Forty

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"I'm sorry I left you like that," I breathe, my eyes adamant but soft on his shade of blue.

Sighing, he takes my hands and brushes his mouth against my knuckles.

"I missed you," he says, and I'm baffled that it's the only remark he can give.

I expected an ireful amount of scolding or a bit of a why question. But I'm glad, even if this is more than I deserve if I'm being purely honest with myself. Being alone has been my safety net, and I wonder if I can do well otherwise after that one gruesome experience.

I close my eyes and drift, the ache still fresh and warning.

"What is it, Kira?" Liam whispers, confusion thick in his voice as he studies me carefully the moment I blink my eyes open and gaze upon him.

I want to tell him something I haven't told anyone but my therapist.

I want him to know my darkest secret that still tortures me from time to time.

"Are you having doubts about us?" Liam asks, a deep wrinkle between his perfect eyebrows. Hauling me toward him, he seizes my chin to have my eyes locked with only his, and I comply. "Why? Is there any problem?" he adds.

"No, there's no problem, Liam. I'm just trying to. . . " My voice trails off.

How exactly do I tell him that stuff? Fear rises inside me, but I know I ought to let it out in one way or another.

A soft breath emits from his breath as he leans into me, letting my hands off so his warm palms can hold my face in place. Soft eyes stare down at me, and my heart tingles, especially when he sensually grazes his lips against mine, too gently and close that I can taste them.

It sends a quiver in my stomach and a quick pulse between my legs for some misplaced reason.

"Do you want me to go?" he asks. My body electrifies at the tone of his voice, and I shut my eyes as he transforms my mood. "Tell me, Kira Jones. Do you really want me gone?"

"No," I hardly breathe, my eyes wide open alongside my conscience. "I don't want you to go and I'm sorry about all the times I turned you down back in Miami and I'm glad you're here," I tell him truthfully, for I've had enough of being a coward.

His lips curl into a smile, almost flushed. "I forgave you even before you asked for it, Kira. But I think we still need to straighten up things between us; we need to have a serious talk about your mysterious ways to love and then push me away, even at this particular moment when you're deliberately trying to conceal something from me."

Conceal something from him? Shock knocks me off the sweet, erotic bubble.

Busted! Sneers my fevered subconscious.

"Must it be now, Liam?" I ask because I don't think what I'm craving at the moment can wait for later.

But my shady past can surely be discussed at a later time.

"I believe so," he replies curtly, sheer concerns bathed in his luminous eyes that scan me so intently. "I can't afford you running away once again, so I need you to—"

"We'll have time for that, but not now. What I need, what my body sternly needs, is not to talk." I slowly set my arms around his neck, missing not a single blink of his crinkled eyes. "I want to kiss you," I whisper, uplifting my head to lay my lips on his.

Liam makes a soft sound akin to a groan when my mouth invades his. His heart beats as violently as mine when he grabs me tightly, although loosely at first, squeezing me in an impatiently perverted fashion, kissing me back ravenously until our breaths thicken.

"I hope you won't regret asking me to stay," he warns, staring ardently at me with darkened eyes.

My cheeks pinken in color, heat burning me from the inside out.

"Why? Will I have a reason to?" I raise a playful eyebrow, trying hard to control the impact of his so tight grip around my waist, possessive even, and his pink lips that have deepened in color to near reddishness.

And if those same lips are capable of driving me out of my wits, how will it feel when his other objects wander on, in, and out of me? Just the thought makes my body flame.

"What do you think?" His hand slips underneath my robe, heading to places I've imagined him touching so many times.

I suck in a breath and reply, "I don't know."

"Well, Ms. Jones . . ." He smiles wickedly, drawing me closer to him using one arm while another fist into my curls. "I can't promise to be a gentleman now that we're alone. I'm just warning you."

Whisper of a devil? How lovely!

"Oh really?" I laugh out loud, blushing all over again at this delicious warning. "Well, I think I accept the danger, Mr. Darcy. It's more exciting and thrilling than a perfect harmony that barely exists."

And I want to be as defiant as I can be just for that matter. 

"We shall find out soon enough." He starts kissing me again, more voluptuously this time until my whole body flames.

Relentlessly, he lifts me and my legs curl around his waist. I firm my hand around him, my breasts crushed tightly by the muscles of his hard chest, and onto the couch, he lays me down without taking his lips off mine.

He only stops when I'm all settled beneath him. My head rests on the pillow wedged against the armrest. My chest shores on and off like capricious ocean waves—stirred and restless—and Liam places his one knee on the cushion to bulk himself as he leans over me.

His face closer to mine, breath to breath, he grins down at me.

Damn, the look of devouring he gives me as if I'm the last woman standing. It makes me feel needed and wanted. Responsively, I grab the sides of his jacket, urging him to shrug it off in a similar design.

He's finally mine.

"I love you," I confess heavily, eyes on his as he hoists himself up to flap his jacket away.

"And I you," he replies while pitching it on the floor.

His lips find mine in nanoseconds, his body weighing me partially as I lay back on the couch. We kiss deeply, gently, full of passion I only see in movies and romance books I read, caressing each other unhurriedly.

I've pictured this moment for so long. I've yearned assiduously for the man who can plague my desire and need to make love, to strip me away from fear, and eventually, he's here, capable and willing to turn me into the heroine I wanted to be. 

His firm fingers run over my curves, caressing my thighs with so little patience.

