Chapter Thirteen
Willingly tied to the door and at his mercy, I am remarkably without
fear, and there is a burn in my belly. Cool air conditioning teases my
nipples, a striking contrast to the heat in Liam’s gaze as it rakes over my
body. The tie is snug silk on my wrists, a promise I cannot escape whatever
Liam intends for me. I do not want to escape what he intends for me.
Anticipation is liquid fire between my thighs. I am aroused, wet, and
aching with an emptiness only he can fill. It is beyond erotic to allow him
this control, and for someone who often feels I do not know myself, I am
suddenly aware of why his control pleases me. When I am with him like
this, I don’t have to calculate what comes next. He will do that. He is doing
that. I trust him to the degree of allowing myself to be tied up with my
hands over my head, when I do not trust anyone.
Finally, Liam begins to undress, and I am spellbound by this powerful,
sexy man, downright hungry to see him completely naked, stripped down in
all his masculine glory, a pleasure I didn’t have the night before. There was
just us ripping whatever clothes off we could to come together. This time is
slower, more luxurious.
He toes off his shoes and slides his jacket down his shoulders. Almost
impatiently, it seems, he unbuttons his shirt. Or maybe it is simply me who
is impatient. Adrenaline pours through me as dark, springy hair peeks from
the fine material and finally, his shirt is gone. My mouth goes dry at the
sight of taut skin over flexing muscle and when his hand goes to his pants, I
suck in a breath and I do not breathe again until he is without clothes,
standing before me, his thick erection pulsing thickly in front of him.
I take in the sight of him, tall and finely carved, and he is truly a work
of art, the definition of masculine beauty but I hone in on my obsession,
one that I am sure many women have shared. The tattoo. My gaze tracks
the path of the equation that trails down, down, down, and I swallow hard
at where it ends and he is, ah, well, hard. Liam has singlehandedly made
math sexy for a girl who has despised every number she’s ever met.
Liam turns away and my heart thunders in my chest as he opens a
dresser drawer and I anticipate what he might produce, but I am
remarkably unafraid for a woman tied to a door. I am quite sure I should
be, though. What if it’s a whip or chains, or…what do people do when they
tie up a lover? He pulls out a box and a pinch begins in my chest as I digest
the packaged condom he’s removed from inside. I am suddenly
excruciatingly insecure, aware that there have been many before me, few
before him.
He tears open the package, and I drop my head between my
shoulders, hiding the emotions expanding where the pinch had been. I am
not sure why this is affecting me this way but it is. I am over my head. Way,
way over my head. I’m probably not even his first bathroom-door affair.
Maybe this very tie has been around another woman’s wrists. I do not
know what to do or say or how to be. I do not even know my own name
half the time. I am not—
Liam squats in front of me, and the sight of his strong thighs and
thick erection cuts off my rambling thoughts, and I struggle to gain my
composure and recreate some version of Amy that is worthy of this man
even if I, myself, am not.
His finger slides under my chin, and he levels my gaze with his. “I
bought the condoms today for us, if that’s what you’re wondering. For us,
Amy. I don’t stockpile and have women in my hotel room ever night. I don’t
have women to my room, or let them inside my life, at all.
Never. Just you.”
He reads me like an open book I thought I’d shut years before. “Me,”
I whisper, reminded of his declaration that we are raw and honest or we
are nothing.
“You,” he agrees. “And us.”
Us. I have never truly been a part of an “us”, but the idea strokes a
raw nerve ending, then caresses it with possibilities. I wet my suddenly dry
lips and Liam leans in and brushes his mouth over mine before he murmurs,
“And we need to get you to a doctor and on the pill.”
“That takes weeks,” I whisper, and the words vibrate with the same
wistful quality I’d had earlier on the sidewalk, a wistfulness that I cannot
seem to control any more than my feelings or reactions to Liam.
He cups my face and kisses me again, a soft brush of his mouth
against mine, and I can feel myself sigh inside. This is what gets to me with
Liam, the way he is so tender, and yet so dominating. It works for me. He
works for me. So does the way he’s trailing kisses over my jaw, teasing my
neck, then my ear. “Until then,” he voices, all velvet and seduction, “I’ll be
fantasizing about the moment the only thing wrapped around me is you.”
My sex clenches with his words, slickness gathering on my bare
thighs, and I decide right then that no woman knows what she has been
missing until she has a man like Liam say such wicked things to her while he
is naked in all his male perfection.
He leans back to study me, his blue stare probing, intimate. “Have
you ever been bound before?”
I laugh and the sound is nervousness personified.
He doesn’t laugh. His hands frame my face. “And you let me tie you
up.” It is a statement, not a question, and there is a husky rasp to his voice
that tells me he is affected by this realization.
“Yes,” I confirm, knowing somehow this is what he desires of me.
His hand reaches behind me, cupping my backside, and he pulls me
to him. His shaft settles between my thighs, and I soften instantly against
him. “And I’m just barbaric enough to like the idea of being the first of
many things.”
He’s said something to this effect before. It’s just as arousing now as
it was then. “You do seem to have a bit of a liking for the word ‘teacher’.”
