacing in the dark.
“I want you to stay,” he finally said.
Angela lifted her head, kissing him, soft fingers on his face.
“Yes, I’m staying. There’s nowhere else I want to be, except here with you.”
Liam lay awake for a long time, the comforting warmth of Angela against his body, her soft breath against his skin, marveling at the chance events that brought her to him and thanking whatever was responsible that he’d found her.
And wondering what the hell he’d just done.
*
Liam woke her very early the next morning, with an apology and then the gentleness of a brief but sensuous session in bed. He’d ended with another apology and the explanation that he wanted to be at the gym early. Frank had given him hell for being late and then he’d left early.
The offer of a shower together wasn’t forthcoming and Angela wasn’t sure if it was just because Liam was in a hurry or if there was something else going on. He seemed distant, distracted. She grabbed a quick solo shower, pulling her wet hair back in a clip before getting dressed.
“Are you okay?” She hated when people asked her that, especially her parents. But she didn’t know how else to approach Liam. He’d unburdened himself, shared something obviously very painful. She thought he’d at least mention it.
“Yeah, fine. Why?” He was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his shoes. He looked up at her, brows drawn together in a faint frown.
“I...well, nothing. I guess...” She shook her head. “Nothing.” She smiled brightly at him. You barely know the man, just leave it alone. This is your insecurity, not him. And stop thinking for him.
“Okay.” He rose, pulling her close. His eyes were serious, dark in the bright light of the morning sun.
“Last night was...not how I am. I mean, all that stuff I told you...I don’t share that, ever. I don’t trust anyone with that, or much else.”
Angela felt her forehead creasing in a frown. Where was this going?
“It’s okay, Liam. I’m not judging you by your past. It just helps me know who you are now. I know it was hard for you to share that. I do.”
Liam shook his head. “Everyone judges. It’s how people are. Show them a weakness and they take advantage. It’s how I win fights, looking for my opponent’s weakness and taking advantage of them.”
Angela’s frown deepened. “Do you really think that of me? That I’m that shallow? Or that I’ll use this against you somehow?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. I want to believe you won’t, but it’s hard...” He broke off, sighing.
“I really don’t know. I want to believe you’re different...” He ran his fingers down her cheek.
“You have me confused in more ways than I can say, Angela. I don’t know what to do with half the feelings I have...most of them scare the hell out of me.”
“You realize you scare the hell out of me too, Liam. You’re not the only one here venturing into deep waters.” Angela’s voice was rising, laced with a tinge of anger.
“Every relationship has rough spots. We’ve known each other for a total of what? Two days?”
Her voice softened. “Give this some time to grow, Liam. It’s okay to be scared.”
Liam shook his head. “I don’t do scared, Angela. If I did, I’d be dead by now.”
Angela’s anger faded. It hadn’t really sunk in until that moment that someone had tried to kill Liam, that distrust had been a constant companion most of his life. No wonder he doesn’t trust anyone...or me.
“You can think what you want of me, Liam Cross, but you’re wrong.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, watching the look of disbelief cross his face, followed by amusement.
“You’re tougher than anyone I’ve been in the ring with, you know that? And you’re probably right...”
“ ‘Probably right?’ ” She looked up at him, poking him in the chest. “I am right. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
Liam laughed. “Well, yeah...I have been called stubborn before. Quite a few times.”
He pulled her hard against him. “Cut me some slack, okay? This is hard, but most good things are. Or so I’ve been told. The only good thing I’ve ever known has been fighting...and that’s also painful.”
She was on the verge of saying something else when he caught her lips in a kiss. He held her for a moment before turning her toward the bedroom door.
“And as much as I’d like to continue this, I have to get to the gym. Did you call for a car?”
“Yes...it should be here by now.”
Liam walked her down to the sidewalk. The sleek Lincoln was waiting at the curb, the driver hurrying around to open the door for her. There was a moment of confusion when Liam and the driver both reached for the door at the same time. Angela thanked the driver, who retreated to the driver’s seat.
