Escaping Reality (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #1)(60)

“This isn’t what I ordered. I’m going to the bar. Be right back.”

Great. Alone with Jared again. And why hasn’t Liam texted me back?

“Where are you from, Amy?” Jared asks.

On a conflicting note, I’ve been craving a chance to talk to him about my hometown and avoided it at the same time. Apparently, I’m going to talk to him about Texas. “New York. You’re from Texas, you said?”

“Yes. Ever been there?”

“No. Too many pickup trucks and football fans.” Lie. That is a part of Texas that makes it Texas, and I miss it.

“And beer.” He lifts his bottle and takes a drink. “Us Texans like our beer.”

Not this one. “You can keep it. I don’t like it.”

“Ever tried this one?” He shows me the bottle with some sort of special import label.

“Never.”

“Try it.” He offers me his bottle. “It’s a different taste altogether.”

He wants me to drink from his bottle? “No. No thank you.”

Meg returns. “Ohhh, I’d love to try it.”

He hands her the bottle and she takes a sip. “German?”

“Yes. German.”

“Try it, Amy,” Meg encourages. “German beers are completely different from the American version.”

Jared hands me the bottle, a challenge in his eyes. Somehow, I feel as if me drinking from his bottle is some sort of ploy to tear down a wall he thinks will let him get closer to me, but I feel like a deer in headlights, with both him and Meg watching me.

I grab the bottle and take a drink, the bitter taste filling my mouth, and I grimace a moment before awareness prickles down my spine. I glance up to find Liam striding toward us, and he is not only the picture of male perfection in his gray suit, his dark hair neatly groomed, his goatee finely trimmed, his jaw is set solid, his eyes hard. He’s pissed. He saw me drinking from Jared’s bottle.

He stops beside me and takes my hand. “Let’s go, Amy.”

I’m appalled. Did he really just order me to leave? “Liam—”

He lowers his head and presses his mouth to my ear. “Let’s go now.”

My emotions are a rollercoaster ride of anger, embarrassment, and more anger. I slip my briefcase and purse on over my shoulder and scoot out of my seat, and I don’t look directly at Jared or Meg. “I forgot we had a dinner meeting tonight.”

“Amy—” Jared starts.

“Don’t,” Liam says sharply.

I pull away from him and start walking for the door. He’s behind me. I don’t have to look to know. I feel the predator in him. Well, he’s going to find out that this deer in headlights just grew fangs.





Chapter Eighteen


I exit the restaurant and I don’t stop walking. I’m going to the apartment I swore I wouldn’t go back to anytime soon, not his hotel. I’ve spent too much time feeling like I don’t own me, and now he wants to own me. No. No, this is not going to happen. I’ve been “insane” over this man.

Clearly insane.

I’m crossing the street when Liam shackles my wrist, claiming control and all but dragging me with him, the big bully. “Let go, Liam.”

“Not a chance. Not until we’re in the room.”

“I’m not going to the room with you.”

He doesn’t even look at me. “Like hell you’re not.”

“I’ll make a scene.”

He stops at the curb on the other side of the road, and turns to me, his eyes hard, his voice crackling with barely contained anger. “No. You won’t.” It’s a command he expects me to follow, solidified by the way he starts walking again, tugging me along with him.

“Liam—”

“Don’t talk, Amy. You’ll only piss me off more.”

He’s pissed off? I’m the one who has been embarrassed and treated like crap. I’m the one who is angry. He won’t intimidate me. He won’t control me like this. He wants to go at it with me, I’m in. Bring it on.

We reach the hotel in record speed. The doorman says hello to us and Liam doesn’t even look at him, and I’m pretty sure we’re a walking billboard for a couple about to go to war. Oh, yes. We are getting good at making scenes and getting noticed. I’m failing miserably at staying off the radar, and I have Liam to thank for that. No, I amend again. I have me to thank for that. I let this happen. I let him happen, and I have to do something about it.

We enter the elevator and he slides his card through the panel and then pulls me hard against him, forcing my hands to his chest, with nowhere else to go. My legs settle against his, and damn it, I am affected, wet and aching for him, and this only serves to spike my anger a notch higher. He’s controlling me and I don’t like it. I can feel him willing me to look at him and I refuse.

As if punishing me for my insubordination, his hand slides down my back and cups my backside, caressing deeply, and I swear I feel it like a stroke between my thighs. Barely containing a moan, I curl my fingers around his shirt and I want to scream with the injustice of how aroused I am.

The doors to the elevator slide open and my heart jackhammers. The adrenaline pouring through me is like acid in my blood, burning me with anticipation. The swipe of his card on his door feels eternal, almost slow motion, and then Liam is dragging me inside the hallway and I am against the wall.