Liam’s hand slammed onto the tabletop so hard their beers jumped. He felt the eyes of the few other patrons in the bar jump to him, but he ignored the sensation. “Screw you,” he said to Penn, in a harsh whisper. “Screw you and your talk of civility and decency and fucking nobility.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m none of those things. You’re none of those things.”
Penn spread his hands. “I don’t pretend to be. I’m the Bastard Bennett, remember?”
“He was the bastard,” Liam spit out. “Dear old dad. All his stinking affairs—I knew about every single one since I was a little ten-year-old kid lying to my mom about going to the movies with the old man. Instead he’d drop me off so he could bang some bimbo at the No-Tell Motel the next town over.”
“I’m sorry.” Penn was silent a moment, his gaze watchful. “I’m sorry for that. I hate what he did to you.”
Liam’s laugh tasted bitter. “Everyone around Edenville regarded him as this successful, stand-up family guy when he was hopping into the beds of his best friends’ wives—and into the bed of his wife’s best friend.”
“Ah.” Penn glanced toward the door. “Erin Bell.”
“Yeah. She was younger than my mother but they did everything together. It would have killed my mom to know—so when Dad called me in Tuscany and begged me to come home . . . I went. He said that Erin was going to break the news of the affair to my mother and he needed my help to persuade her against it.”
He dropped his head to his hands, his guts twisted in knots of anger and sickness. All this was better left in that dark closet in his head, but it was out now, and he couldn’t stuff it away. “She had a price for her silence—something, someone to replace the man who was ending the affair. I was twenty years old . . . and the price of her silence was me.”
“Jesus,” Penn said, his voice soft. “Jesus, Liam.”
“I didn’t touch her. I swear to God I didn’t touch her. But for a long time I felt so dirty I didn’t want to touch anyone.” He looked up and almost smiled at Penn’s appalled expression. “So noble, decent, upright? I don’t think so. Our gene pool is more like a cesspool.”
He shoved back from the table so abruptly his stool’s legs screeched against the floor. “I need fresh air.” Three feet from the entrance, the door opened and the outside light silhouetted two newcomers.
He knew their outlines.
He could find her mouth in the dark.
Giuliana walked in, her arm linked with Kohl’s, her face turned up to his. She was laughing, then she went on tiptoe to kiss the other man’s cheek.
Kohl put his hand on her shoulder.
Rage wooshed up inside Liam like an overfed fire. He remembered what she’d said in his kitchen two days before. Ten years of wasted time.
He heard Penn’s words repeat. Civility is for sissies.
He saw Kohl’s hand on his wife. For the first time in the last few days he wasn’t confused or frustrated or struggling to restrain himself. He knew just what to do. Fuck serenity.
Like a jackhammer, his arm shot back and then rocketed forward, catching Kohl square on the jaw and knocking the man on his ass.
After the punch, sensory details sharpened so vividly that Giuliana had to wince. The tree-fall thud of Kohl’s body hitting the ground jarred her bones, the smell of tap beer was lip-pursing sour, the flash of ferocity in Liam’s gaze hurt her eyes.
She swung toward the downed man, but Penn was there, pressing a set of car keys into her hand. “Get Liam out of here,” he said. Then he pushed her and his half brother in the direction of the door.
It all happened so fast. One second she was walking into the bar with Kohl—he’d said he wanted some advice—and then ker-plow, he was on the ground and she and Liam were outside, squinting against the bright sunlight. He looked over his shoulder, as if debating a return to the fight.
She grabbed his arm to tow him in the direction of Penn’s truck. “This way.”
He resisted her encouragement, his expression set. Then his gaze jumped from the bar’s door to her face. The sight of his eyes, still that furious blue, made her belly jolt.
“Fine,” he bit out. “I want to fight with you, too.”
The raw sound of his voice made her insides twitch again. But then he had her hand. When they made it to Penn’s truck, she realized he’d gotten her where he wanted her and he’d taken possession of the keys to the vehicle.
