Escaping Reality Read online

  voice that mirrors what I feel.

  “I don’t know. The right, I think.” I sound urgent. I am urgent.

  He starts walking and I bury my head in his neck, inhaling his scent,

  and tiny splinters of memory begin to pierce the fog of desire. I shove them

  away, refusing to be consumed by the past when I have this man to do it

  for me.

  I resolve to lose myself in kissing every inch of Liam’s neck, but as

  soon as I make a move, he curses under his breath. I struggled to see

  behind me. “What? What is it?”

  “No sheets, pillows, or blankets,” he informs me, and he’s already

  retraced his steps until we’ve re-entered the hallway. “Your boss should

  have made sure this was handled.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t think—”

  “Exactly,” he concludes. “I’m taking you to my hotel, where I can lick

  you from head to toe on proper bedding.”

  “What? Liam. No.” He shifts my weight and reaches for the door.

  “Stop!”

  He straightens and he does not look pleased. “Stop why?”

  My mind races for an answer, for one of the many lies I live to tell.

  “My apartment is directly across from the hotel. I’ll see the staff around the

  neighborhood. I don’t want them thinking of me as the floozy some rich guy

  brought to his bed for a night every time I walk by.”

  He arches a brow. “Rich guy? Floozy?”

  “That’s what it will seem like, Liam.”

  He scowls and lowers me to the ground, pressing me against the

  door, his hands settling possessively on my waist. “You aren’t a floozy. You

  know that, right?”

  I hate the excuse I’ve made, the lie that is my life, and the idea that it

  might push him out the door, that he might not ever touch me again, is

  unbearable enough to give me courage. “If you want to fuck me, it’s here

  and now. Otherwise, goodnight, Liam. Thanks for the ride.”

  He leans back and rests his hands on his hips, no longer touching me,

  and I am shaken by how much the loss of the connection with him affects

  me. I am used to being alone. I am used to not being touched. “This is crazy,

  Amy. Your apartment isn’t ready to be lived in.”

  My apartment. This place is not and never will be my apartment. It

  isn’t mine. It will never be mine but he can never know that. “I need to stay

  here tonight,” I say, and I am not pleased with the way my voice cracks.

  Liam notices, too. I see it in the slight flicker of his eyes. “You need to

  be here?”

  “Yes.” And my voice is no stronger now than moments before, damn

  it. “I need to be here.”

  He leans in, one hand on the wall by my face his big body close but

  still not touching me.

  Why do I need him to touch me this badly? “Then I need to be here

  tonight,” he declares. “We will be here tonight.”

  We. I know the word really means nothing. This is a night. That’s

  what I want. He’s made it clear that is what he wants. But I like the idea of

  being “we” right now. And I desperately want to get back to forgetting

  everything but him. I push to my toes and press my lips to his.

  His arm wraps my waist again and he pulls me close, his body a

  warm, welcome shelter from the nightmare I’ve left outside this door. “I’m

  not going anywhere you aren’t tonight,” he promises.

  Tonight. It’s enough. It has to be enough. It will be enough. “Good. I

  don’t want you to.”

  I’ve barely said the words, when he turns me to face the door. “What

  are you doing?” I demand, catching my weight on the door with my palms.

  He steps closer, his hips framing mine, the thick ridge of his erection

  pressed to my backside. “Preparing you.”

  “Preparing me?” I gasp. “What does that mean?”

  He tugs my jacket down my shoulders and I expect him to pull it free,

  but instead he tangles it around my arms and turns me around to face him.

  “You can free your hands, but don’t.”

  “No. No.” I knew he’d ask for too much. I knew. “I can’t do this. I

  can’t—”

  He cups my cheeks. “Deep breath, baby. I know you’re on unfamiliar

  ground and I know you barely know me, but I’m just going to make you

  come. Pure pleasure, nothing more. I know when things feel out of control

  you think you need control. But sometimes, having a safe place to give it

  away is the best way to block everything else out. I’m asking you to let me

  show you I’m that safe place.”

  But he’ll be gone tomorrow and where will I be? What place will my

  mind have traveled, and will I get back to where I was before? “Do you ever

  give away control?”

  “No. That’s not what works for me.”

  “But you think it will work for me.” It’s not a question. It’s clear what

  he thinks. I just want…more. More understanding. More…him.

  “It will work for you. Let me teach you, Amy.”

  Teach me. This is what he’d been talking about on the plane and this

  is so far into new territory, I don’t know which direction to go. I crave what

  he will show me but I fear what I will show him.

  “Do you have things you need to block out, Liam?” I ask, and I am on

  tenterhooks, waiting on an answer that feels important to me, when I do

  not even know what I expect—or want—it to be.

  “Yeah, baby,” he surprises me by saying, “I do. Knowing you need the

  escape and admitting it, if only to yourself, is control.” I am shocked by his

  admission, by his willingness to share something so personal with me. I am

  beyond aroused by this man and when his finger traces the skin at the top

  of my blouse, I feel the touch in every part of my body. “I did.” He starts

  unbuttoning my blouse. “And now I’m going to show you how we escape

  together.”

