Eighteen

Claudia

 

 

Go to your room, Claudia.

Go to this college, Claudia.

Play the violin, Claudia.

Dance better, Claudia.

Major in this, Claudia.

Wear this, Claudia.

Marry this man, Claudia.

People will believe whatever I tell them to Claudia, and if you behave appropriately, I’ll let them believe the best.

When you’re my wife, you’ll do as you’re told, Claudia.

ARGH. Enough. I’d had absolutely enough of especially, the men in my life, although my mother had her faults and commands too, acting as if just because I was at their side, meant I wasn’t capable of thinking for myself or doing anything I wanted.

This morning had been incredible. Mind-blowing. All the fumbling that girls talked about in high school and the first couple years of college while they were cashing in their V-Cards like an ATM was going to run out of money and they had to get it taken care of before there were no more dicks left in the world, had been embarrassing to listen to. It had also left me in no hurry to jump on the bandwagon for one of the many reasons being, not a single one of them had enjoyed that moment.

But Liam? After he’d taken his time with me, sure movements, control, assurances and making it not just good for me but the best it could possibly be had actually left me thankful that I’d stayed away from bumbling idiots and waited for someone who cared about me.

Of course that caring came with a leash and collar he thought he could parade around and force to heel at his beck and call.

Arrogant, stubborn man.

I was overreacting, I knew that. Even as I held the facade, which I was planning on doing to avoid letting him see my pain and anguish, as well as my regret, I already knew I’d lashed out at Liam, not from the decision to be bitchy as soon as he took my virginity, but from fear.

What would Harrison do if he saw me, not just with a celebrity, but at his family’s home in Kansas? There were too many choices and none of them good. He was more stubborn than the antsy man next to me.

I had to come clean before Liam found out, before Harrison pushed everything and showed up like I knew he had the power to do.

It wasn’t the time, and who knew when it would become a good time. I stayed silent, stewing in my own regret and letting Liam cling to his anger.

It hadn’t been the time to put my foot down, I’d intended to talk to him about it on the plane. Instead, once we’d boarded, he’d whisked me off to the couch and played with me, bringing me to orgasm and we dry humped on the couch like teenagers and all words had fled my throat besides prayers and moans, giggles and whispers, pleas of more and please. We’d made out for hours, ate, napped and made out some more unable to keep our hands off each other.

We’d just gotten ourselves refreshed and fixed up when the plane landed and I’d freaked as soon as I saw the Town Car idling for us.

“We’ll be at the hotel in ten minutes,” Liam said and handed me a plastic bag I hadn’t noticed on the seat next to him. “Put this on.”

I took the bag from him, making sure our fingers didn’t touch and peeked in. “A wig?”

“Not so blonde you’ll look trashy but with that and sunglasses, you won’t be recognized.”

Something warm fluttered in my heart and I squeezed the bag closed. “Thank you. That was very kind.”

He nodded and glared out the window, running his hands down his strong, massive thighs. He was nervous and I’d pissed him off.

What a time for me to throw a tantrum.

Still, the reminder he owned me made me not feel too horrible. He didn’t need to continue throwing it in my face.

I debated for several moments whether I was brave enough to step out in public or wherever we were going and not have a disguise and decided against it. Opening the bag, I slid out the wig, flopped it around in my hands until I came across a section of bangs. The hair was lighter. Caramel with streaky blonde highlights. It was pretty. Felt real.

Which was sort of gross, but whatever.

I tucked my hair behind my ears and smoothed down my top before sliding the wig on. It took several moments of adjusting it in the small rearview mirror in front of us for it to look only slightly crooked. With more time, clips for my hair, I could do better and when it was on, I slid on my sunglasses. Black, round plastic frames covered my eyes and face all the way to the faux-bangs of the wig.

I was definitely unrecognizable.

Nerves settled somewhat, making me feel like a bigger idiot. He’d told me to trust him and at the first sign of fear, I hadn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. My fingers curled in fists and he grunted, not turning to acknowledge me in the least.

We zipped through city streets, what I assumed was Kansas City and soon we were in the country, or suburbs based on the housing divisions we flew past. They were all cookie cutter homes, bland paint colors, white fences and sprinkled in between were fields of hay and corn, red and white barns with horses and cows.

Every mile further from the city, Liam tensed.

Every mile closer to his family’s I began wondering if he’d even heard my apology.

Worse, if he cared.

 

***

 

“Why are we here?” I asked, the first thing said in the car since my apology. I’d expected a two-story suburban home, white shutters, gray vinyl siding and a lot of land with perhaps cornfields edging along the back yard.

Instead, we had pulled up to a covered valet parking area of what had to be the best hotel in town. A circular drive with a water fountain in front, the place was sparkling and much nicer than anything I’d thought a small-town would offer. The entrance sign on the way in had declared it Carlton’s Golf Resort and Spa.

