Chapter 10
Liberty in my arms — and it is by far the biggest tactical error of the night.
What the hell was I thinking?
Your dick was doing the thinking, a voice echoes inside my head.
Unable to say a word, I lower her feet to the ground, instantly missing the weight of her in my arms.
“This is incredible,” she says excitedly as she breezes into the gigantic underground waterpark.
But all I can think is how right and wrong this situation is.
Walking away from me, Liberty is smiling, holding her hands up in the air.
“Wow, it’s huge.”
Yep, my dick is about to bust a seam in my jeans.
The woman is not talking about that. Has barely even glanced at my body below my neck, thankfully. Hopefully that means she hasn’t noticed the semi I’ve been sporting for the last ten minutes.
She’s awestruck by the cavernous pool level of the resort.
It’s impressive. But I have eyes only for her.
I couldn't care less about the natural rock formations surround heated water that gleams under recessed lighting.
At any other time I’d be impressed with the waterfall that cascades from natural stone, creating an ambient sound that echoes off the walls.
I’m barely aware of the steam rising in lazy curls, and the scent of pool treatment mixes with mineral tones from the rock.
“I had no idea this was down here. It’s really special.” She whispers, but the sound caries all around me.
“Yeah.” I swallow about five times, trying to get my heart to ease off of my jugular.
“There's a hot tub behind the waterfall.” I finally say. “Gym's through there. There’s also a shooting range. Workshop in the sub-basement if you need to fix anything or—”
I’m yammering.
“Next up, the bedrooms?” She asks, turning to look at me with raised brows.
“Something like that.” I mutter under my breath, keep your shit together, man.
She walks alongside me, smiling, humming. For God’s sake, she’s fucking sweet, and adorable. And my ruin.
I need a way out of doing bedroom tours because I do not belong within fifty feet of a bed when she’s nearby.
But here we are.
The bedroom wing branches off the main level. Eight doors, four on each side in this wing.
Liberty opens the first door.
The room beyond is stunning. King bed with slate-gray bedding. Sitting area near the carved stone wall with veins of shimmering crystal running through it.
Everything’s decorated for Christmas. This room has a snowy pinecone theme.
There’s an Olympic-size en-suite bathroom visible through an open door, complete with giant soaking tub and glass-enclosed shower.
“This is so magical, I can’t believe Marshall and his partner bought this resort.”
“The whole place is plush.” I back toward the door. “I should…uh. Wait out here.”
“Spence, hey, wait.” She turns to face me, her fingers pressed against her thighs. “If you’re leaving because you’re worried that I don’t feel safe in a bedroom with you, please don’t think that.”
Stiffly, I take another step back.
“I know I'm safe with you,” she says quietly, watching me with a studious gaze.
I nod, my neck muscles clenching as I do. “Good. Let’s get going; we have a lot of rooms to cover, and we’ve got a fuckton of food to eat. There’s a whole section of food in the fridge labeled for tonight.”
She smiles, shaking her head. “Are you one of those guys who are constantly thinking about what they’re going to eat and when?”
Heat erupts at the tips of my ears. I choke out, “Busted.”
But she doesn’t know that right now; she’s the only meal I want, and that damned king-sized bed is a siren’s song.
Or maybe she does. That grin on her maddeningly sexy lips turns sly. “Lead the way, Boss.”
We go room-to-room. Agony. Every single beautiful bedroom drives another hot stake into my groin.
My dick is throbbing in time with my headache as she talks about the furnishings. The beds. The plush towels. And I don’t really hear any of it.
“Uh-huh.” I reply to something as my mouth does this weird salivating thing it’s been doing for the last ten minutes.
I’m about to come unglued when she leans against the wall in the hallway. “Okay, you were right. It’s a lot of ground to cover. I’m tired. Or maybe it’s the liquor.”
My dick really jams against my zipper. It’s because I’m stepping in close. The danger zone.
“Need another lift.”
She blinks up at me, her lips damp and lifted in a playful way, and I wonder for a beat if I’ve been played.
“Little girl,” I warn, wrapping one of the tendrils of her hair around my fingers, pulling her toward me with a gentle tug. “You’re playing with a dangerous weapon.”
“I’m tired of playing it safe all the time. Maybe a little danger would be good for me.”
