Escaping Reality (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #1)(14)

“You’re you. That’s what counts.” He turns away again and I don’t stop him.

You’re you, he’d said. Only that’s the whole problem. I’m not me.





Chapter Five


Rich, sexy, and powerful no longer seems an adequate description.

Liam Stone is, per Wikipedia, a reclusive billionaire and philanthropist who lost both of his parents at a young age and was taken in by one of the most famous architects who ever lived. Liam inherited his mentor’s extreme wealth and apparently, his skill. At the young age of thirty-one (apparently most architects are older when, and if, they become established) Liam is the highest-paid living architect, and is considered an architectural prodigy.

Setting the iPad aside, I press my fingers to my throbbing temples.

It’s almost comical that I actually thought Liam could be my handler. He has far more to occupy himself with than little ol’ me, and I really don’t know why he’s hovering around me at this point. Well, except maybe he just wants to have sex. I’m not above admitting it’s on my mind. Heck, maybe I should just embrace a potential one-night stand and let Liam take me away for a few hours. Whatever awaits me tomorrow will still await me tomorrow. It might even stop me from melting down. So why do I feel so let down that this thing with him isn’t more? I can’t have more. There is no “more” for me. I went to the door to get rid of him. When he comes back I should pretend I’m not here.

A knock sounds and I discard the idea of not seeing Liam again, jumping to my feet and rushing past the kitchen. Afraid I might talk sense into myself, I waste no time opening the door, and then almost swallow my tongue with the impact Liam Stone has on me standing there. He might be a billionaire, able to afford the finest of fine, but the man does a pair of faded Levi’s and a t-shirt as right as they can be done. And he does it while looking at me like I’m the dinner and he’s going to lick me off the plate.

“Done with your research?” he queries.

“Yes. I read your Wiki page.”

“And?”

“You’re rich, talented, and why are you at my door again?” And why am I not sending you away?

“Because you haven’t invited me in yet.”

“You sure don’t seem like a recluse to me.”

His lips quirk and he straightens, and before I can blink he’s advanced on me, his hands coming down on my shoulders, his big body crowding into the apartment. “Liam,” I object. Sort of. Actually, I’m not sure I object at all.

“Amy,” he counters.

My nerves prickle. “Don’t do that.”

He kicks the door shut, pressing me against the wall, his powerful thighs encasing mine.

“Do what, baby?”

The endearment does funny things to my stomach and so does the solid wall of his chest beneath my fingers. “Mock me when I say your name.”

“Ah, now, little Amy, I assure you I am not mocking you. I already told you how hot it makes me when you say my name.”

I am so not skilled at this flirtatious word game he is playing, so I resort to what I do well. “I didn’t invite you in.”

“No?” he asks, his eyes alight with sexy amusement.

“No,” I reply and while I am nervous, out of my league with a man this experienced, this incredibly sexy, his playfulness somehow takes the edge off.

“Yes, well,” he says, his voice holding a hint of evil mischief, “I prefer privacy when I kiss you. We recluses are like that.”

My nerves shoot to the sky. Kiss me. He wants to kiss me. I want him to kiss me. “You’re no recluse,” I accuse, wondering how the Wiki got that so very wrong.

His eyes darken, narrow. “Then how would you describe me, Amy?”

he asks, his voice low, gravelly. Affected. By me. The idea is exciting and frightening all at once.

“Demanding,” I say, and I sound as breathless as I feel.

His fingers curve around my neck, tugging my mouth near his, teasing me with the promise of a kiss. “You have no idea just how demanding I can be.” And with that erotic promise, his tongue slices into my mouth, a silky, hot caress that seems to touch every inch of my now tingling body. The taste of him, of hot passion and desire, sizzles through my senses, and my fingers splay on the hard wall of his chest.

A low groan escapes his throat and his hand caresses over my hip and palms my backside, pulling my hip flush with his, his thick erection pressing into my belly. “I’ve wanted to taste you since the moment I saw you in the terminal,” he murmurs, and his breath is warm, a wicked seduction against my mouth.

“Feel free to do it again,” I whisper, and I am surprised at the boldness of my words. But then, I’ve never had anyone as tantalizingly male as Liam Stone to inspire me.

“I’m going to do a whole lot more than kiss you, baby,” he promises, and his mouth covers mine, his tongue once again pressing past my lips, and I feel the lick between my thighs, in the deep throb of my sex. I have never wanted like this and I like it far too much to let inexperience, or a note on a bathroom mirror, interfere. This is one night for me. One night.

Where that concept had bothered me before, it feels remarkably liberating now.

My nerves have nothing on my desire to lose myself in this amazing man, who is like no one I have ever known, who I will probably never see again. Determined to enjoy every minute with him, and every inch of him while I’m at it, I sink into the kiss, my tongue caressing his, drinking him in.