by Stacey Lynn
“You okay?” I asked once I caught my breath and hers had settled some. “I didn’t mean to get rough at the end.”
Her cheeks were flushed, both of us were peppered with sweat. I pushed hair off the side of her face and kissed her neck, her jaw, moving to her lips.
“I’m good. That was…wow…that was incredible.”
I wanted to stay inside of her all day. I wanted to fuck her more. Make love to her. Take her wild and take her slow. Restrain her and let her have her way with me.
I wanted to teach her everything I knew.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t. So I rested with her as long as I could, carefully pulling out of her. “Stay here,” I said. “I’ll come clean you up.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” I headed to the bathroom and removed the condom. Two dark lines of blood streaked down the side.
Fuck. Why did that make me hard?
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked when I returned to her with a warm, wet cloth in my hand. I’d made her bleed. I wanted to beat my chest and cover her in kisses.
She turned a lazy smile my way, sated and maybe slightly embarrassed as I began wiping her.
“I’m good, I promise. Thank you for making my first time good for me.”
I tossed the cloth to the floor and climbed on top of her, rolling us so she was on top of me. My hand slid to the back of her head and I held her in place.
She didn’t have to thank me for that. I wanted to make everything good for her.
“Always.” I pulled her close and sealed our mouths together. We kissed languidly, slowly. We kissed like we had all the time in the world, but I didn’t push it further.
We didn’t have the time now, but I’d have her again later.
Now that she’d given herself to me, I wanted to take everything.
––––––––––
“What in the hell?”
That was me scowling at Claudia. Hands plastered on my hips, I was still trying to shake off the memory of how she came hours ago, how her tight, so goddamn tight, cunt grabbed my dick making it almost impossible to slide into her.
But that was hours ago, and now the plane had just landed in Kansas City and we had to get moving.
“I just don’t think I should go to Kansas with you. Not to your family.”
“Why the fuck not?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Because media will be there, and you know it. I’m just not ready…” Her voice drifted.
I didn’t give a crap. I’d had her this morning and I was going to have her again tonight. Even if she was sore, there were other things I could teach her. No way in hell was she going back to New York like she’d just suggested. Where she could hide.
And maybe run from me.
“It’ll be fine.”
She started shaking her head and I dropped my hands, moving to her and gripping her waist. “Do you trust me?”
“What? Of course I do.”
“Then you’re coming. Told you we could do some of this at your pace but this isn’t one of them. And since I decided that, trust me to take care of the rest.”
“It’s not that, Liam.”
“Then what is it?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Worried her lip between her teeth and looked out the plane’s small windows. Not at me. She wasn’t even touching me even though I was holding her. A chill pricked the back of my neck.
It pissed me off. I didn’t have time for more bullshit, at least not today. “You’re coming with me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“And I don’t care. You’re mine, you do what I say.”
Jesus. If she’d slapped me I wouldn’t have been shocked.
Instead, she stepped out of my reach, smoothed her hair down and blinked.
And fucking disappeared. Had her body vanished, that wouldn’t have surprised me either. In the span of mere seconds, I saw a part of Claudia I hadn’t seen before.
Cool. Reserved. Fucking proper with a capital Pissed The Hell Off Ice Queen look.
I hated it.
“Claudia—” How many times was I going to apologize to her? Fucking hell.
She lifted a hand and dropped it, clasping her hands together at her front. She was so damn closed off, not even tears were in her eyes from the sting of my pain.
I messed up. I just didn’t have the time to apologize and fix it. A text as soon as we landed from my mom told me there were already reporters outside her house. Which wasn’t where we were going.
Because I wasn’t actually the asshole I was currently sounding like.
“Is there anything else you’d like me to do for you, sir?”
Sweet sugary voice, laced with poison. I wasn’t going near that tongue for fear of a deadly bite.
“No. Just get in the car.” I swiped my small bag off the floor and turned, almost running down the stairs like a pussy just to get away from the ice cold daggers in her narrowed, angry and hurt eyes. But fuck.
One damn day without drama. Was it too much to ask for?
I wasn’t a complete prick. I stopped at the bottom of the small staircase until Claudia met me there and with my hand on her lower back, that she neither flinched from or leaned into like was custom for her, guided her toward a waiting black Lincoln sedan.
And once we were seated inside, the car pulling out of the tarmac, I shivered.
I might as well as have been in Antarctica for the physical burst of coolness that filled the back seat.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
CLAUDIA
Go to your room, Claudia.
Go to this college, Claudia.
Play the violin, Claudia.
Dance better, Claudia.
Major in this, Claudia.
Wear this, Claudia.
Marry this man, Claudia.
People will believe whatever I tell them to Claudia, and if you behave appropriately, I’ll let them believe the best.
When you’re my wife, you’ll do as you’re told, Claudia.
ARGH. Enough. I’d had absolutely enough of especially, the men in my life, although my mother had her faults and commands too, acting as if just because I was at their side, meant I wasn’t capable of thinking for myself or doing anything I wanted.