She’s breathy, her color warm, her eyes scanning my expression. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to snatch her up and press her against the wall to positively ravish her.
“I’m on thin ice here, Liberty,” I rasp, close enough to breathe her exhales.
“Me too,” she whispers, licking her bottom lip. A shiver running through her.
My free hand settles on the wall above her head. “How is this game going to end, angel?”
“I don’t know…”
I’m terrified of what could happen.
Her hand rises slowly and she traces a single finger down the center of my chest stopping above my navel, pressing my T-shirt against the tense muscles there. “You tell me?”
I lean in.
She tips her chin up more to look at me and sends my heart into a complicated, completely abnormal rhythm.
“I’d like to fuck you, Liberty, but you deserve better than that.”
Her response isn’t verbal, but her breathing increases in depth and speed, and her eyes become dark, mostly pupil.
“I know you’ve had a rough go with men in the past,” I say in a quiet tone.
“A man,” she corrects. “Not men.”
For a second I process this. Is her fuckhead high school abuser the only man she’s ever been with?
“Has Justice taken care of him?”
“He’s in jail,” she says quickly, her gaze dropping from mine.
But I don’t let her go there, wherever that place is. I tip her chin up, holding her face in my palm. “That’s the past, sweetheart. Let’s leave it out of here. I’m not bringing my ghosts with me tonight.”
“Your girlfriend?”
I nod, tracing my thumb along her jaw. “It was my fault she died, and that’s one of the reasons I won’t cross the line with you, baby girl. You deserve—”
“Happiness. Safety.” She plows right over my words.
How do I respond to that, because that’s exactly what I want to give Liberty.
“That’s right,” I reply hoarsely. “That’s all your brother wants for you too.”
“He’d lock me down for the rest of my life if he got his way.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He’d love to see you happy. He loves you fiercely, sweetheart.”
She blinks her eyes, starting to shine.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
“I know. I’m just…emotional. It’s Christmas and all. And that spiked hot chocolate’s got me all in the feels.”
“Noted. Next time we use tequila.”
She smiles for a second, a sad, small smile compared to the others, and I draw her into my arms. “Hey, I’ll listen if you want to talk.”
“Same for you, frogman.”
We stand like this for a while, her tight against my chest, my hand gliding up and down her back over that soft sweater and the delicate bones below it.
Fuck. I’m splitting wide open.
Justice is right. Liberty doesn’t need me in her life.
Even for a night. Or two.
I drop a kiss on her forehead. “I only want what’s best for you. Now, what do you say? Ready to get some food?”
The moment she pulls away from my arms, a knot twists inside my gut.
Things just got a lot more complicated.
We’re halfway back to the kitchen when a text comes in from Marshall. It’s not the group chat, but both our phones go off at the same time.
MARSHALL: Just confirming—everyone else is definitely out for the next 48 hours. You two have the facility to yourselves. Everything you need should be there. Merry Christmas, kids. Oh, and there are condoms in the supply closet off of the kitchen. Lots of them.
Jesus. Subtle?
Never.
“What do we say about that?” Liberty asks, wide-eyed.
“Nothing. Not a damned thing. Don’t give him anything to hinge on.”
“I’ll just send something generic.” Liberty texts back as we walk, and her reply pops up on my screen too.
Liberty—thank you for everything. Merry Christmas.
MARSHALL: You're welcome. Enjoy the quiet. Both of you.
Marshall knows what this means for both of us.
The push. They want us both to move beyond our past. Together.
I almost groan aloud as I take the kitchen by storm.
“What's for dinner?” Liberty asks following me toward the massive fridge.
“Christmas Eve dinner is duck confit with roasted root vegetables, arugula salad with pomegranate, and—” I open another container. “—some kind of chocolate dessert situation.”
“Fancy, I would have been eating spaghetti.”
“Yeah, I might have made some steak. Marshall's idea of team bonding is apparently Michelin-star quality food.”
And condoms, but I refrain from saying that as I nearly smile, but my face feels stiff. “Everything just needs heating. Instructions are printed on each label.”
“Want help?”
No. Yes.
“Sure. If you want.”
Lord help me.
Please do not let her bend over to retrieve ANYTHING.