Escaping Reality (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #1)(41)

He studies me, his eyes probing, and I sense he wants to ask questions, but he doesn’t.

Damn it, he doesn’t and I want him to ask, just as I want to answer.

“Sharks only have the power you give them, baby. Own them. Don’t ever let them own you. And they’ll have to fight me to get to you anyway.”

Suddenly, I am swimming in one part fantasy, one part wicked, hot desire. His declaration checks every box on my fairy tale desire list and strokes my need for him to a full on fire. And while his words might be pure seduction, I choose to grant them the possibility. I choose the fantasy. The escape he has proven he can be for me in a way no one else ever has been.

He leans in and pressed his mouth to my ear. “I’m going to take you to my room now, and f*ck you until neither of us can walk anymore.” He eases back, searching my face for a reaction, his blue eyes blazing hot through the dim lighting of the hallway. “Any objections?”

“No,” I whisper, and am shocked at how unabashedly I reply to his wicked declaration.

“No objections whatsoever.” Not only do I want this man, I have no doubt, for at least tonight, he can make me forget the phone call. He can make me forget everything but him.

“Then let’s get out of here.” He caresses a path down my arms, raising goose bumps on my arms and I am anything but cold. In fact, the only time I am not cold is in this man’s presence. His fingers lace with mine, and as he leads me forward, this intimate act of hand-holding that is becoming familiar, creates a burn in my chest and a moment of fear. I could get used to this. I could get used to him in my life, by my side.

Entering the main dining room, I am momentarily jerked back into the world where he is not all there is and where the ghosts that swim like sharks at my feet, and in my head, live. I scan for Meg and her boss, but I do not see her, or him. Relief washes over me. I do not want to think of anything right now but Liam’s wicked promise.

***

The walk to the hotel is silent. We don’t have to speak. The air between us is both electric and soothing, a contrast that speaks to my soul.

This is what I need. He is what I need. I refuse to let anything else in. I will not melt down in a haze of pain and heartache, or fear over a phone call. I can worry about that tomorrow. Locked in Liam’s room I am safe, and in his arms my escape will be complete.

And when we approach the entrance of the hotel, I do not even make a pretense of my mockery of a story about fearing how I will look to the hotel staff. Maybe I should care for other reasons. Maybe I should fear being noticed, and with Liam, it is impossible not to be noticed, but I do not. I am with Liam and I will not be any other way in this moment of time.

“Mr. Stone,” the doorman greets Liam with a nod.

Liam inclines his chin at the man and I find myself drinking in his profile, so strong, so confident, and I envy him, this man who knew what he wanted to be in life and made it happen.

This man who knows where he has been and who he is. I know nothing of me, not even where I have really, truly been and why I am here.

Why I exist. Why I breathe. We are not alike, as I had kidded in the restaurant. We are so different that we are top and bottom, night and day, but when I am in his arms, I do not have to face these things or myself.

The short path through the lobby to the elevator feels eternal, and I am unusually frustrated when the doors to the car open and we have to wait for someone else to exit. Liam seems to mimic my urgency, pulling me into the car before I can walk in myself, and then pressing me toward the wall by the keypad, his big body framing mine.

My hands go to his chest and heat darts up my arms and across my chest. Liam slides a card into an elevator slot, directing us to the penthouse level, then flattens a hand on the wall above my head. Our eyes connect and I feel it clear to my toes, in every part of me. Still we do not speak, as if we are both afraid the spell will be broken and we will be back to goodbye.

The doors ding open and he drags his hand down my arm, and laces my fingers with his, tugging me along again as if he fears I will change my mind. After my flip-flopping from no to yes, I don’t blame him, but that is over. I crave the hot, dominant way I know he will take me away. I want to be here, to be with him.

A quick swipe of his keycard and the door is open, and he flips the light on. Liam tugs me inside and I smile as we step toe to toe, his hands on my shoulders. “Any second thoughts?” he challenges.

“About how this night started, yes. About now, none.”

“Do you want to talk about how it started?”

“Do we have to?”

“No.” He takes my hand. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

A charge sparks in the air and he starts backing down the hallway and I willingly follow until the sound of my phone ringing freezes me in place.

Urgency is like lightening in my blood, my future hanging on the unanswered line. “I have to get this.” I tug my hand from Liam’s and grab my purse from my shoulder, unzipping it with an obvious shake to my hand that Liam isn’t going to miss.

Aware that I am unsteady, a mix of champagne and panic, I lean against the wall and stare down at the unknown number. Quickly, I punch the “answer” button before I miss the call again, and I swear my heart is about to explode through my throat as I croak, “Hello.”

“Ms. Bensen?”

“Yes.”