Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
She resisted the impulse to reach for her forearm and pinch herself as she and Liam sat at the bar alongside Hans. Was she really on a covert op with Liam, and had he only two hours ago declared he’d fallen for her?
She did a mental pinch instead. Another two for good measure. I’m awake.
Liam ordered a beer for himself and a glass of wine for her.
She pushed her fingers through her still damp hair and tried to remember every detail of her conversation with Liam just before they’d headed to the bar. Liam had asked her to take the lead, and she didn’t want to screw up.
They’d discussed the plan as she’d hurriedly put on one of her new outfits. A black fitted sleeveless dress that stopped shy of her knees, a dress Liam obviously found sexy. He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her.
And as they were about to leave the suite, he’d pinned her to the door, and slid his hands up her thighs to grab her panties and lowered them to her ankles. Crouching before her, he’d tossed her panties over his shoulder, then buried his face under her dress and between her thighs.
“Stay just like this. I want you wet and ready for me when we get back,” he’d said once standing tall after only a few seconds of teasing her. He’d then leaned in and taken her mouth in a searing kiss, giving her an erotic taste of herself. “You make me crazy, you know that?”
“Isn’t there somewhere we’re supposed to be?”
“I want to care, but—”
“You do care, and I love that about you.” She’d grinned. “We better go.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And when they were alone in the elevator shortly after, he’d pulled her against him and squeezed her ass cheeks to the point of a delicious kind of pain, all the while kissing her with his sinfully delectable mouth.
She crossed her legs at the memory, trying to tamp down the burn of desire.
But when her eyes fell upon a well-worn photo clutched in Hans’s hand, his barely eaten steak forgotten, her ill-timed sexy thoughts came to an abrupt halt.
“She’s stunning.” Another furtive look revealed the picture was of Talia Alvarez, and she was the spitting image of Elaina. “She, uh, looks familiar.”
Hans shifted her way, his eyes fraught with loss. “If you’re here for the event tomorrow, you may have heard of her.”
“The Golden Minds Gala? Is she one of the honorees?” she asked, playing her role even though a snag of guilt caught inside of her. She was worried she might totally unravel at the man’s unmistakable melancholy.
He carefully slid the photo back into his wallet and grabbed his fork, rolling it between his fingers. “I’m giving a speech tomorrow, in which I will talk about her. She had a brilliant mind.”
“Did something happen to her?”
“She died in a car accident in Chile a few months back,” he answered, his voice somber.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure she’d be touched you’re honoring her in your speech. Were you close?”
He kept his eyes on his plate. “We were friends a long time ago, but we lost touch. Her death is a tragedy, and I can only hope she’ll be replaced by . . .”
Elaina?
“I’m Hans Zimmermann.” He set his fork on the plate and extended his palm.
She smiled and introduced herself, then leaned back slightly to introduce Liam on the bar stool next to her.
“We had hoped for seats at your table tomorrow, but we got our tickets at the last minute. We’re sitting with”—she snapped her fingers in the air as if trying to catch the name in her mind—“Jeremiah something.”
“No idea who he is,” Liam added and motioned for the bartender. “A refill of whatever he’s having, please.”
“Thank you.” There was still a faint hint of German in his accent, even though he’d moved to the U.S. a long time ago.
“Where do you work now? Anything exciting?” she asked, keeping up with her role and her deeper-than-deep Southern accent.
Hans glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his bodyguard. “I can’t talk about it.” He took a sip of his newly delivered drink. “Do you have kids?” he asked, taking her by surprise with the sudden subject change.
Liam’s hand went to her thigh at the question, and he gently squeezed.
“I want them someday,” she softly admitted.
“Many people attending the event tomorrow believe our future is dependent upon today’s children. It’s up to this next generation to save our planet. It’s why all the money raised tomorrow will go to funding scholarships to the world’s brightest minds.”
“And do you also hold that belief?” she asked, sensing doubt in his voice.
“People can’t be trusted to do the right thing. Not even kids.” He took another drink. “Selfish. Self-centered. Corrupt.” He set his glass back down and pressed his palms to the counter as if preparing to push away and stand. “People are weak,” he said in a low voice. “Even me.”
“I don’t under—”
“Have a good evening.” He stood and tossed some bills on the counter.
“What do you think?” she asked Liam.
“He looks like a man who’s very lost.”
She reached for his hand atop her thigh and held it. “Why do you say that?”
He lowered his gaze to their clasped palms. “Because I was that man until I met you.”
“About that dress.” He peeled his shirt over his head, exposing the muscles that looked as if every line and curve had been carved into perfection by a master sculptor.
“Shouldn’t we call Jessica? Tell her about the conversation?”
His eyes were on the hem of the dress as she lifted the material up. She was growing wet with his heated gaze on her.
“Give me five minutes to finish what I started before we call.” With each step he took, she walked backward until she hit the wall.
“But the mission,” she said under her breath.
“I’ve spent over fifteen years putting missions first.” His pupils expanded. “I just want a few minutes to enjoy what’s right in front of me.”
“Okay,” she said with a nod, her heart breaking as she thought about how much Liam had sacrificed over the years for his country. A man of valor and strength.
When he fell to his knees and fisted the dress—lifting the material to her hips, and darted his tongue along her wet center—every other thought in her mind was instantly obliterated.
Her focus narrowed down to his face, to the stunning man before her. A man she truly never wanted to imagine living without.
The base of her skull hit the wall as he licked and sucked. She grabbed hold of his head, not only to keep him in place as she rode out the orgasm but to keep herself from sliding down the wall.
“Liam,” she cried as she shuddered and came.
He planted kisses from her thigh down to her ankle as if bowing before her. “Much better. Now we can call Jessica.” He stood with a devious smile.
She shifted her dress back in place. “How are you going to focus like that?” She pointed to his tented jeans.
“I’m hoping by the time we’re done with the call, you’ll have had enough time to recover, and you’ll be ready for me.”
“Oh?” She smoothed her palm over his trimmed beard. “I think I’ll always be ready for you.”
“Always?” He cocked a brow as her hands slid down to the buckle of his jeans, and she unfastened it then popped the top button.
“Always,” she whispered before kissing him.