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“So, do you have a development for me?” my father asks as Liam massages my clit in the sensual cadence that always shoves me over the euphoric precipice.
“Yes,” he replies as his other hand kneads my breast. He pumps inside me, his pace agonizingly delicious.
Oh. Dear. Jesus. I don’t want to come with my father on the phone.
“But not on the case,” Liam tacks on.
Case? I didn’t know they were working on something together.
“I’m not sure I understand,” my father says, the telltale jingles of his drink prep in the background. If he’s relaxed, he’s fixing a Manhattan. Stressed—Johnnie Walker Blue, straight. If he could see what was really happening, the bottle wouldn’t suffice. Glass clinks through the speaker before he asks, “What other development would you have for me then?”
I tighten my fingers on the ball, too heady to understand why I don’t simply drop the damn thing. This insider’s peek at my father’s business is interesting though. He’s never allowed that. This is all so crude and bizarre, but too alluring to pass up. Even on the brink of an orgasm.
I’m as warped as Liam. What the hell is wrong with me?
A stream of perspiration trickles down Liam’s face, raining through his golden scruff, dripping onto his rigid, inked pec, and pooling around his taut nipple as he says, “I know you and Ava are concerned about Celeste.”
That begs my attention. Is this call about me?
My father’s voice softens, stabbing me with a pang of guilt. “Of course we’re concerned. Has something else happened?”
“She’s fine,” Liam says with a wink. His tempo picks up in aggression, thumb rollicking with a fervor over my clit as he slams into me. “In fact,” he continues with a haughty smirk, “she’s perfectly fulfilled, which is why I’m telling you that your concerns are unnecessary.”
“Well, that is appreciated.” My father sighs. “She’s been quiet since Scott Filmore went missing. I know they hit it off, but we’re committed to getting her back out there. Finding a good fit for her. Someone safe, especially since she’s refusing to return home in the meantime.”
I can’t hide the deflation hearing that brings. A harrowing weight whomps my chest, pinning me to the lounger with far more constriction than these bindings. Tears spill through my lids, or maybe it’s the steam, but Liam ceases the finger tango on my clit and pinches both nipples until an unbidden whimper soars out of me from the heavenly zing—one he masks by clearing his throat.
When my alarmed eyes spring open, Liam points a V at them and back to his own, reminding me to keep my gaze hitched to his. To trust him.
“That’s the thing,” he says, hazels fierce and ardent. Lust. Determination. Compassion. “She won’t be getting back out there. Celeste is mine now.”
My heart thumps, pelting my sternum so vehemently that I’m surprised we can’t see it, like one of those dramatic cartoon characters whose lovestruck organ boings out of their body. The conversation I’ve been avoiding is happening while I’m in the most vulnerable position imaginable. In a sea of offered choices, Liam swiped this one out of my hands. Maybe I should be furious. Enraged. I’m not. It’s oddly liberating.
My father roars through the speaker, “I already told Wells that I do not want—”
“It’s not up for discussion, Frank. This was simply a courtesy call.” Despite the amorous expression cloaking his features, and the labored breathing from the steamy sexercising, Liam’s voice is sharp. Authoritative and commanding. So fucking hot. “I’m not asking permission, but I do respect how much you mean to your daughter. That’s why I’m letting you know where we stand. Do not try to set her up, pressure her to be someone she isn’t, or expect her to pursue goals that aren’t hers. She will not shed one more goddamn tear because she feels she let you, Ava, or the Carver name down. That all ends today.”
I’m both aghast and swooning. No one talks to my father that way. I love my parents, but I’ve never felt so seen. Liam hasn’t witnessed one tear regarding my family. I made sure of it. But they were still shed. The hollow despondency still wreaked havoc. No matter how hard I worked to disguise it, he saw it all.
I want you to see me. I’ll still keep you guessing, but no more games.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” my father bellows.
Liam sinks into me with such salacious ownership that my hips leap off the cushion to meet him, our eyes locked in some otherworldly realm.
“I’m the man taking your daughter,” he snipes. “Her well-being is mine to watch over now. And as such, anyone who interferes with that will be removed from her life.”
“You goddamn son of a bitch! You think you can threaten me, Graves? That she won’t leave you in the dust when she finds out?”
Ordinarily, the rage infusing my father’s tenor would shatter me, but lying beneath this formidable man, who has tethered my hands and tied my tongue, I’m freer than I’ve ever been.
“Ahh, Frank. We might not know each other that well, but surely, you’re aware that I don’t threaten. I inform. You want a relationship with her? You show your support and accept that she belongs to me. That’s the only way.” Liam swallows thickly, stretching up to graze his thumb over my lower lip, fingertips skimming over the scarf to caress the skin above it with more adoration than I’ve ever been met with. “And as far as Celeste goes, she’s well aware of everything I shared today, and I don’t think she has a damn thing to say about it.”
He’s completely unhinged, and yet I’ve never felt more cared for in my life.
Clicking off the phone without waiting for a response from my father, he addresses me. “No more pressure, baby girl. It’s just you, me, and our family now.”
Our family.