  Together. I like how that sounds, but…

  “Right here in the hallway?” I ask, and my blouse begins to gape,

  exposing the thin lace covering my breasts.

  “Right here in the hallway,” he agrees, his hot gaze raking the swell

  of my breasts, his deft fingers finishing the buttons and quickly popping

  open the front clasp of my bra. He covers my breasts with his hands, and

  nuzzles my neck at the same time, and the mix of erotic and tender ignites

  my senses and soothes my nerves. “You smell like sunflowers.”

  “My perfume,” I whisper, and unbidden, my mind my goes to New

  York, to my apartment where it, and everything else I own, and no longer

  have, are located.

  “It’s perfect,” he approves, tugging my nipples, and the unexpected,

  bittersweet ache leaves room for none of the burn for what is behind me.

  There is only the burn for now, for him, for the escape he has promised me.

  My lashes flutter and just that quickly he is on his knees, inching my skirt

  upward, and there is only the emptiness that is my ache to feel him inside

  me. I am in a haze of desire, and my skirt is somehow at my waist, his

  tongue tracing the top of one of my thigh-highs, then traveling up and

  down my leg. The urge to tug my hands free, to tunnel my finger into his

  thick, dark hair, and force his mouth wher
e I want it, is almost too much to

  bear.

  “I want to touch you,” I pant. “I need to touch you.”

  His eyes meet mine, and they are hot with desire and dark with

  command. “Not yet,” he orders, and with no warning, he wraps his fingers

  around the thin strips at my hips and tugs my panties down to my feet. I

  step out of them. Or I think I do. I don’t know. Everything is a haze of

  nerves, and desire, and need. But they are gone and Liam’s fingers are

  exploring the slick, wet center of my body, and his mouth is on my upper

  thigh, teasing me with where it might go, where it hasn’t gone and I soon

  hope it will be.

  He slips two fingers deep inside me and there are panting, moaning

  sounds filling the air that I barely recognize as coming from me, and I try to

  control myself, but I cannot. I’m not sure I’m really trying. I am so wet and

  so aroused, I am certain I will come ridiculously quickly. The idea is

  embarrassing and I try to will my body to calm. I try to resist the pleasure

  building low in my belly and spiraling into my sex, but it is growing,

  consuming me like a black hole where nothing but pleasure exists. It

  reaches out to me and drags me deep into the center of spiraling, delicious

  sensations. They overcome me, he overcomes me, and my sex clenches so

  intensely that I jerk and my knees go weak.

  Liam’s arms wrap around my lower body, holding me up and his

  tongue laps at me, fast and hard and then slowing as I soften, as my

  muscles ease, and I relax. He tears my jacket from my wrists and I wrap my

  arms around him for stability and bury my face in his neck. He drags me

  with him, until he is sitting against the door and I am straddling him and all I

  can think is how embarrassed I am. How long did I last? One minute? Two?

  Please let it have been at least five.

  “Amy,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”

  “No. I can’t.”

  “You can,” he says firmly, and his hand goes to my head, tilting my

  face to his. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

  Now I’m embarrassed that I am embarrassed. “I can’t help it.” My

  voice shakes. I’m not sure it’s just my voice. I have never felt this exposed.

  Not since…not ever. Not like this. “I was—”

  “Beautiful.” His hand moves to cup my cheek. “Absolutely beautiful

  and sexy.”

  My hand covers his. “No.” I laugh and it’s a choked, horrible sound. “I

  was fast. Really embarrassingly fast.”

  “I like that I can turn you on that easily.” He caresses my shirt and bra

  from my shoulders, and I let them fall away and my mind is mush all over

  again. And when he leans in and tenderly kisses my shoulder, his hot stare

  raking over my naked torso, my breasts are instantly heavy, and my nipples

  tight. “And I like,” he adds, his eyes lifting to mine, “that you like it when I

  look at you.” His finger lightly teases my nipple and a shiver of pure

  pleasure slides down my back. His lips curve. “And that you react when I

  touch you.”

  A pinching sensation begins to form in my chest. I’m overwhelmed

  emotionally when I should simply be aroused and nothing more. I barely

  know this man and somehow he digs deep into my soul and speaks to me

  like no one else ever has. It’s today’s events. It’s not him.

  I cut my gaze, trying to pull myself together, but he does not allow

  me an escape, not one he has not created, or offered in perfect orgasmic

  pleasure. His finger slides under my chin, tilts it up, forcing my eyes back to

  his. “Don’t hide what you feel. See, baby, that’s the thing about fucking

  properly, it’s raw and honest. There’s no time limit, or embarrassment, or

  nerves, which should exist. It’s just us fucking. Us feeling. Us being us

  together. We leave everything else at the door.” He smiles a sexy, easy

  smile and his hands slide up my back, his forehead resting against mine.