Goose bumps jittered across her skin as she climbed onto the bench seat in the warm cab. Liam shut the door behind her and she instantly curled her fingers around the handle, instinct telling her to run again.
But another part of her—somewhere below all the jolts and flutters—was breathless and paralyzed by the harsh glitter in his eyes. She’d seen Liam collected, impassive, silent, controlled.
Now she couldn’t miss the emotion roiling beneath the surface of his skin.
His gaze caught on her hand as he slid into his seat, the one still clutching the handle. “Let go,” he said.
Let go. It was what she’d always wanted to see Liam do, and this might be as close as she’d ever get.
“Let go,” he ordered again, and she uncurled her fingers.
He started the engine, and then he stretched one long arm across the back of the bench seat as he reversed. His fingertips brushed her bare shoulder. Her nipples instantly hardened, and she slid down in her seat, hoping to hide the reaction by creating folds in the soft cotton of her sleeveless shirt. Under her light skirt, she pressed her knees together.
It didn’t alleviate the sudden ache between her thighs.
They were out of town in no time. She couldn’t guess exactly where he was heading—except that it was into the hills. In the ten years since she’d been gone, vineyards had crept up these elevations as well, the value of the crop worth the cost and toil of removing trees and rocks.
But the mood inside the truck’s cab didn’t match the lovely surroundings. Over the soft exhalations of the air conditioner, she could hear Liam’s heavy breaths. Hers began to sync with his, and each time she drew in a gulp of air, she felt her breasts swell. Every inch of her skin felt ready to burst.
Face burning, she turned it away from him, but it didn’t help. He pulled off the paved road onto a dirt track and they were surrounded by overhanging oaks. The rutted road caused her to bounce on the seat, her body jumping as roughly as her heartbeat.
Then he pulled off the path to nose the truck into deeper shade. The trailing branches of trees lightly scratched the roof and windshield like fingernails. Giuliana shivered.
She shivered again as Liam punched the controls and the windows rolled down. Cool air blew across her sensitized skin and it smelled like fresh creek water.
Just like that, she knew where they were. A make-out spot he’d known about and taken her to shortly after they’d gone from playful shoves to tentative kisses. Squeezing her knees together again, she slammed her arms over her chest and shot him a nasty look. How many women had he brought here after her that he would remember it so well?
He was staring straight ahead, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His fingers strangled the steering wheel. The tension in the cab could be served over pancakes.
She broke first. “Why the heck would you hit Kohl?”
His head turned, and he merely looked at her out of those hot, glittering eyes.
She squirmed as a bubbly thrill shot through her bloodstream. Bad Giuliana, liking that buzz of danger in the air. “There’s nothing going on with me and Kohl,” she said. “You know that.”
“For the last year I’ve put up with him bringing you coffee, giving you back rubs, acting like your personal errand boy—”
“He works for the winery!”
“Keep away from Kohl.”
The steel in his voice electrified her. Her ankle bones met each other in a hard kiss. “You don’t make the rules!” Her neck went hot with her awareness that she sounded as if she were eight years old, a
child objecting to whatever boundaries Liam was setting for the current game.
Lowering her voice, she unfolded her arms to wipe her damp palms over her cloth-covered knees. “I can see any man I want.”
The air crackled. “How many have there been?” he demanded.
His jealousy set hers free. “You answer that question first.” But she’d die if he did, she thought. She’d just curl up like a diseased leaf on the vine and drop to the ground. “Erin Bell’s one.”
In a blink he’d slid down the bench seat. Her shoulder harness snapped free and he made her face him, her upper arms in his firm grip. “Did she speak to you?” A little shake. “Did you see her on your way into the bar?”
Swallowing, she wet her dry mouth. “No. I ran into her in town a few days ago. She told me I was a fool to have left you alone for ten years.”
Liam’s hands fell away. “She’s nothing. Don’t listen to her.”
