by Hannah Ford
Liam frowned and took my hand, his fingers interlocking with mine. “I thought I’d made myself clear about talking to strangers, Emery.”
“Sorry,” I said. “He just –”
“Yes, well, ‘he just’ is how you got into trouble at the casino now, isn’t it?”
“I guess,” I said, annoyed. It was going to be a long couple of days if Liam made me ask permission before I talked to anyone. When he’d first brought it up, I’d thought there was no way he was going to be able to implement anything like that, but I should have known better than to underestimate him.
“Wait,” I said, stopping just outside the clubhouse, an ornate white square with a steepled roof that was a miniature version of the main building. “We need to talk.”
Liam turned to me, the protest already starting to form on his lips.
“You said you would try,” I reminded him.
“I did,” he agreed grudgingly.
I raised my eyebrows at him until he sighed and softened his posture. “Good,” I said. “So then I want you to listen and really think about this whole thing with not allowing me to talk to anyone. It’s ridiculous and impossible.”
“I don’t want you talking to strangers.” His gaze slipped past me and scanned the area, like some kind of sniper looking for threats.
I reached over and tilted his chin back down, forcing him to look at me. I didn’t like not being able to see his eyes when I talked to him. “Am I really in that much danger?” I asked softly.
“Until I figure out the answer to that question, Emery, I will assume you are.”
I sighed and glanced around the golf course, watching as groups of men and women and even some families streamed by us, the California sun glinting off their perfectly highlighted heads. Palm trees waved in the breeze, golf carts slid by, and the thwack of balls slicing through the air reverberated through the warm air.
It was paradise. A very expensive paradise.
It was hard to reconcile that with what had happened at the casino, hard to imagine that in the midst of all this beauty there could be something sinister.
And then I noticed something.
Along the perimeter of the club, a man dressed in black, and another one stationed over the by the bench near the entrance to the clubhouse.
“Are you… are the security guards here?”
“Of course.”
“Jesus, Liam.” I bit down on my lip. “We’re being followed?”
“We’re not being followed, Emery, we’re being protected.”
It felt like a rubber band was tightening around my chest.
“I’m taking care of it,” he said. “Okay?”
“Okay.” I nodded. I wanted to say more about how he needed to let me talk to people if I needed to, but before I could, a golf cart roared up the path and came to a stop right next to it.
In it were Annabelle Rutherford, and a man who looked like an older version of Liam, with salt and pepper hair and the same tan skin as Annabelle.
“Liam!” he said when he got out of the car, slapping Liam on the back. “Nice to see you, son!”
“Dad,” Liam said. He was trying to sound relaxed, but there was a tightness in his shoulders and a stiffness in his voice.
His dad grabbed Liam’s hand for a shake, and then turned to me. “And this must be Emery. You didn’t tell us she was a knock-out, Liam.”
I flushed. It wasn’t true. No one would ever have described me as a knockout, even on my best day. And one glance around the golf course, with its bevy of tan legs and blonde hair, let me know that there were no shortage of beautiful women in the Rutherfords’ world.
“I’m Malcolm,” he said, taking my hand in his. His touch was warm, his hand smooth. He looked so much like an older version of Liam that it was almost disconcerting. The only difference was his eyes. Malcolm’s were blue, sharp like an eagle’s, while Liam’s were dark and alert.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I said. Liam’s hand tightened around my other hand, and he tugged me back toward him until I was forced to drop Malcolm’s hand. “Although I’m sorry to say that I’m not sure I’m going to make such a great impression. I’ve never played golf before.”
“It’s not that hard,” Malcolm said, giving me a wink.
Liam’s hand tightened even further around mine.
“It’s true, “Annabelle said. She was at the back of the golf cart now, rummaging around in a small gold bag. She pulled out a visor and slipped it on. “It’s really just an excuse to have a few drinks. And they’re free.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Liam said. “Golf is a game of skill and precision.”
“Don’t be a stick in the mud, Liam,” his mother said. She raised her hand in the air and as if out of nowhere, a man dressed all in white appeared next to her. “Yes, we’ll have two mimosas, please,” she said, giving me a wink. “Anything for you, Liam? Malcolm?”
“Just water,” Liam said.
Annabelle sighed, as if we were at a rock concert and Liam had just told her not to get too close to the stage.
“I’ll have a Miller Lite,” his dad said.
“Way to keep it classy,” Liam muttered under his breath.
“What’s that?” Malcolm asked.
“Nothing,” Liam said brightly. He checked his wrist. “Shall we start with the driving range? We have a few minutes.”
“Excellent idea,” Annabelle said. “It’s always good to have a little practice before you go out on the course.”
I looked doubtfully over at the driving range.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be a natural in no time,” Annabelle said, and bumped her hip against mine.
I wasn’t a natural in no time.
In fact, I was kind of a disaster.
“It’s like this,” Liam said from behind me. His arms were around my waist as he tried to show me for what seemed like the hundredth time how to hold the club. His fingertips slid over my wrist, sending butterflies through my stomach.
