Escaping Reality

shot of spicy, bitter whiskey about
    to pull me into a haze I cannot allow myself to enter. I shove at his chest
    and he tears his mouth from mine, and I am both relieved and tormented
    by the loss of the intimate connection.
    “You have no right to do what you did back there,” I hiss.
    “You made that pretty damn clear tonight.”
    “I didn’t do anything, Liam. You did.”
    “What I did was have a shit day you completed with an exclamation
    mark.” He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it aside, then does the same
    with his tie.
    “I repeat. I didn’t do this. You did.”
    He leans on the wall. “And you know how I wanted to deal with this
    shit day? I wanted to get lost in you, and us, and what did I find? You with
    him.”
    “He was there when I got there.”
    “And that made you drink out of his bottle.” It’s not a question. It’s
    an accusation. His hand slides into my hair, and he stares down at me, his
    hand moving roughly over my shirt. “I have no right, you say? That’s what it
    comes down to, now doesn’t it? I have no right to want you all to myself. I
    have no right to expect you to be loyal.”
    “You—”
    He rips my shirt and I gasp as he unsnaps my bra, teasing my nipple,
    pinching it. He is rough, hard in a way I’ve never known him to be. “I liked
    this shirt and now it’s ruined,” I whisper, but I’m not talking about the shirt.
    I’m talking about us.
    “And you like being fucked. So that’s what I’m going to do. Maybe
    you want me to be
    that guy I was before I met you. Maybe you want me to fuck you and
    leave you. Or maybe you’d rather him do it.”
    “No.” My voice is barely audible. I feel defeated. He unbuttons my
    shorts and I let him.
    “I don’t want Jared.”
    He shoves my shorts and panties down my hips and his fingers are
    between my thighs, stroking the sensitive flesh before the clothes ever hit
    the floor. “Maybe,” he adds, acid in his tone, “we should invite Meg and
    Jared over to join us.”
    Hurt and anger overcome me. “Is that what you want? Permission to
    go back to what you were before me? To fuck everyone and anyone?”
    “You’re nice and wet just talking about it—”
    “Stop!” I shove at his chest. “Stop talking like that and stop touching
    me.”
    He surprises me and lets me go, leaving me standing there with my
    shirt ripped open and my shorts at my feet. He motions to the door. “You
    want me to stop. You want to go. Then go.”
    I hug myself. “Who are you? I don’t even know you.”
    “I can only be me, baby, and I’m not sure you can say the same. I’m
    not sure you know who you are and I damn sure don’t.”
    The insult that hits a little too close to home, like a slap, and I slump.
    “If you wanted to hurt me, it worked.” I kick off the shorts and throw them
    at him. “Keep your stupid clothes and money and asshole attitude.” I cut
    around him, not even caring I’m in a ripped shirt and sandals and nothing
    else, and I don’t stop until I’m at the dresser digging for my clothes that I
    bought.
    I’ve been alone a long time. I can do it again. I will do it again.
    Liam’s hand comes down on my arm and he turns me. “What are you
    doing?”
    “Putting on my clothes that don’t make me feel like some kind of
    prostitute you own.”
    “Prostitute. How can you even say that? You were the one with
    someone else.”
    “I wasn’t with him, Liam. I was with you. Was as in past.”
    He pulls me to him and the heat of his body, the feel of him pressed
    to me, is heaven and hell at the same time. I want him. I need him. But not
    like this. Not. Like. This. “Is that what you want?” he demands. “Me gone?
    Me out of your life?”
    I know I should say “yes.” I should walk away and get out of what is
    trouble waiting to happen. “You’re being an ass.”
    “Do you want me out of your life, Amy?”
    “No,” I whisper. “I don’t want you out of my life. I want you to stop
    acting like this.”
    His mouth comes down on mine and it is hot and possessive and it is
    not heaven and hell this time. It is heaven, and I sink into the kiss, melt into
    his body, the argument and the rest of the world disappearing. I am
    connected to this man. I need him like I didn’t think I could need.
    I grab his shirt and I pay him back for what he did to mine. I rip it
    open, letting buttons fly, and my hands push under the cloth, absorbing
    warm skin and taut muscle. I wrap myself around him. I cannot