Escaping Reality

five.
    “Amy,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”
    “No. I can’t.”
    “You can,” he says firmly, and his hand goes to my head, tilting my
    face to his. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
    Now I’m embarrassed that I am embarrassed. “I can’t help it.” My
    voice shakes. I’m not sure it’s just my voice. I have never felt this exposed.
    Not since…not ever. Not like this. “I was—”
    “Beautiful.” His hand moves to cup my cheek. “Absolutely beautiful
    and sexy.”
    My hand covers his. “No.” I laugh and it’s a choked, horrible sound. “I
    was fast. Really embarrassingly fast.”
    “I like that I can turn you on that easily.” He caresses my shirt and bra
    from my shoulders, and I let them fall away and my mind is mush all over
    again. And when he leans in and tenderly kisses my shoulder, his hot stare
    raking over my naked torso, my breasts are instantly heavy, and my nipples
    tight. “And I like,” he adds, his eyes lifting to mine, “that you like it when I
    look at you.” His finger lightly teases my nipple and a shiver of pure
    pleasure slides down my back. His lips curve. “And that you react when I
    touch you.”
    A pinching sensation begins to form in my chest. I’m overwhelmed
    emotionally when I should simply be aroused and nothing more. I barely
    know this man and somehow he digs deep into my soul and speaks to me
    like no one else ever has. It’s today’s events. It’s not him.
    I cut my gaze, trying to pull myself together, but he does not allow
    me an escape, not one he has not created, or offered in perfect orgasmic
    pleasure. His finger slides under my chin, tilts it up, forcing my eyes back to
    his. “Don’t hide what you feel. See, baby, that’s the thing about fucking
    properly, it’s raw and honest. There’s no time limit, or embarrassment, or
    nerves, which should exist. It’s just us fucking. Us feeling. Us being us
    together. We leave everything else at the door.” He smiles a sexy, easy
    smile and his hands slide up my back, his forehead resting against mine.
    “Well. In our case, on the other side of the door. Don’t ever be
    embarrassed with me.”
    My fingers curl on his cheek, the soft rasp of his newly formed
    whispers teasing my skin, the tension of moments before fading into the
    seduction promise of his words. “I’m trying. This is…” My voice trails off,
    and I am uncertain what I was going to say, uncertain what I really feel.
    “I’ll help you.” He drags a finger down my cheek. “The only reason I
    wanted to go next door was that I want this to be good for you. And I think
    you need to be pampered tonight.”
    “I can’t,” I whisper, and the two words, so telling, so honest, are out
    before I can stop them.
    He leans back and I am naked beyond my blouse, exposed beneath
    his too-keen inspection. And I think he can see what I heard in my voice. My
    desire to escape into his world and run from mine, if only for a little while.
    My fear for him if I were to do so. My fear now that I have let him see too
    much.
    Steeling myself for whatever questions he will ask, I wait for him to
    break the silence, hating that my passionate escape with this man will now
    be washed in the lies the rest of my life is drowning in. But there is only
    silence, and in that silence, understanding. He seems to know where he can
    push me and where he cannot, and I do not understand how a man who
    was a complete stranger yesterday knows me this well today.
    Holding my stare, he reaches behind him and tugs his shirt over his
    head, and the anticipation of seeing him naked, of being naked with him,
    drums wildly through my body, but that moment doesn’t come.
    Immediately, he puts his shirt over my head, the spicy scent of his cologne
    teasing my nostrils, mingling with my confusion. “What are you doing?” I
    ask, reluctantly shoving my arms through the sleeves.
    “Making sure you know I’m here to stay. I’ll be here with you tonight.
    I’ll be here with you in the morning. And you’ll still be wearing my shirt
    because we both know you have no clothes in your suitcase.”

Chapter Six

    I shove away from Liam and push to my feet. “I told you, my things
    are being delivered.”
    He’s already standing in front of me, towering over me, distractingly
    bare-chested except for the perfect sprinkle of dark hair over his pecs. “I’m
    not asking for answers,” he assures me.
    “Explain it to me when you’re ready.”
    It? Explain it ? “When