So she hadn’t been a fool? Because she felt like an idiot now, hot and bothered and her heart beating against her chest like the boom-boom-boom of doom. Surely only a fool would feel stirred up by the way his very presence was crowding against her, even with his hands no longer touching her.
But she was, and he was. Liam, usually so remote, was surrounding her with the force of his personality. If another man’s energy had pushed at her like this, she would have been out the passenger door on the instant. In LA, whether during a casual cup of coffee or on a more serious dinner date, she’d been always poised to step back, disengage, flee.
“Tell me about the men,” he insisted.
Movie stars, she thought. Tell him you dated famous men at Hollywood parties. Stunt pilots who wowed you with their tricky maneuvers. An ER doctor who saved lives every day.
“They were nothing,” she said instead.
“They’re nothing now,” Liam added.
His certitude should offend her. She should object to his tone, balk at the order, make her own demands. Take me home. Stop being so . . . so . . . deliciously forceful.
Ducking her chin, she glanced at him through her lashes, noting the strain on his face and the taut line of his neck.
Quit all the passionate engagement.
Instead, biting her lip, she shivered. Liam reached over and picked up her hand. With slow movements, he threaded her fingers with his. The slide of his larger, longer digits against the inner surfaces of hers, spreading her for his possession, was like a sexual act in and of itself. Her breasts tingled, the tight tips hurting as they constricted. She couldn’t breathe.
“This is how it’s going to be,” he said. “Until Vow-Over Weekend is behind us, there’ll be no journalists, no Kohl, no other men.”
There’d never been any other men that counted, but she averted her eyes so he wouldn’t see the truth of it on her face.
“For the next two weeks, you’ll be in my bed and I’ll have you there—and any other place I feel like it.”
Her gaze leapt to his and her temperature spiked. He hadn’t just said—but he had just said, and the unbending intent was clear in the simmering blue of his eyes and the rigid set of his muscles.
She didn’t follow orders, she wouldn’t follow orders . . .
But, Bad Giuliana, she so wanted to follow this order. Her mouth was dry again as she tried to reason it out. Was it because she’d had those years of being in charge as the little mother, tasked with caring for her younger sisters and keeping up her father’s spirits after their mother had died? Was there some flaw in her that made her aroused at the idea of being overwhelmed . . . overcome?
Or was it because she wanted Liam to want her just that much?
For two weeks ...
“And I’ve decided I want it right now, Giuliana,” he said, as if she’d already agreed to his demands. Releasing her hand, he shoved back on the seat until his spine met the driver’s door and the rest of his long body sprawled against the leather. “Take off your clothes, baby.”
Here? Now? Heat flared on her flesh, hot enough to burn away the material that covered it. She swallowed hard, her brain wading slowly through her jumbled thoughts.
Was this a dare? Some kind of backhanded attempt at pushing her away? Was he trying to assuage his conscience by an offer that gave her a chance to reject him?
Except she didn’t want to reject him. Why couldn’t she—for two weeks—let Liam set the rules?
Still, she hesitated, her brain on stall, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat.
“I said I want you naked, Jules.”
Her gaze jumped to his. He was focused on her, his attention not wandering from her face, his blue eyes resolute. A shiver wracked her body and she licked her lips, hot everywhere, inside and out.
His right hand shifted to his left cuff. He unfastened the button there and slowly folded back the fabric to his elbows. Mesmerized by the ropey muscles he revealed, she watched as he did the same with the other cuff. Then he linked his hands over his flat belly, right above the rigid length she could see beneath his fly.
Her gaze landed there, lingered, and she thought she saw it flex. “Jules,” he warned, and one palm rubbed that fascinating ridge. “Clothes off.”
The sensualist inside her skin couldn’t take the confining brush of the material covering it another second. Her hands went to the bottom of her tank top.
“Skirt and panties first,” he said.
Her cheeks burned. “Liam . . .” she whispered, glancing at his face.