  “Well. In our case, on the other side of the door. Don’t ever be

  embarrassed with me.”

  My fingers curl on his cheek, the soft rasp of his newly formed

  whispers teasing my skin, the tension of moments before fading into the

  seduction promise of his words. “I’m trying. This is…” My voice trails off,

  and I am uncertain what I was going to say, uncertain what I really feel.

  “I’ll help you.” He drags a finger down my cheek. “The only reason I

  wanted to go next door was that I want this to be good for you. And I think

  you need to be pampered tonight.”

  “I can’t,” I whisper, and the two words, so telling, so honest, are out

  before I can stop them.

  He leans back and I am naked beyond my blouse, exposed beneath

  his too-keen inspection. And I think he can see what I heard in my voice. My

  desire to escape into his world and run from mine, if only for a little while.

  My fear for him if I were to do so. My fear now that I have let him see too

  much.

  Steeling myself for whatever questions he will ask, I wait for him to

  break the silence, hating that my passionate escape with this man will now

  be washed in the lies the rest of my life is drowning in. But there is only

  silence, and in that silence, understanding. He seems to know where he can

  push me and where he cannot, and I do not understand how a man who

  was a complete stranger yesterday knows me this well today.

  Holding my stare, he reaches behind him and tugs his shirt over his

  head, and the anticipation of seeing him naked, of being naked with him,

  drums wildly through my body, but that moment doesn’t come.

  Immediately, he puts his shirt over my head, the spicy scent of his cologne

  teasing my nostrils, mingling with my confusion. “What are you doing?” I

  ask, reluctantly shoving my arms through the sleeves.

  “Making sure you know I’m here to stay. I’ll be here with you tonight.

  I’ll be here with you in the morning. And you’ll still be wearing my shirt

  because we both know you have no clothes in your suitcase.”

  Chapter Six

  I shove away from Liam and push to my feet. “I told you, my things

  are being delivered.”

  He’s already standing in front of me, towering over me, distractingly

  bare-chested except for the perfect sprinkle of dark hair over his pecs. “I’m

  not asking for answers,” he assures me.

  “Explain it to me when you’re ready.”

  It? Explain it? “When I’m ready?” Does he not understand I will never

  be ready?

  “When you’re ready,” he repeats, removing his cell phone from his

  pocket. “I’m going to have the hotel deliver sheets and pillows.”

  “No. I didn’t invite you to stay. You were only helping me in the

  door.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want me to stay?”

  “You were supposed to help me in the door,” I repeat.

  “As I remember it, I did.”

  “Liam—”

  “You want me to stay.”

  “That’s arrogant.”

  “It’s honest.”

  Honest. I wish he would stop using that word. “You can’t stay.”

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  Now it’s a question. And yes. Y
es. I want him to stay. I should say

  “no”. The word won’t leave my mouth. “It’s not that simple.”

  He reaches for my hand and pulls me close, and I tell myself to push

  away but I don’t even try. “Let me make it simple, Amy. You want me to

  stay. I want to stay. I’m staying.” He strokes my hair. “And you need help.

  I’m going to help you, baby. You aren’t alone.”

  A tornado of emotions rolls through me, and the debris of my past is

  like glass cutting me inside out. Becoming his charity case is so far from

  being Cinderella it’s like a horror show, not a fairy tale. I’ll take alone any

  day. “No.” I hiss out the word, and this time it comes from my mouth. “I

  don’t want your help.”

  “You need my help.”

  I’m emboldened in my mix of anger and mortification. “How did we

  go from you fucking me properly to me being the needy girl you met on the

  plane you want to help?”

  “Correction. The gorgeous woman I met on a plane and still plan to

  fuck properly many times over if I have my way. And there’s someone who

  needs help in my path every day, and yes, I help where I can, but Amy, I’m

  here, with you, because you are you.”

  “Stop saying that,” I blurt. “You don’t even know who I am.”

  “But I want to.”

  And that’s the problem. I want him to and he can’t. “One night. We

  were making this one night.”

  “Were we, now?” He arches a brow and looks amused. “I don’t

  remember that agreement, so I’d better start making my case for two.

  Starting with making tonight good for you.”

  Good for me? Does he not think a world-shattering orgasm was good

  for me? Surprising me, he pulls out his cell phone and starts to dial. “Who

  are you calling at this hour?” I ask, suddenly worried. Has a Wiki page given

  me a façade of safety with Liam I shouldn’t trust? I don’t know this man and

  he knows too much about me.

  “This is Liam Stone,” he informs the person on the other end of the

  line, amusement lingering in his eyes. “I checked into the presidential suite

  about thirty minutes ago. Yes. Right.

  Everything is fine, but I’m at a friend’s apartment across the street

  and one of her moving boxes is missing. She needs queen-sized sheets,

  pillows, a blanket, towels, and toiletries. I’ll pay double whatever your