Chapter 31
AURORA
“Ican’t believe you’re actually doing this.”
“I told you I would.”
“I know, but…” This is kind of crazy. This is extremely crazy.
Dr. Baker looks from Liam to me and back again. “Am I doing this or am I not?” he asks.
“Yes,” Liam tells him.
“Hold on,” I plead. “Are you sure? I’m not asking you to do this.”
“I’m doing it because I want to show you how serious I am about there being equality around here.”
Liam leans against the desk, shirtless, then nods to the doctor. “Go ahead. Put it in me.”
I keep waiting for the punchline to follow up, but there isn’t one. The doctor shrugs. “All right. Here we go.”
I can’t bring myself to look once he lowers the scalpel to Liam’s back. I don’t want to see what was done to me, for one thing. It’s just weird.
And… I don’t know. I guess I don’t want to see him get hurt. Even if he hurt me before. I would like to be able to move on from all of that. A few weeks ago? That would have been a different story.
But now, this is the man who rescued me. We spent eight days in the cabin together, and he gave me all the space and freedom I needed. He didn’t push me into anything, didn’t force me, nothing like that.
So now, I’m not really looking forward to watching him being mangled. It only takes a few moments of me looking away before the doctor sets down his scalpel. “All finished.”
“That was nothing.” Of course, Liam would think so. He’s been shot and stabbed a bunch of times. And now he has the same tiny wound I have. It does sort of feel like balancing the scales, even if I didn’t force him into it, the way he forced me.
“Just another scar,” he reasons while the doctor packs up his things. “No big deal.” I’m glad he can feel that way about it.
He walks the doctor back to the elevator and I go to the bedroom to play on my laptop for a while before going to sleep.
It’s funny—there’s nothing normal about this arrangement, really, but coming back from the cabin felt like life was finally coming back to normal.
Like I was on vacation, and now it’s time to get back to the everyday stuff.
I’m really not sure how that’s possible, but I do sense it’s how Liam wants things to be.
He’s trying really hard, when I should be the one begging him for forgiveness.
He should have me on my knees morning, noon, and night after what I did.
I mean, it was so easy for Dad to twist me up. I could’ve gotten him killed.
So why does he breeze into the bedroom, looking almost proud of himself? “See? I told you. I meant it when I said I wanted us to be on equal footing.”
It’s almost funny. Equal footing? We’ll never be anywhere close to that. But he’s trying, and he could just as easily decide I’m not worth trying for, so I do my best to look supportive and appreciative. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. And look.” He sits on the bed next to me so he can get a look at my screen. “Do you see that icon at the bottom? Next to email?”
Yes, and I don’t understand why email is even an option, considering all of my communication would be looked over, anyway.
“Click on it,” he urges. “It’s the app for the tracker.”
Okay, now I am interested. I open the app and it runs through a quick login before greeting me with what looks like a layout of the penthouse. There are two blinking blue dots.
“There’s you, and there’s me,” he explains. “Now, you can find me anytime.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. Should I thank him? For what? “Thank you for trying so hard,” I decide to offer. It’s awkward, it’s probably totally out of line, but it’s true. He’s trying.
“Have you thought about school?”
The man never sits still for long, and that includes his brain. It’s always moving. “Only a little.” Before. That’s the word I can’t make myself say. Before everything, I was comparing classes. The day that text came through, in fact. The message that set everything off.
“Classes should start in a handful of weeks. You have time to register.”
I close the laptop and set it on the nightstand before getting up on my knees to face him straight on. “Why are you pushing so hard for this?”
He even looks surprised before he takes a moment to think it over. “You’re not used to people pushing for the things you want. Are you?”
“You know I’m not.”
“You’re right. I do know that.” He gives me a look that tells me he’s waiting for me to catch up. “Which is why I’m pushing for you. If you don’t want to go to school, just say so.”
Sitting on my calves, I feel like some of the wind got knocked out of me. “I do want to.”
“I get the feeling if somebody doesn’t push and encourage you, you might just let it go. I don’t want that for you.”
