She grabs my shoulders. “No, Liam. Not here.”
“Yes, Amy. Here. Now.”
I slip her dress over her hips, my fingers find the thin lace of her black panties, stroking. Her lashes flutter and lower and I shove aside the silk to caress into the slick, wet heat of her sex.
Someone knocks on the door. She jolts and I yank her panties off, drawing her gasp and my smile, as I call out, “Occupied.”
“Liam,” Amy hisses in a reprimand.
“Keep saying my name, baby,” I encourage, lifting her leg over my shoulder.
“I can’t-”
I lick her clit. She pants. I smile again. “You can,” I assure her, licking again and twirling the nub with my tongue. She moans this time, and I suckle her, deeply, but gently, the way I know she likes it. Taming the darkest part of me, at least, for now. But that is the thing about Amy. She can handle all of me, even those tormented, broken pieces that sometimes I’m not even sure I can handle, until I kiss her or lick her like I am now, the sweet and salty taste of her caressing my tongue as it caresses her.
“Liam,” she whispers, her hips arching, my cock throbbing with my need to be inside her, my desire to fuck her. But this is about her right now. Her escape. Her pleasure. I slip two fingers inside her, fucking her with my hand and mouth, with my tongue. Her fingers find my hair, twisting and tightening right along with her sex. She moans, a sweet, sexy sound, and her entire body goes stiff in that way it does before her release. A moment later, her body is clenching my fingers, and I slow my touch. I lick softer, and then softer still until she goes limp. Only then do I ease her leg down, and then her skirt.
Standing, my lips curve and I show her the silk panties in my hand. “I’ll keep these for you.” I slip them in my pocket.
“No!” she says. “What if they fall out? Throw them away.”
“Not a chance in hell.” My hands settle at her waist, and I become solemn, that protective, possessiveness Amy stirs in me taking hold. “We are right in ways nothing else has ever been in my life. And we are going to live long, happy lives together with the kids I thought I didn’t want before you, and the safety you thought you’d never have before me.”
“I want kids. I’ll just be afraid for them, Liam. I’m still afraid for us and for Chad and Gia, even though he calls me often now.”
I cup her face. “Every parent is afraid for their children. And ours will be as well-protected as the President’s family.”
She laughs. “Oh I know. This is you we’re talking about.”
“Then there isn’t a problem. We will get pregnant.”
“We can’t get pregnant. I’m the one who gets fat.”
My lips curve. “You’ll be as perfect then as you are now.” I go back to the message that brought us to this bathroom in the first place. “I will spend every day of my life protecting you and our children.”
Her hands cover mine. “I love you, Liam Stone.”
“I love you too, baby. More than life itself.” I kiss her then, a slow, sensual, kiss that ends with us jolting apart with the rumble of knocks on the door.
“Other people need to pee too!” comes some woman’s voice.
Amy’s lips curve and she erupts in giggles that have me laughing too, something I’d forgotten how to do before Amy. I take her hand in mine. “Let’s go back to the party, Mrs. Stone.”
And so we exit, ignoring the woman’s scornful looks, and while I hold my wife’s hand, she holds my heart.
Bonus Chad & Gia Scene
This is an alternate point-of-view scene from The Secret Life of Amy Bensen series.
FROM FORSAKEN... I wrote this scene and ended up deleting it because I found out that writing Gia's point-of-view spoiled a lot of secrets for readers. So I decided to stick with only Chad's POV, but that means I get to share this now.
***SPOILERS FOR MY AMY BENSEN SERIES ARE IN THE FOLLOWING EXCERPT!!!***
Chad leads me outside the backdoor of the stranger’s house, into the dark, muggy Texas night that defies the November month. Stepping onto some kind of concrete patio, I can barely see my own hand for the inky black of the space around us. A few more steps and I hit a piece of furniture, irritated with myself when I barely contain a yelp that could get us killed. The darkness might allow us cover but just beyond our cloak are the dangers of us being blind, unarmed, and in a rough neighborhood riddled with gangs, when we are already hunted by Sheridan’s men.
Reaching the chain link fence, Chad hurdles it with only a quick, short shake of metal. “Come on,” he hisses, removing my moment of fear that he might leave me behind. Relief washes over me and I don’t let properness get in my way of an escape from Sheridan, I don’t have a plan for on my own. I yank my skirt up my hips, and stick a foot in the fence. His big hands shackle my wrists, and it’s unnerving how aware of this man I am as a woman, when I don’t know him or trust him. He helps me balance each step, and I bite my lips as the spike on top rips open my palm. I pant heavily through the pain, managing to keep silent. I don’t know if Chad realizes I’m hurt or he’s just impatient, but his arm wraps my waist as I clear the top and I come down against his body, his hand somehow ending up on my bare backside. Unnerved all over again, I shove away from him, tugging down my skirt, cursing the dash of heat I’d felt in reaction that shouldn’t even be possible with this man.
I’ve barely adjusted the grip on my shoes when he shackles my wrist, and starts running, which means I am too. Blood trickles down my hand and onto my wrist and I blink rapidly into the darkness, realizing we’re in some sort of nasty back ally that has me fearing the dangers to my bare feet I can’t see to avoid.