It's fine. This is Liam Darcy and not him. I hold my breath and let him proceed.

But it suddenly feels anything but right.

The more I fight it, the harder it gets into my head. My breath hitches and certainly not from pleasure. No, it's from pain. From torture. From the dark memory that holds me on a leash. I don't feel as I should be feeling and so my eyes shut tightly to repel.

Liam's tongue is on my chest, kissing the swell of my breasts while undressing me subtly. My mind begins to spin. It's kind of déjà vu: the crawling sensation of dirty hands all over my body, the forced kisses, and most terrifying of them all . . . the brutal thrust between my legs.

I struggle to move beneath Liam, to take him off me, and my eyes well up. Please, stop. I sob mutely, my whole body stiff as if I'm having an epilepsy attack. I feel Liam pulling back slowly, postponing all the kissing and touching too.

"Kira," he calls gently.

"I'm sorry," I gasp, my lungs at the shortage of oxygen.

"What's wrong?" he asks worriedly, a crinkle of concern on his face. "Kira—"

"Don't!" I shove him slightly when he tries to hold me. I hug my robe as he stands up, giving him so little as a glance. "I'm sorry." I drop my feet off and sit up, my arms wrapped defensively around my chest.

"Did I do something wrong, Kira?" Liam asks but I'm no longer in sync with him.

I'm in far, too dark places.

"No. You haven't done anything." I feel cold so my upper body moves hence and forth as if I'm searching for inner balance and warmth.

"So then?"

"It's just . . . " I look at him and his worried eyes destroy my confidence. "I'm sorry." Unable to say a thing, I get up and flee.

He doesn't stop me; he gives me space.

---

My heart is beating unpleasantly against my chest. Why is this happening now? How did Jeremy come into such an important moment in my life? I try to catch some air—to finally breathe. It's sickening, disgusting, so unbidden that I had to think of him. 

What will Liam think of me now?

Oh, God!

I try to do away with all these dreadful feelings. The way he came over me fills my mind with darkness. Those kisses were dirty and forced—I feel dirty, too. The way he touched me felt like snakes crawling on my skin, and when he pushed his . . . No! 

I close my eyes tightly.

"No, Kira," I utter, moping away the unshed tears. "He'll probably understand."

He's Liam, not Jeremy.

Slowly I get up and stride toward the sink. My morbid look is what regards me in the bathroom mirror, my hair messy, and my skin ghostly pale.

My fingers reach for the water faucet. Cold water hits my hand a second later. I splash some on my face and its coolness manages to wake me, reminding me of my present and not the past.

Done, my eyes still on the pale woman, I grab the mini towel from the hanger and wipe the water off my face. I got to tell Liam everything, even though I'm not sure how he'll react to it.

I may lose him again.

"It'll be fine, Kira," I breathe, standing tall as I finish my mental pep speech.

When I get back to the living room Liam is no longer on the couch. Our glances collide, and I can't discern the look on his face. Was he about to follow me? I can't tell, but that's mostly possible. Sighing, I saunter to where he is, moist eyes intently on his.

He looks more guarded than usual, a frown on his face but not an angry one. Concerned maybe, not angry. He just stares at me, waiting for my voice to come out, and my breathing shallows. It's okay, I can tell him everything. I take a soft sigh.

"Liam—" I try to open my mouth several times but no word comes out of it.

"It's about that bastard, isn't it?" His words emit through gritted teeth.

Does he know?

"Um . . . " I sigh, maybe from feeling startled. Liam strides nonchalantly to where I've halted so we face each other closer.

"That long-haired boy in Miami, one of Samantha's friends. Is it him?" Liam deadpans, his eyes dark and angered. "Tell, Kira! What did he—" He pauses and sucks in a breath as if whatever he thinks or wants to know is nothing he finds delight in.

"Did you . . . by any chance . . ." I stutter.

Did he hear my conversation with Jeremy that day?

"Yes, Kira. I overheard part of your conversation and I'm not sorry for doing so, but rather for not beating him up if I knew that something horrible happened between you two," Liam says with bared teeth, remorsefully. "What did that bastard do to you?"

My feet are suddenly wobbly and I hate that I have to tell Liam about this. Lifting my eyes to meet his, I can only see the despair and anger. My lips tremble but up to now, I don't know how exactly to explain that I was violated by my best friend's boyfriend.

And suddenly, as though he understands me more than I do myself, Liam wraps me into a tight embrace and whispers, "It's okay, Kira. It's okay." He rubs my back soothingly and I sob quietly in response, burying my face in his chest.

"I feel so ashamed, Liam," I confess my fear.

I always wanted this to stay a secret.

Liam sighs heavily and kisses my hair. "I'm not sure why you'd feel that way, Kira, but I wish you didn't. I want you to trust me, baby. I want to hear everything, Kira. Whatever it is, I want to hear it."

I draw back and lift my lids at him. "You won't leave me, will you? Promise me you won't be disgusted by me even if—"

"Look at me!" Liam snaps. I just cry, my body trembling in fear. "Look at me, Kira!" he repeats and I quickly comply. "Did you kill an innocent person?" he asks sternly.

I shake my head and say, "No?"

Where did that come from? I almost want to laugh.

"Did you torture little kids?"

"Never!" I laugh in tears.

"Then I don't care what else you did. Nothing will make me feel disgusted by you so tell me what happened," he commands and I can never say no when he uses that tone of voice.


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