This morning had been incredible. Mind-blowing. All the fumbling that girls talked about in high school and the first couple years of college while they were cashing in their V-Cards like an ATM was going to run out of money and they had to get it taken care of before there were no more dicks left in the world, had been embarrassing to listen to. It had also left me in no hurry to jump on the bandwagon for one of the many reasons being, not a single one of them had enjoyed that moment.
But Liam? After he’d taken his time with me, sure movements, control, assurances and making it not just good for me but the best it could possibly be had actually left me thankful that I’d stayed away from bumbling idiots and waited for someone who cared about me.
Of course that caring came with a leash and collar he thought he could parade around and force to heel at his beck and call.
Arrogant, stubborn man.
I was overreacting, I knew that. Even as I held the facade, which I was planning on doing to avoid letting him see my pain and anguish, as well as my regret, I already knew I’d lashed out at Liam, not from the decision to be bitchy as soon as he took my virginity, but from fear.
What would Harrison do if he saw me, not just with a celebrity, but at his family’s home in Kansas? There were too many choices and none of them good. He was more stubborn than the antsy man next to me.
I had to come clean before Liam found out, before Harrison pushed everything and showed up like I knew he had the power to do.
It wasn’t the time, and who knew when it would become a good time. I stayed silent, stewing in my own regret and letting Liam cling to his anger.
It hadn’t been the time to put my foot down, I’d intended
to talk to him about it on the plane. Instead, once we’d boarded, he’d whisked me off to the couch and played with me, bringing me to orgasm and we dry humped on the couch like teenagers and all words had fled my throat besides prayers and moans, giggles and whispers, pleas of more and please. We’d made out for hours, ate, napped and made out some more unable to keep our hands off each other.
We’d just gotten ourselves refreshed and fixed up when the plane landed and I’d freaked as soon as I saw the Town Car idling for us.
“We’ll be at the hotel in ten minutes,” Liam said and handed me a plastic bag I hadn’t noticed on the seat next to him. “Put this on.”
I took the bag from him, making sure our fingers didn’t touch and peeked in. “A wig?”
“Not so blonde you’ll look trashy but with that and sunglasses, you won’t be recognized.”
Something warm fluttered in my heart and I squeezed the bag closed. “Thank you. That was very kind.”
He nodded and glared out the window, running his hands down his strong, massive thighs. He was nervous and I’d pissed him off.
What a time for me to throw a tantrum.
Still, the reminder he owned me made me not feel too horrible. He didn’t need to continue throwing it in my face.
I debated for several moments whether I was brave enough to step out in public or wherever we were going and not have a disguise and decided against it. Opening the bag, I slid out the wig, flopped it around in my hands until I came across a section of bangs. The hair was lighter. Caramel with streaky blonde highlights. It was pretty. Felt real.
Which was sort of gross, but whatever.
I tucked my hair behind my ears and smoothed down my top before sliding the wig on. It took several moments of adjusting it in the small rearview mirror in front of us for it to look only slightly crooked. With more time, clips for my hair, I could do better and when it was on, I slid on my sunglasses. Black, round plastic frames covered my eyes and face all the way to the faux-bangs of the wig.
I was definitely unrecognizable.
Nerves settled somewhat, making me feel like a bigger idiot. He’d told me to trust him and at the first sign of fear, I hadn’t.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. My fingers curled in fists and he grunted, not turning to acknowledge me in the least.
We zipped through city streets, what I assumed was Kansas City and soon we were in the country, or suburbs based on the housing divisions we flew past. They were all cookie cutter homes, bland paint colors, white fences and sprinkled in between were fields of hay and corn, red and white barns with horses and cows.
Every mile further from the city, Liam tensed.
Every mile closer to his family’s I began wondering if he’d even heard my apology.
Worse, if he cared.
––––––––––
“Why are we here?” I asked, the first thing said in the car since my apology. I’d expected a two-story suburban home, white shutters, gray vinyl siding and a lot of land with perhaps cornfields edging along the back yard.
Instead, we had pulled up to a covered valet parking area of what had to be the best hotel in town. A circular drive with a water fountain in front, the place was sparkling and much nicer than anything I’d thought a small-town would offer. The entrance sign on the way in had declared it Carlton’s Golf Resort and Spa.
“Friend of mine owns it. He’ll make sure his security will keep reporters away if anyone texts I’m here.”
“Right.” Gosh, I really was a shmuck. “Liam.”
He was already out the door before I finished his name. Apparently my apology fell on deaf or ignoring ears but his coolness still stung.
Less than twelve hours before, I’d let him inside me. Stupid me for thinking a gift, as cliché as the word was, would mean something to a man like Liam.
But he had done everything he said he would, the least of which was make sure our identities were protected.
I tugged my wig to the right, fixing the part, and slid out of the door Liam held open for me.
Once outside, his hand immediately clamped around mine. The warmth and strength in his grip was comforting but I pulled away.