We run forever it seems, behind a row of small houses I believe, and all I can think of in these eternal minutes is how I got here. How one moment I never expected to exists, lead me to this one, and the next. One moment, one discovery, that changed my life forever, or in reality, opened my eyes to truth beyond the naive façade I’d been living. Nothing had been what it had seemed to be. I was, I still am, a token in a game I cannot allow the wrong people win and impossible as it seems, I trust Chad, a complete stranger, more than I trust anyone else in my life, and I don’t trust him at all.
We reach the end of the ally and Chad stops abruptly, and I run into his back, jolting us both. Unfazed it seems, he inches around the corner to inspect what might lie in wait for us. Obviously not liking what he finds, he curses under his breath, and squats, taking me with him. Leaning close, his breath is warm on my neck and cheek, and oddly, insanely intimate, as he whispers, “We’re crawling to the right, along the edge of the building. Sheridan’s men are to the left.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up just thinking about how close to capture we are and I give a decisive nod. Whatever it takes to escape, I’m up for it. Sheridan won’t kill either of us, at least not immediately, but he will make us suffer and suffer horribly.
Chad holds up a hand, silently telling me we aren’t moving yet. I hold my breath in wait, still managing to be shocked when his hand comes down like a flag on a racetrack, and he’s moving forward, still on his knees as he darts into the darkness, and leaving me stunned and staring after him. Adrenaline surges through me and I pursue him, still struggling to hold onto high heels, concrete digging into my knees. I want to throw my shoes away but at this point, the only thing I know I own in this world, is what I have one me right now. I have to hold onto them, like I have to hold onto my reasons for doing all of this. I can’t forget. I can’t be weak. The very idea that I might, speeds up my pace, and pushes me past the bite of gravel through my hose and into my flesh.
We travel the length of a giant warehouse, and enter the parking lot of another. The instant we are at the building, Chad shifts into a squat, leaning against the wall, the darkness still consuming us. Following his lead, I do the same, my shredded knees thanking me, blood tricking down my calves as it is the wrist of my injured hand. Chad doesn’t speak and
either do I. We both just listen and I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound of muffled voices to both our left and right, and the realization that we are sandwiches in between trouble is not good one. The only way out if forward or backwards, and I’m not sure either is clear.
“We’re going forward,” Chad instructs softly, “back where we came from, exactly what they won’t expect us to go and we’re going now.”
I blink and he’s pulled me to my feet and into a run to cross a road, and then we’re tracking down the sides of one warehouse, and then another, both dark and deserted. The voices fade behind us and it gives me hope, driving me to run harder and faster. Minutes become a blur of adrenaline and the small bit of relief I feel at the sight of the highway disappears when I realize we have two blocks of open space to cover to get to it. If Chad cares, he doesn’t react, simply pressing forward with obvious, fierce determination to escape and survive, that doesn’t ease at the edge of the highway.
He pulls me into the road, cars coming towards us at a far too rapid speed for comfort, our destination clearly a huge parking area favored by downtown partiers. Once there, we ducks down in between cars and I follow him as he starts checking for unlocked doors. Cars zoom past us on either side of the parking lot and above on the ramp, and there are people around us, lots of people, considering it’s Friday night and the nearby sixth street is the cities weekend hotspot.
Two people pass right by me, and I don’t know how they miss me huddled on the ground. Ready for cover, hiding in a vehicle doesn’t seem a horrible idea, and I start checking for options myself, leaving a stain of blood on several door handles.
“Bingo,” he says, opening the door to some sort of black pickup truck. “Get in.” I don’t have to be told twice. I quickly scramble inside, and he follows me, adding, “Stay low, but I’m already smart enough to be in the floorboard.
He yanks the plastic panel from under the steering column. “You’re stealing the truck?” I ask anxiously, grabbing tissue from a box on the floor next to me and without looking at my wound, I ball a big wad in my palm.
“If you wanted to grow morals you should have done it before involving yourself with Sheridan.”
“Says the man looking in the mirror.”
“I never claimed to have morals. I’m the one stealing the truck.”
“Won’t this get more attention, not less? What if it’s called into police scanners? Can’t Sheridan track us that way?”
He ignores me, yanking wires from the panel and the speed in which he starts the engine is a testament to this being a skill he’s mastered. “Don’t get up,” he orders as he backs out of the parking spot. “They’ll be looking for two of us.”
Reality is setting in hard all of the sudden. “I don’t have my purse. Or my credit cards. I have to go to the bank, maybe in another city. I’ll grab it and then we’ll be gone before he can get to us.”
“There is no “we” sweetheart and I have a plan that includes untraceable resources. Why don’t you?”
I read the underlining accusation, like my lack of a plan, is a plan, to get close to him. “I acted spontaneously. They were about to cut your toe off. You would have talked.”
“No,” he states with a humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t have talked.”
“You don’t know what pain will make you do. No one knows until they’ve been in that situation.”
“What would you know of pain? And what is all of this to you, anyway?”