“Like this?” I asked. I was having trouble figuring out exactly how my hands were supposed to fit together around the club.
“Yes,” he said. His breath tickled my neck, and I shivered.
“You cold?” he asked teasingly.
“You know I’m not.”
“Then what is it?” he asked, gently sliding the strands of my ponytail through his fingers. I remembered how he’d grabbed my hair a little while ago in the hotel room, and how my panties were in his pocket.
“Shut up,” I said, “I’m trying to concentrate.” I bit my lip as Liam released me and move back over to his own mat, which was next to mine.
I pulled the club straight back the way he’d shown me, gathered all my concentration, and swung, telling myself to remember to give it a good follow-through.
I connected with the ball – surprising, since the last few times I’d totally whiffed– and in my surprise and happiness about this fact, I completely forgot about the follow-through until the last minute, when I remembered and then tried to make up for it by hooking my club up and over.
As a result, instead of the ball flying out across the range as it was supposed to, it hooked back, slamming onto someone else’s mat before bouncing back up and against the metal overhang that shaded us from the sun.
“Watch it!” a man in a pair of navy golf pants shrieked, jumping out of the way as the ball ricocheted off the ground and almost hit him in between the legs.
“Oh, relax” Annabelle said from her spot a couple of mats down, waving him off as she took another sip of her mimosa.
“Sorry,” I said, my cheeks coloring.
I saw Liam bite his bottom lip, as if he were trying not to laugh. “Well, that moves needs work,” he deadpanned.
“Hey!” I said, slapping him in the chest playfully. “You’re supposed to be teaching me. What does that say about your methods?”
He leaned down and brushed a strand of hair that had escaped from my ponytail back behind my
ear. “I think I’ve done a great job teaching you so far.”
His voice was rough and raw, and I flushed deeper, knowing he wasn’t talking about golf.
“We should probably get going,” Annabelle said, sliding her golf club into her golf bag. Despite all her protests about how you didn’t need to be that good at golf, that it was just about hanging out and drinking, she and Malcolm were great golfers, both of them with carefully honed swings. “If we’re going to make our tee time. What would you guys like for dinner? I’m going to attempt to cook!”
She said it with fanfare, like she was hoping this declaration would be met with a round of applause.
“I’ll call and the club and have the caddies sent over,” Malcolm said, reaching into his pocket for his phone.
“What would you like to eat tonight, Liam?” Annabelle pressed. “That shepard’s pie you like so much?”
“We won’t be joining you for dinner,” Liam said easily as two more golf carts pulled up next to us.
Two uniformed caddies jumped off and began loading our golf bags into the back of the carts. There was no way Malcolm had had time to call them – it was if his announcement that he was going to even make the call had somehow summoned them out of thin air.
“What do you mean you won’t be joining us for dinner?” Annabelle asked.
“Just what I said.” Liam was sliding into the seat of one of the golf carts, and I got in next to him. “I’ve arranged for Emery and I to have a private dinner in the club dining room.”
“But Emery said you’d be staying at our house,” Annabelle said. She looked slightly panicked, and the first twinge of trepidation slid up my spine. It was nothing I could put my finger on. But the expression on her face made me uneasy. It wasn’t disappointment or sadness, it was literally panic – like if we didn’t stay at her house, something would be going horribly wrong.
It was only there for a second though, and I wasn’t sure Liam even noticed.
“She did, did she?” Liam said. He turned to look at me, a vein in his neck throbbing. “Then I guess we’ll be staying at your house.”
Annabelle smiled, and Malcolm reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “Wonderful!”
We all climbed into our respective golf carts, and Liam asked the caddie that was supposed to be riding with us to take a separate cart out to the first hole and meet us there.
It was an indication of how upset he was, and my stomach flipped as Liam hit the gas and began to follow Annabelle and Malcolm down the winding pathway to the other side of the course, where the first hole was.
“She asked me if we could stay with them,” I said immediately, trying to keep my voice light. “There was nothing I could do.”
“You could have said no.”
“She’s your mother, Liam!”
“So?”
“So I couldn’t just say no to her.” I smoothed down my skirt. Now that I was sitting, I was even more aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing panties. The skirt had risen up a couple of inches, and I mashed my legs together. “It would have been rude.”
“You should have let me handle it, Emery. I’d made myself very clear about the rules when it came to my parents.”
“You know, you’re really being kind of a dick.”
“What?” His hands tightened on the wheel of the golf cart and his fingers strummed at the wheel.
“You’re. Acting. Like. A. Dick.” I enunciated every word, just to be a brat, just to let him know that I knew he’d heard me the first time.
“And you agreed to certain things, Emery.”
“Yes, and you agreed that you would try to make this normal. Do you have any idea how crazy this is for me? I’m here with you, Liam, and you kidnapped me.” Just saying the words out loud made a sick feeling rise in my throat. He’d kidnapped me. Jesus, what the fuck was I doing?
“I told you that you were free to go,” he said.
My hands clenched in frustration. “Don’t pull that. You can’t say that every time that things get weird or we get close.”
“I can say whatever I want, Emery.”