“Don’t,” he all but groaned. “It’s been a shitty day. And there’s too much shit for me to deal with right now. Just…let me hold your fucking hand, Claudia.”
I squeezed him back, useless of words. He stole them with his scowls and growls but it was the broken, wrecked sound in his voice that pulled me close. I sidled closer to him, our arms brushing as we walked into the lobby.
We were immediately met with a behemoth of a man, black perfectly fitted suit, silver-wired eyeglass frames on the bridge of a straight nose. Wide, rough jaw and eyes that almost smiled as wide as his mouth when he saw us.
“Fucking punk,” the man shouted and pulled Liam into one of those odd shoulder-back slap type hugs. With my hand still in Liam’s, I was jerked back and forth until the giant settled Liam back from him. “How the hell are you?”
“Good. Shitty. Whatever. Thanks for helping us on short notice.”
“Fuck you, loser. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be in jail for ditching MacNatty’s old Ford into the river. I owe you one.”
They shared a laugh, a memory of years ago, I assumed.
“Still. Thanks. And let’s keep teen hijinks on the down low for a while, right.”
“Anything you need, superstar.”
As if he just realized there was a woman standing next to Liam, the man turned his gaze down to me and I swore. Everything inside me faltered. Flickered to life. He was just…wowzers. And I felt that pull. Like I bet all the women in town did, too.
Good grief, I didn’t know they made men like this. Must have been all that Midwestern homegrown beef and corn.
I almost snickered at the thought, barely managing to keep myself composed.
“Who is this?” the man asked.
“Sorry.” Liam glanced down at me and nodded his head. “Claudia, this is Jordan Marx. He’s an old friend of mine from back in school.”
“I got that.” I grinned and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
His hand slid into mine.
“My pleasure,” he said and grinned at Liam, still holding my hand. “You always get the pretty ones.”
“Like hell. You’ve had your fair share.” Liam growled. “And are you gonna let my girl’s hand go?”
I hadn’t even realized he was still holding me, but at Liam’s question, Jordan’s hand slid from mine, smirking at Liam before his expression went serious.
“I talked to all the staff. Told everyone that if they leaked you were here, I’d find them and bury ‘em in pop’s farm field. You have the top floor. There are two rooms up there. I put some security men outside the elevator and the room next to yours is empty in case you need to bring your family here. Anything else you need from me?”
“A bottle of scotch?” Liam asked, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck. Never mind. I need to stay clear headed. How bad has it been?”
Jordan shrugged, sliding his hand into his pant’s pockets. “Drove by your parents’ place and there were a few cars there, but it’s not as bad as it used to be.”
When he was accused of rape. The heaviness of the moment hit my shoulders as the two men continued talking. I felt smaller by the minute, not because I was being ignored, but because I hadn’t trusted him. He’d planned everything and even in the lobby of the hotel while the two check-in clerks were trying hard to look professional, they were still stealing peeks.
But who could blame them? Both men were incredibly sexy, one polished and refined even though he spoke like he hadn’t always been, and the other was known to women all over the world.
Their low, rumbling laughs caught my attention and I turned back to Jordan and Liam. Both had carefree grins and booming laughs that had their shoulders shaking. I’d missed something, but it didn’t matter. I could watch Liam laugh all day long for the res
t of my life, and never need to hear a spoken word.
Beautiful.
He caught me staring at him and tugged on my hand. “Sorry. We should get to our room, huh.”
“Whatever you want to do.”
“I’ll let you get settled. Don’t forget,” Jordan said, “you need anything, just call.”
“Got it, thanks again.” Liam smacked his shoulder and I said my goodbyes to Jordan, barely able to peel my eyes off him as we walked to the elevators. “Sorry about that,” Liam said to me once we were inside the lift. “Didn’t mean to ignore you, sometimes it’s just nice to shoot the shit with people who knew me before.”
He’d needed that. In the reflection of the elevator, all the tightness and stress had melted away, leaving the guy I’d known the last two weeks.
“I didn’t mind. It’s nice to see you normal.”
“Normal?”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “I mean, other than Anguilla, I’ve only seen you on stage and in interviews. You were different with him. Relaxed.”
“That’s because this is home.” He pushed his hands through his hair and tilted his head back. Shaking off whatever thought he had, he slid his hands to his hips, still grinning. “Jesus, I needed that. Laughs with a friend who doesn’t give a shit about my album or my money. People here are good people. Straight shooters. You do them good and they give it back tenfold.”
“Like when you help someone after they ditch a truck in the river?”
“What a bunch of punks we were then.” I was curious about the story but didn’t need to know. The worst thing I’d done in high school was sneaking a bottle of my mom’s pinot to a graduation party. I’d had two glasses and tripped on someone’s patio, breaking my high-heel shoe. Lame.
The elevator doors dinged and opened and even if I’d wanted him to tell me more about his high school antics which were assuredly worse and crazier than mine, but I bet a heck of a lot more fun, too, he guided me off the lift and to the door almost immediately to the right.