“So this isn’t about feeling bad and wanting to make up for things that happened in the beginning? Or trying to make sure I’m happy so I don’t run away again?”
He doesn’t answer right away. He has to think about it. I don’t know if I like that or not. “No,” he decides, getting up on his knees the way I have. “It’s not about that. You weren’t given much of a chance.”
Something almost tender passes over his handsome face. I’m not used to seeing it, the way he softens. “Somebody needs to give you a chance. Why can’t it be me?”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think. I keep waiting for him to smirk or scoff, but he doesn’t do either of those things. It’s almost like he means it.
Something swells in my chest when he reaches out, taking hold of my waist, pulling me closer. I can hardly breathe—he’s so overwhelming. His presence, his strength, the way he’s not backing down. I want to close my eyes and hide from it.
“Don’t look away,” he orders when I try to do that. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
It’s so hard, because I’m not just looking at him. I’m looking at everything I see in his eyes that I shouldn’t see. It’s dangerous. I still don’t know if I can believe him.
His kiss is slow, deep, tantalizing. He covers my mouth, claiming it, and all I can do is melt.
It’s all I want to do. Enough thinking. I want to feel, and he knows how to make me do that.
His hands work under my T-shirt, and raise it up until I lift my arms. He breaks the kiss only long enough to pull the shirt over my hands and toss it aside.
Then he’s on me again, stealing my breath, sliding his tongue against mine until I whimper when it gets to be too much.
My body is on fire, the flames licking my skin where his hands stroke and caress.
He cups my ass, hauling me in even closer, so I’m pressed against his cock.
Maybe it’s everything we’ve been through together, but I can’t resist sliding a hand between us to cup him there.
His body goes rigid while a growl rumbles in his throat.
“Fuck,” he groans before kissing his way down my throat.
My head falls back and my free hand grips the back of his head while I stroke him below the belt.
His low groans are hotter than anything he could do to me with his hands or his mouth.
Until now, I’ve been weak for him. Helpless against what he does to me.
Now, it’s my turn to make him weak.
I don’t even know what I’m doing, letting instinct take over. He watches while I undo his belt and open the slacks. He pulls in a ragged breath as I lower his zipper. “Lie down,” I whisper. He does as he’s told, helping me strip him down before he settles back.
I don’t know who I am, finding the courage to straddle his thighs. He’s rigid, his wide head swollen and purple. The tip glistens as I wrap my fingers around his shaft.
“Put your mouth on me,” he begs in a ragged whisper. I will, but not yet. First, I stroke him slowly, watching his head fall back and his mouth fall open. “Fuck…”
This is different. It’s sort of fun. Holding him in my hand, deciding whether or not he’s going to feel good. Slowly, I lower my head, my tongue extended. And he watches, holding his breath. Our eyes lock and something passes between us. Something I can’t name, but I like the feeling of.
My tongue touches the underside of his head and his back arches. “Oh, yes, lick it,” he whispers. One of his hands finds the back of my head and massages my scalp. “Do it. Put it in your mouth.”
“Do you want me to suck it?” Oh, my God, who am I?
“Yeah. Suck it.” He even lifts his hips, like he’s trying to get it there quicker.
He sucks in a gasp when I let him past my lips. I run my tongue along his length as I take more and more of him, easing him a little deeper, a little deeper, until he hits the back of my throat.
There is something exciting about teasing him, letting his salty musk fill my nose as I move my head up and down in a slow, sensual rhythm that he obviously loves.
“Just like that. Fuck, yeah, keep going,” he urges, working his hips, pumping in and out.
But I’m in control, and I make sure he knows it by lifting my head and letting his glistening length slap against his belly.
His eyes open in confusion. “Why’d you stop?”
“Because I felt like it.” Reaching behind me, I unhook my bra, then toss it aside. I then roll away from him to pull off my leggings and thong. “Why should you have all the fun?”
“What has gotten into you?”