“Good,” I said. “Then why don’t you start with telling me why you were googling malpractice suits this morning?”
His eyes flashed in anger and surprise, and he pushed on the gas pedal. The cart sped up. We went over a bump and I reached up and grabbed the metal bar that was attached to the top and steadied myself. “Stop,” I said. “You’re driving like a crazy person.”
But Liam didn’t listen. Instead, he turned the wheel, forcing the cart off the golf path. We cut through a patch of trees, and then Liam swerved the wheel and jerked the cart onto another path, one that led in a completely different direction.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. “Stop!”
He said nothing, instead speeding up even more, driving until we reached a small building next to hole number nine. He turned off the golf cart, then got out and began walking toward the building.
“Where are you going?” I scrambled off the golf cart and took off after him.
When we got to the building, which said “Members Only” on a gold plated sign, Liam slid his hotel room key card into the electronic reader. The door opened and he pulled me inside.
I didn’t even have time to see where we were or what was in the room before he’d pushed me up against the wall, his strong body pinning me to the door. “You’re not to look at my computer.”
“So you can look at mine, but I can’t look at yours?” I demanded, pushing at his chest with my hands. But he was made of steel, and much bigger than I was. I’d always thought I was strong, had always felt big and oversized around most of the guys I was with, especially when Maddie was around, since she was so petite and made me feel huge by comparison.
But being next to Liam made me realize how small I was.
“Yes.” His voice was dark and rough.
“Fuck you.” I tried to move around him, but he held his body against mine, not allowing me to move.
My eyes filled with tears. Not because I didn’t want to be there, but because I did want to be there. Even now, I could feel my body responding to his, could feel my pulse jumping and the low rumble of desire deep in my belly. It was so fucked up, and I just… I almost couldn’t breathe. More than anything, I wanted to connect with him, wanted him to let me in. But every time we got close, he pushed it to the physical, and I became helpless. I hated him for that, and yet I couldn’t stop.
“Why were you googling that?” I whispered.
He tensed for a moment, and I reached up and hooked my hands around his shoulders, pulling him toward me, wanting him to know that I wasn’t going to try to get away from him, hoping that if he knew I’d relented physically, he might let me in emotionally.
I felt him settle a little bit, and then a second later, he pulled his upper body away from me, running his thumb over my cheekbone.
“I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you.”
It was the first and only time anyone had ever said something like that to me. Ever. My mother obviously didn’t care about me getting hurt – she was the one who was responsible for it. And my father knew and didn’t care.
And no one else knew.
“It was a long time ago.”
“I don’t give a shit how long ago it was.” His voice flamed with anger, and I pulled him toward me, trying to settle him again. But he couldn’t be settled. He was too worked up, thinking about what had happened to me.
His hands moved from my face down to my skirt, and he slid it up, running his hands over my thighs, over the scars. “Whoever did this to you deserves retribution.”
“There’s nothing…I don’t know that I could prove anything.”
“I’m not talking about proving anything, Emery.” His voice was strong, matter-of-fact, devoid of emotion.
“Then what are you talking about?” I asked, but as the words left my lips, I already knew. “Liam, you can’t –�
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He silenced me with a kiss, sealing his lips to mine, his hands grabbing my waist and pinning to the door behind me. His tongue moved into my mouth, hungry, probing, as if I were the antidote to whatever was bothering him.
I kissed him back, throwing my body against his, wanting to feel close to him, wanting the physical sensations to override my mind’s protests, to override the fact that this man was dangerous, that he kidnapped me, that he was not good for me.
I wanted him.
“I want you,” I whispered, the shame already blazing through my body at the admission.
He pulled back and cupped my chin hard, sliding his index finger into my mouth and hooking it into my cheek. The gesture was somehow violent and I shuddered.
“You want what?” he prompted.
“I want you to use me.” I hadn’t realized I was going to say it until it was out, until I’d said it. “Use me until you come.” My hand pressed flat against his chest, feeling his heart beat, strong and steady. My own heart was beating wildly, and I marveled at how in control he was, how he could control his body the way he controlled his emotions.
His hands encircled my wrists, applying pressure, and then he reached behind me and locked the door. By now the sound of locking doors had familiar to me, and the clicking sound made my body and pussy pulse with want.
“Take my shirt off, Emery.”
I moved toward him. The room was dim, but it was slowly coming into focus, and I got my first indication of where we were. It was a locker room of sorts, the kind of locker room that rich people used.
It was pristine, the floor marble, the lockers made of light wicker, the benches planks of wide cedar.
I took the bottom of Liam’s shirt and pulled it off him, letting my hands run over the ridges and dips of his muscles. He let my hands roam for a second longer than was necessary, then took my shoulders and pushed me to my knees.
The marble of the floor was hard and cold against my skin.
He stepped back from me and licked his bottom lip, his hand rubbing his chin.
Standing there in the dim light, he looked like a god. The only illumination came from light shining through the window of a door behind him, a door that led to another section of the tiny building. It lit him from behind, the soft rays angling off his broad shoulders.