He caresses up my back and closes his hand on the back of my head,
pulling me to him, his cheek finding mine, his voice low, raspy, as he
murmurs, “I haven’t even begun to start teaching you, Amy. We have not
even begun to go where I plan to take you.” He drags his lips over my jaw
and his mouth lingers a breath from mine. “You trusted me with your body
by letting me bind you. I’m going to make sure you don’t regret it. That’s
step one, baby.”
I do not know what he means by “step one”, but his seductive purr
on the word “baby”
does funny things to my chest and his lips begin to trail over my jaw,
teasing me with the promise of a kiss that I hope soon will follow. And it
does. His mouth finds mine, a feather-light touch, a lick of his tongue, and I
moan with the barely there, teasing taste of him.
“I do like those little sounds you make,” he murmurs, rewarding me
with another brush of his tongue against mine. I moan again, unable to hold
it back, ultra-sensitive to all this man does to me. I’m relieved when he
deepens the kiss, when he takes me to that sweet spot where only he
exists. This is what I want. To be lost in him, and I arch into him, needing
him closer, craving that connection. Seeming to answer my plea, Liam
inches forward, leaning me against the door and cradling me more fully on
his lap, and his hands are all over me, teasing me, driving me wild. The need
to touch him spirals through me, and I tug at my hands, but there is no
escape.
There is only the growing ache of need inside me.
His lips leave mine, and I reach for his mouth, only to be denied.
“Untie me. I need to touch you.”
He frames my face with his hands and I need them to be other
places. Lots of other places. “You’re not ready to be untied.”
I laugh without humor. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“What are you thinking about right now?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“The first thing that comes into your head. Don’t censor, just speak.
Say it. Now. What are you thinking of now?”
“Your tattoo.”
“Anything else?”
“Touching you.”
“And?”
“Ripping the tie off my arms.”
He lowers his forehead to mine and his hands brush my breasts,
tease my nipples. “And now?”
“How much I don’t want you to stop.”
“That’s the idea. Escape, baby. The lack of control i s control. When
you’re hanging on each moment, anticipating what comes next, it leaves
room for nothing else. That’s what I want to do for you.”
I think of his comment about sharks and the certainty there is more
to his story than I know. “And who helps you escape, Liam?”
“We’re going to the same place, Amy. I’m not standing outside
watching.” He dips his head low and his lips find my neck and then my ear.
“I’m right here with you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, lavishing in the deep stroke of his hand down
my back and the seductive reply of his words in my mind. Right here with
you. That phrase shimmers down my spine and settles deep inside me. Liam
is with me. In a tiny window of time, he has slipped past every wall I’ve
erected.
“Look at me, Amy.”
I pry my lashes open at his soft command and I feel a punch in my
chest when my eyes meet his. I am going to fall hard for this man. I already
have.
He leans in and kisses me, pressing my breasts together before
dragging to tease my
nipples, then dragging his mouth down my chin, to my neck and
chest until his tongue laves one of my nipples, fulfilling a wish I so desired. I
suck in a breath at the rough, wet heat suckling me, moving from one
swollen tip to the next, mercilessly licking, nipping, teasing, and I can take
no more.
“Liam, enough. Please. I need—”
“What I say you need,” he finishes, his hands cupping my backside,
lifting my belly to his mouth, dipping his tongue in my belly button, and
then licking all the way to my hipbone.
Nipping the sensitive flesh, licking again.
“Liam, damn it,” I pant, and I never curse, but then I am never this
undone. “You are making me insane.”
He smiles against my belly. “That’s the idea.”
My quaking body disagrees. “No. No, it’s not. Pleasure is the idea.”
“Pleasure,” he repeats, his eyes dancing with way too much male
satisfaction for me to hope he’s done tormenting me. “I thought that’s
what I was providing. Let’s see. How about this?” He lowers his head and
licks my clit, and I gasp, then whimper as he swirls his tongue around me
several times, then teasingly asks, “Is that pleasure?”
I squeeze my thighs around his shoulders. “Stop tormenting me.”
He blows on my clit. “It’s called foreplay.”
My lashes flutter but I manage to glare at him. “No, it’s—”
His mouth closes down on me, and waves of pleasure ripple through
me. I tug at my hands, desperate to hold his head, to make sure he doesn’t
stop this time. His fingers slide inside me, stretching me, caressing me. And
his tongue, his amazing tongue, is both sandpaper and silk, stroking me to
the edge, then masterfully soothing the ache. Over and over he licks me to
the shadow of bliss, and pulls it back.
“Liam,” I gasp, unable to take it anymore. I am trembling with how
close I am and how far at the same time. Needing him to give me relief, but
he does not. His mouth leaves my clit and he slides up my body, shifting our
hips and settling his cock thickly between my thighs, his searing stare
meeting mine. “We come together,” he says, and then presses inside me,
stretching me, filling me, and I can barely breathe for the pleasure. I’d
thought I’d wanted the sweet bliss his tongue had promised but in this
moment, I know I did not. This is what I want. Together. He is where I need
him but he does not move. He holds us there, his hands firmly on my hips,
his shaft deep in my sex, and challenges me with, “What do you want,
Amy?”