“Friend of mine owns it. He’ll make sure his security will keep reporters away if anyone texts I’m here.”

“Right.” Gosh, I really was a shmuck. “Liam.”

He was already out the door before I finished his name. Apparently my apology fell on deaf or ignoring ears but his coolness still stung.

Less than twelve hours before, I’d let him inside me. Stupid me for thinking a gift, as cliché as the word was, would mean something to a man like Liam.

But he had done everything he said he would, the least of which was make sure our identities were protected.

I tugged my wig to the right, fixing the part, and slid out of the door Liam held open for me.

Once outside, his hand immediately clamped around mine. The warmth and strength in his grip was comforting but I pulled away.

“Don’t,” he all but groaned. “It’s been a shitty day. And there’s too much shit for me to deal with right now. Just…let me hold your fucking hand, Claudia.”

I squeezed him back, useless of words. He stole them with his scowls and growls but it was the broken, wrecked sound in his voice that pulled me close. I sidled closer to him, our arms brushing as we walked into the lobby.

We were immediately met with a behemoth of a man, black perfectly fitted suit, silver-wired eyeglass frames on the bridge of a straight nose. Wide, rough jaw and eyes that almost smiled as wide as his mouth when he saw us.

“Fucking punk,” the man shouted and pulled Liam into one of those odd shoulder-back slap type hugs. With my hand still in Liam’s, I was jerked back and forth until the giant settled Liam back from him. “How the hell are you?”

“Good. Shitty. Whatever. Thanks for helping us on short notice.”

“Fuck you, loser. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be in jail for ditching MacNatty’s old Ford into the river. I owe you one.”

They shared a laugh, a memory of years ago, I assumed.

“Still. Thanks. And let’s keep teen hijinks on the down low for a while, right.”

“Anything you need, superstar.”

As if he just realized there was a woman standing next to Liam, the man turned his gaze down to me and I swore. Everything inside me faltered. Flickered to life. He was just…wowzers. And I felt that pull. Like I bet all the women in town did, too.

Good grief, I didn’t know they made men like this. Must have been all that Midwestern homegrown beef and corn.

I almost snickered at the thought, barely managing to keep myself composed.

“Who is this?” the man asked.

“Sorry.” Liam glanced down at me and nodded his head. “Claudia, this is Jordan Marx. He’s an old friend of mine from back in school.”

“I got that.” I grinned and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

His hand slid into mine.

“My pleasure,” he said and grinned at Liam, still holding my hand. “You always get the pretty ones.”

“Like hell. You’ve had your fair share.” Liam growled. “And are you gonna let my girl’s hand go?”

I hadn’t even realized he was still holding me, but at Liam’s question, Jordan’s hand slid from mine, smirking at Liam before his expression went serious.

“I talked to all the staff. Told everyone that if they leaked you were here, I’d find them and bury ‘em in pop’s farm field. You have the top floor. There are two rooms up there. I put some security men outside the elevator and the room next to yours is empty in case you need to bring your family here. Anything else you need from me?”

“A bottle of scotch?” Liam asked, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck. Never mind. I need to stay clear headed. How bad has it been?”

Jordan shrugged, sliding his hand into his pant’s pockets. “Drove by your parents’ place and there were a few cars there, but it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

When he was accused of rape. The heaviness of the moment hit my shoulders as the two men continued talking. I felt smaller by the minute, not because I was being ignored, but because I hadn’t trusted him. He’d planned everything and even in the lobby of the hotel while the two check-in clerks were trying hard to look professional, they were still stealing peeks.

But who could blame them? Both men were incredibly sexy, one polished and refined even though he spoke like he hadn’t always been, and the other was known to women all over the world.

Their low, rumbling laughs caught my attention and I turned back to Jordan and Liam. Both had carefree grins and booming laughs that had their shoulders shaking. I’d missed something, but it didn’t matter. I could watch Liam laugh all day long for the rest of my life, and never need to hear a spoken word.

Beautiful.

He caught me staring at him and tugged on my hand. “Sorry. We should get to our room, huh.”

“Whatever you want to do.”

“I’ll let you get settled. Don’t forget,” Jordan said, “you need anything, just call.”

“Got it, thanks again.” Liam smacked his shoulder and I said my goodbyes to Jordan, barely able to peel my eyes off him as we walked to the elevators. “Sorry about that,” Liam said to me once we were inside the lift. “Didn’t mean to ignore you, sometimes it’s just nice to shoot the shit with people who knew me before.”

He’d needed that. In the reflection of the elevator, all the tightness and stress had melted away, leaving the guy I’d known the last two weeks.

“I didn’t mind. It’s nice to see you normal.”

“Normal?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “I mean, other than Anguilla, I’ve only seen you on stage and in interviews. You were different with him. Relaxed.”