His jaw hardened. “Skirt and panties first.”
Oh, God. Ducking her head, she placed her palms over the cotton. There was six inches of stretchy ruching from waistline to hips, and she pushed it down. The elastic edges of her panties got caught in the movement, and her blush seemed to slide lower as they did, all the way to her ankles. She wiggled her feet to free them from her pull-on flats and the folds of fabric.
She glanced at him. His face still set, he gestured at her with his chin, not having to use words to direct the next part of the disrobing. Hands shaking, she pulled her tank over her head and released the catch on her bra. The two pieces joined her other clothes.
“Now come here,” he said.
Oh, my. It was daylight, in the front seat of a truck, in the location where she’d once—more than once—begged him to make love to her. He’d taken charge then, too, and her passion had been able to persuade him only so far. They’d touched and teased each other to climax, but this—this he’d held back from her.
Through the screen of her lashes, she glanced over at him. He was freeing the metal buttons of his fly. The knuckles of his right fingers were swollen and red from the punch. Both of his hands were shaking.
A surge of power shot through Giuliana. A little smile curved her mouth and she turned, trembling herself, to crawl over his long legs. He caught her naked bottom in his hands.
She slid from his hold, rubbing her belly against the hard column of his flesh that he’d released from his clothes. Her eyes closed, reveling in the satiny feel of him against her. She caressed him by undulating her pelvis, and his hands stroked over the curves of her hips, controlling her rolling body.
“Now,” she said, already eager to join with him. Edging her knees higher, she poised herself to take him inside. “Now.”
He held her off. “No.”
“Yes.” She could tell he was as into the moment as she, his palms were burning, his eyes so tightly closed that fine lines fanned at the edges.
“No condom.”
She froze. This was cruel! He was cruel! If he’d known he had no protection with him, he shouldn’t have started this game. A younger Giuliana might have considered taking the chance, but the woman she was now wouldn’t ever.
“No,” he said again, sounding tortured. Liam wouldn’t risk it, either.
He brought her mouth up to his. “We know how to do this, baby,” he said against her lips. Then he slid his tongue inside and put downward pressure on her hips so that
she stroked his heavy shaft with her body. Stroked it there, along her soft and wet layers of flesh and against the aching, pulsing nub at their apex.
“I couldn’t wait,” he said roughly. “I had to have you now.”
And then their bodies moved together, her nakedness against his rough clothes, but their hot and straining parts meeting, over and over and over. His hands were tight on her skin, still controlling, still making sure they were both safe.
This was their unique balance. How they meshed. His tight restraint, her willful pleasure-seeking. Combined, the experience was made better for both of them.
Command and acquiescence. Now and yes.
Heart and soul.
It felt like that as they both cried out. Climaxed.
“Two weeks,” he ordered again, as he took her mouth with another hot, wet kiss.
Yes. Two weeks was what she had left for all of this.
14
Kohl squared his shoulders, smoothed his palms over his hair, then approached the Tanti Baci booth set up for Market Night in the Edenville town square. His new shirt felt too tight around the neck and he worried about the amount of aftershave he’d spread onto his face, but he didn’t let those concerns slow his steps. He had a date. And a promise to himself. For the duration of the evening, he was going to be the epitome of the three Cs: charming, considerate, and civilized.
It was what Giuliana had advised, right before his jaw and Liam’s knuckles had their humiliating meeting. “Invite the girl out,” she’d said. “Then remember the three Cs. Show you can be social through dinner and a movie. Food, anyway, followed by some form of entertainment.” She’d followed that up with a kiss on the cheek, and then—
Liam’s fist came out of nowhere.
Kohl touched his chin with his fingertips. For Grace, he’d shaved so close that the bruise he’d been hiding behind a couple of days’ worth of whiskers was in evidence. He figured she was too polite to ask about it, though he hoped it wouldn’t put her off. Damn, he thought, his mood swinging low. If that was the case, he should have at least pounded on Liam in return.
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