“What the hell?” Liam glared at the man’s retreating back.
“They all do that. It’s nothing.” She reached up, her fingers on his face.
“Kiss me, Liam. You have to go and I have to go home.”
He bent down, kissing her hard, his hands across her back. She’d just spent the night with him but if she could, she’d have gladly gone back to his dingy apartment.
Liam finally broke away, leaving her swaying on the sidewalk. She opened her eyes, looking up at him.
“I’ll talk to you later.” She smiled.
“Alright...” He turned her toward the waiting car. “I better get going before I’m late and Frank’s all over me again.”
“Do you want a lift? I can have them drop you...”
Liam waved off her offer. “No, no. Thanks though. I don’t think showing up at the gym in that...” he gestured toward the car “...it’s not me. But thanks.”
Liam kissed her forehead. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”
“Alright.” She climbed into the back of the car. Liam closed the door and the car pulled away from the curb. This time when she looked back, Liam was standing on the sidewalk, watching the car drive away. She saw him raise a hand before losing sight of him in the bright morning sunlight.
*
The doorman gave her his usual obsequious greeting. She took the elevator to the apartment, then climbed the stairs to her room. There was a note on her bed from her mother. Adam called...see me when you get in.
“Great.” She crumped the note, tossing it in the wastepaper basket by her desk. She dropped her purse on the desk, plugged in her cell phone and stripped out of her dress. There were so many things she should be doing but she was tired, the late night and early morning was not something she was used to. Then she thought about Liam, what his day was going to be like and she changed her mind.
Instead of climbing back into bed, she pulled on her old sweatpants and a Columbia t-shirt, heading downstairs for breakfast. Sophie was in the kitchen, singing to herself, something simple, but in Russian.
“Oh, Miss Angela. Your mother has been looking for you. There was a phone call for you, more than one I think. From that nice young man.” Sophie was beaming; Adam was a particular favorite of hers.
Angela sat down at the kitchen counter. “I know, I saw her note.”
“I’ll have toast and tea, please.”
Sophie bustled about the kitchen, setting the teakettle on the stove, taking out the bread.
“You know, your mother was not happy to find you gone again last night, especially so soon after dinner.” Sophie shook her head.
“There was some place I had to be. I wasn’t trying to upset her but that always seems to happen, anyway.”
Sophie set the tea and toast in front of Angela, nodding. “She was not happy.”
“Yes, I heard you, Sophie.” Angela caught the hurt look on Sophie’s face.
“I’m sorry. I’m tired... and you know Mom. Anything and everything seems to upset her these days.” she sighed. “Is she home?”
“Yes, she’s in her office.” Sophie left the kitchen without saying another word. Angela heard her moving about in the laundry room, but there was no more singing.
Angela chewed on her toast, thinking over her night with Liam. She was confused, scared, maybe...but not as much as he was. There were so many things in his life that had gone wrong, things for which she had no frame of reference. No one had ever even spanked her, even when she’d colored her mother’s best silk dress with markers, wanting to fill in the white squares on what she realized now must have been a several thousand dollar designer original.
“Angela! Where have you been? And why are you dressed like a street person? You know I hate those baggy sweatpants. Your hair...” Angela felt her mother tugging at the clip that held her hair back.
“It’s wet and you smell...like....”
“Mom, I’m fine. Really. I was out...for heaven’s sake. It’s not the end of the world.” Angela could hear the edge to her voice, the rising frustration and today, anger. And for once, she didn’t care.
Her mother sat down next to Angela. “I’m worried about you. You’ve been gone...overnight...for the past two nights, you wanted to miss dinner with your boyfriend and now you’re disrespectful.”
“Mother! Adam is not my boyfriend. How many times do I have to tell you that? We broke up weeks ago. I dumped him, if you want to know.”
“Angela, there’s no need to get hysterical.”
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