“Enough to risk everything.” I move out of the floor to the seat, watching as we exit onto Ben White. “You don’t betray Sheridan and get away with it. You have to know that.”
His fingers flex on the steering wheel, several beat passing before he demands, “Who are you to him?”
“His secretary,” I say, the lie far less bitter than the danger the truth holds for me. “Which means I’m close to him and he trusted me and the betrayal will cut deep.”
“His secretary,” he says flatly, casting me a quick look I can only call disdainful.
“Yes,” I say, hoping I sound indignant. “His Secretary.”
Turning the truck sharply, he pulls into a storage facility, puts the vehicle in park and turns to face me. “I hate lies.” His voice is low, rough, but somehow that makes it all the more intense, even a intimating. “I hate the people who tell them even more.” He shocks me by getting out of the vehicle, leaving me stunned and wondering if he just left me here to fend for myself. Scrambling forward in the seat, I lean over the dash and watch as he approaches gate and it becomes clear he knows this place when he punches in a code. How can he have the code to this place? He can’t have a unit here, can he?
The gates open and in a blink, he’s back in the truck, shutting us inside without looking at me, tension waving off of him like a nuclear charge. He pulls inside the facility grounds, and I twist around to watch the gates slowly close, a horrible thought hitting me. Wouldn’t a storage unit be a perfect place to hide a dead body? My mind races with my options but there are none. If Chad really has what Sheridan thinks he has, then it’s Chad, not Sheridan, I need to be right here with him. Then again, if I’m dead, this is as over as it gets.
We halt in front of one of many storage units and I reach for the door. He grabs my arm, sending heat radiating up my arm, and this time my reaction to his touch has nothing to do with him being incredible, impossibly male. It’s about him being the man who might be about to kill me. “Stay here,” he orders. “I’ll only be a moment.”
I inhale and let it out, giving him a nod that is far more choppy than decisive this time. Apparently satisfied with my response, he releases me and exits the vehicle. My healthy hand digs into my legs and try to be relieved that’s he’s left me in the truck. Surely he’d want to get me out of it to murder me.
Trying to keep my mind busy with something other than the possible ways he could kill me, I examine my wounded hand to find the cut is not overly deep, but it’s still oozing. I grab fresh tissues and ball them inside my palm, and stuff the dirty one’s inside the now empty box. Already, the driver’s door opens, and Chad throws one duffle bag, and then another, onto the seat between us. He climbs back inside and locks us inside, flipping on the overhead light and unzipping a bag.
“I guess you know Austin,” I observe, as he dashes long wisps of blonde hair off his brow to display a rather nasty bump on his temple.
“I know it well.” He wraps some sort of strap around his ankle, and cuts me a hard, unreadable look and adds, “Know your enemies and their territory better than they know you and yours.” He reaches in the bag, removing a handgun. “Isn’t that why you’re here? Because Sheridan thinks a pretty woman in trouble is my weakness?”
I lean against the door, one hand reaching behind me for the door handle, feeling like a fool for not running when I could. “I’m not a setup. I swear.”
He pops an ammunition clip into place. “What is in this for you?”
“Do you know what could happen if what you have lands in the wrong hands? And Sheridan is the wrong hands.”
“What is it that you think I have?”
“So you have it?” I ask hopefully, unable to contain the lift in my voice.
“What is it that you think I have?” he repeats tightly.
“You don’t know?” I ask, afraid making this too important will only trigger his mental calculator.
“I repeat-“
“One single element that is the answer to worldwide energy without oil or coal,” I say, adding nothing else, trying to downplay what in my mind cannot be downplayed. It’s about clean air and water and the protection of our ozone layer. It’s a miracle science wasn’t even sure was possible.
He doesn’t deny or confirm his knowledge of what I’ve said, but neither does he blink, or show the slightest inkling of surprise. “And you know this how?”
“I told you. I was his secretary. He trusted me.”
“Enough to tell yo
u something this big.”
“He told me he was out to save the world and I passionately tried to help him, but I overhead him talking about you, and it, and that’s not his motivation at all. That element would destroy him, as it would all of the oil and coal industry. He’ll won’t let that happen. Will you?”
He studies me long and hard, seconds ticking by like hours, his expression unreadable. Finally, he holds up the gun, the barrel facing the ceiling. “Do you know how to handle one of these?”
“Yes,” I say quickly, trying to get back on topic. “I know how to shoot a gun. Do you have the element?”
The streetlight brushing the cynical curve of his mouth. “You know how to handle a gun,” he says rather lazily. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“I’m a single woman in a big city. I’ve made it a point to be able to protect myself. Chad please-”
“You’re just a single girl who needs to protect herself. I believe that about as much as I do you being Sheridan’s secretary trying to save the world his greed might destroy.” He plants his foot on the dash and shoves the gun into what I now realize is an ankle holster. “Secretaries don’t know how to set bombs.” I open my mouth to explain, not quite sure what’s going to come out when he stops me with a command of, “Don’t. A lie is just going to piss me off all over again.”
“If you believe nothing I say, then why am I here?” I demand, angry, and with nothing to lose right now. “Why haven’t you just dumped me or killed me?”