“Everything,” I pant. “You. I want you.”
His eyes darken, and he leans in, bringing our mouths a breath apart.
“Everything?”
It is a question and a demand, and in this moment, perhaps in every
moment since I met him, there is only one answer. “And more.”
He does not move. We do not move. There is a spike of energy
between us, a shift that I have never experienced, and do not understand,
but it is like a wicked burn in my body, a craving unsatisfied. “More,” he
echoes a moment before he kisses me, and I taste the same burn in him,
the same need. He molds me closer, arching into me, and begins to pump
his hips. Time falls away. There is just the wild passion consuming us, and
he is touching me, moving inside me, and I am going crazy with my hands
tied. I want to touch him. I need to touch him.
He is on edge too, his grip tightening around my hips, his face buried
in my neck, and with a guttural moan, he pushes harder, deeper, and my
sex is one deep pulse around his shaft that begins a wave of pleasure and
spreads through my entire body. I am there. I am falling, tumbling, and
finally, I crash into that sweet spot. He pumps into me again, and I feel the
shudder run through his body, or maybe it is me who is shuddering. I do not
know how long it is before we melt into one another.
He reaches up and unties my hands and my arms fall around his neck.
Liam shifts us and strokes the hair from my eyes. “We aren’t anywhere near
finished. You know that, right?”
“Promise?”
“Oh yeah. I promise. And I never make a promise I don’t keep.”
He shifts his weight and somehow stands up with me still wrapped
around him, him still inside me. I bury my face in his neck, inhale the scent
of him, the prickling of memories trying to surface fading into his words
earlier tonight. Tell me who’s scaring you and I promise you, Amy, I will
make them go away. Or they will make him go away. I can’t let that
happen.
***
I wake to the morning light and the soft rumble of Liam’s voice from
someplace not far away, and I smile with the realization that I am naked
and I did not have a nightmare last night.
Thanks to Liam, I am certain who spent the night with his big body
wrapped around mine. His big, sexy body, I amend. I am sated and relaxed.
Safe. I feel safe with Liam.
Rolling over in the big, comfortable bed, I watch the curtain flutter
over the sliding glass window only a few feet away, confirming Liam’s
location. “I’m not meeting with him today, Derek,” I hear him say, sounding
more than a little displeased. “Forget it. I have plans I’m not giving up for
that jackass. Monday.” A pause. “Yeah, well, he’s lucky I’m motivated to
stay around Denver for a few months. And no. That’s none of your
business.”
Motivated to stay around Denver for a few months. I revel in these
words, savoring them like I would fine wine in a bottle soon to be empty.
But he will eventually return to New York, where you can never go again, I
remind myself. Eventually he will be gone.
“Good morning.”
My gaze lifts from the bed where it has fallen, to where he has
parted the curtain and is standing in the opening of the door, dressed in
nothing but a pair of blue pajama bottoms. I sit up, hugging the sheet to
myself, but I am not shy in my inspection of his body, gobbling up every
detail of this hot man I’ve had the pleasure of waking up to, from his lean,
hard body to his lightly shadowed jaw line that only makes his goatee
sexier. “You, Liam Stone, are too good looking for the safety of womankind,
and I probably look bad enough to scare small children and a few timid
animals, too.”
He laughs, and it is deep and wonderful and far better than sunshine
or cinnamon rolls in the morning. He starts toward me and I hold up my
hand. “No. Wait. Stay right there.”
Stopping in his steps, his brow furrows, and I can’t believe I’m about
to do this, but that savor-him-until-he’s-gone thing is ripe in my mind.
Throwing aside the sheet, I expose my naked body, and I don’t let the blast
of heat from Liam’s inspection slow me down. I rush forward and stand in
front of him and I am as I was last night. Exposed in the most erotic of ways.
Liam arches a brow, a question in his gorgeous blue eyes I could
drown in, and probably will before he goes back to New York. I answer his
inquiry by dropping to my knees and pressing my mouth to his tattoo, my
hands settling on his lean hips. He sucks in a breath, his body tensing ever
so slightly, and I smile against a taut muscle. I have surprised him and this
pleases me.
My gaze lifts to Liam’s and the heat I see in his stare only serves to
empower me. I lick his stomach and drag my finger down the line of
numbers until it dips beneath his waistband, a quick tease before it is gone.
“Now,” I say, “I am going to have to kiss my way down—”
A knock sounds on the door and Liam groans. I jump to my feet. “You
have company?”
He wraps me in his arms. “Room service. I thought waking you up to
breakfast in bed
was a good thing until you started licking my tattoo.”
“You were going to wake me up to breakfast in bed?”
“Then make you the second course.” Another knock sounds and he
gives me a quick kiss.
“Just to be clear. Sexy is me waking up to you in my bed and looking
just like you do now, tattoo licking optional, though not discouraged. Grab
one of my shirts. I don’t want any sneak peeks from room service. I plan to
keep you for myself.” He sets me aside and heads toward the other room.
I stare after him. He plans to keep me for himself. I fight the urge to
call him back and make him seal those words with a promise.