That’s the thing. I don’t know. I feel free, maybe that’s it. He unlocked something in me. This is the closest to freedom I’ve ever known in my whole life.
“Are you complaining?” I get back up on my knees and straddle him again, this time around his hips.
“Absolutely not.” He watches as I raise myself over him, then guide him to where I’m slippery and hot.
The first second where he stretches me makes me bite my lip, but it’s good.
It’s so good. The feeling of being filled inch by inch as I sink lower.
Finally I settle at his base and close my eyes, focusing on the sensation.
“Find the angle you want,” he murmurs, running his hands up my thighs, taking hold of my hips. “Do what feels best. Show me how you like it.”
It’s a little intimidating, like I have a spotlight on me, but I find my rhythm and groan when I start to move. He’s right, there are different angles that feel better than others. When I lean forward with my hands braced against his chest, his head hits something inside me that makes me shiver.
“There you go.” He sounds like he’s in heaven. “That’s it. Now make yourself come. Make yourself come on my cock.”
I don’t think I have a choice. It’s all happening so fast, coming up on me all at once. The feeling of him inside me. The bolts of pleasure that race through me every time I grind against his base. His groans, his moans, his breathing getting faster and faster, just like mine.
I open my eyes. He’s watching me. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers and I moan my response because I know it’s coming, it’s going to happen, it’s happening now. Tension builds, until the only thing I can do is throw my head back and scream.
He lifts me up and down the last few moments, grunting like an animal, finally slamming me down one last time with a roar.
“Fuck!” he shouts while I collapse on his chest. A rush of heat fills me down there along with a sense of satisfaction that fills the rest of me.
I don’t know where that came from, this new side of me.
I only know I like her. Especially if this is how things turn out when I let her free.
For a while, it’s enough to lie here like this, with my head against his chest. The steady drumbeat of his heart gets slower the way mine does until he finally chuckles.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but thank you.
” His hand moves over my hair, then down my back.
“I would like more of that in the near future, if you don’t mind. ”
“I’ll see what I can do.” It’s like everything has changed, top to bottom. Like we’ve reached some new level in our… relationship, I guess. It feels funny calling it that, but what other word would I use? Arrangement? That feels too sterile, and what’s happening between us is anything but.
He helps me off him and gets up and goes to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth for me. I am wiped out—there was a lot I needed to get out of my system, and I did, and now I’m exhausted. As usual, he cleans me gently before pulling the blankets up over me.
“Thanks,” I murmur before I smile sleepily.
He doesn’t walk away. Instead, he stares down at me with a funny look on his face. Thoughtful. “What if we got married?”
That makes me laugh. Obviously, he must be joking. Only when I look up at him, he doesn’t smile. “Maybe you forgot, but we’re already married.”
“For real, though.”
My heart shouldn’t skip a beat, but it does. Maybe a couple of beats. He can’t mean it. Why would he? I’m not sure what to say. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Maybe I’m tired of Photoshopped wedding photos on the walls. Let’s start there.” He has a way of making me laugh when he surprises me with his sense of humor. He also has a way of making me think about things I would never have considered before. Marrying him for real? By my own choice?
He lets out a long breath before shrugging a little. “Don’t worry about it. It was just a thought.”
That’s the thing. It’s not a bad thought. A confusing one, yes, and a surprise. Definitely never something I would’ve come up with on my own. But maybe, just maybe, it’s not the worst idea ever.
“Can I think about it?”
The corner of his mouth quirks upward. “That’s better than being turned down flat out. Sure. Think about it.” He is grinning to himself as he pulls on a pair of loose cotton pants from one of his dresser drawers. “I have a few things to do. I’ll try not to wake you up when I come in.”
Right, like I’m going to sleep when he comes in. He just gave me a lot to think about, the sort of stuff I never once considered before now. Not once ever in my life, and definitely not when it comes to him.
But he’s making me think. My head is swirling with thoughts when he closes the bedroom door and I roll onto my side, staring out the window and wondering what it would be like to marry him for real. How much would I gain?
And how much of myself might I lose?