“That’s because this is home.” He pushed his hands through his hair and tilted his head back. Shaking off whatever thought he had, he slid his hands to his hips, still grinning. “Jesus, I needed that. Laughs with a friend who doesn’t give a shit about my album or my money. People here are good people. Straight shooters. You do them good and they give it back tenfold.”

“Like when you help someone after they ditch a truck in the river?”

“What a bunch of punks we were then.” I was curious about the story but didn’t need to know. The worst thing I’d done in high school was sneaking a bottle of my mom’s pinot to a graduation party. I’d had two glasses and tripped on someone’s patio, breaking my high-heel shoe. Lame.

The elevator doors dinged and opened and even if I’d wanted him to tell me more about his high school antics which were assuredly worse and crazier than mine, but I bet a heck of a lot more fun, too, he guided me off the lift and to the door almost immediately to the right.

We were met with two men. Brawny and bald, both of them were wearing dark blue jeans and tight-fitted black shirts.

“David and Dustin,” one of the men said, gesturing toward the second guy I assumed was Dustin. “Jordan hired us for your stay. Don’t worry, sir. Ma’am,” he nodded toward me. “No one will get past us.”

My eyes widened with every moment he spoke until I was sure they were going to pop right onto the carpeted floor beneath my feet.

Goodness. I’d need to be careful about the meat I ate while I was there.

“Thanks,” Liam said. “Appreciate it.”

He didn’t introduce us, but I figured it didn’t matter. They were there to protect him, and it was business. They stepped to the side of the door and Liam waved a key. Once the door clicked, he pushed it open and held it for me while I entered.

The room was simple but modern. Nothing overly fancy, but it still had the new-room, updated feel to it. We were in a suite and off to the side, was a doorway to a bedroom. I caught a glimpse of one large, enormous king bed covered in white, fluffy bed covers and more pillows than necessary. The furniture in the living room where we’d entered was black leather, streamlined and matched the black and silver furniture.

Modern. Everything was sleek-lined, but still warm, with toss pillows and black-and-white urban photographs on the wall. It felt more like a masculine apartment than a hotel suite.

“This place is nice,” I said, walking further into the room. At some point, our bags had been delivered and they were both placed on the floor next to the bed in the other room.

“Decent. Jordan’s a smart guy.”

“He owns this hotel?”

“Yeah. Over the last decade, urban sprawl has made this town more of a suburb than an outlying rural town. Jordan came back after a blown out knee ended his baseball career and wanted nothing to do with taking over his parents’ farm. Instead, he saw a need, hoped he could make it work and sank most of his money into this place.”

“He played baseball?” He looked more like a football player.

“Yeah. Three years with the Colorado Rockies. Freak motorcycle accident in the off-season and he couldn’t recover fast enough. Spent a year on the disabled list and then his contract wasn’t renewed. When he didn’t get picked up by any teams he wanted to play for, he quit.”

“Wow. That’s…” Insane. Crazy. “Too bad.”

“I think he’s done okay for himself. Can we please stop talking about him? I didn’t like the way he touched you.”

It was only then I noticed the bite in his words, the tightness in his jaw, and the way he kept shoving his hands through his hair.

“Jealous?” I asked, walking up to him. He’d dropped my hand in the elevator and I was hesitant of being rejected.

“No.” He scoffed.

“Really?” I stepped in front of him, trailed a finger down his shirt, the center of his abs and around his waistband hidden beneath his shirt. “You sound like it.”

He grunted, but his hands fell to my waist. His anger had disappeared while he talked to Jordan but it was slowly climbing back up his spine, returning to his features.

I placed my hand on his chest. “I’m really sorry about earlier on the plane, Liam. I just freaked out.” I flicked the ends of my wig that was starting to itch my scalp. “I should have trusted you.”

“Forgiven,” he grunted. His eyes roamed my face, the bangs of the wig before meeting my eyes.

“That easy? That quickly?” I’d been a complete snot. I’d only been thinking of myself and that wasn’t right.

His fingers pressed into my hips. “I know you’re still hiding something from me. I can see it in your eyes. But I figure you start trusting me more, I’ll earn those secrets.” Darn. He saw me too well. “And today’s been shit, all of it, except this morning. So if you really want to make it up to me, earn forgiveness even though it’s been given, why don’t you drop to your knees and put your pretty pink lips around my cock.”

Heat poured down my spine like I’d been set on fire. I couldn’t stop my shiver. Rude, but he must have known I wanted it.

“Liam.”

“Or not. I can slide into your pussy again, or make you come like I did on the plane and I’ll take your forgiveness in you screaming my name.”

There were so many things wrong with what he was saying. There were bigger issues to deal with. Fires to put out.

Mine was currently most important. And his, because as he spoke, my gaze dropped to his groin and his cock had tented his shorts.

I did the only thing I could think of doing that would make him feel better.

I dropped to my knees.