Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (24 page)

“Yes,” I said. “Am I presentable?” I asked.

“You’re better than presentable. You’re
hot
,” he said, pulling me to him. “And you made me and my dad pancakes.”

“I’m practically indispensable,” I agreed. “I can make pancakes from a
box
.”

I looked down at myself, still worried about my outfit. I was wearing jeans and a white button-down Oxford shirt. It was a little preppy for me, but I wanted to look respectable to see Catherine’s mother.

“You look appropriate,” John said, “and Eva’s not one to judge. She already told me she thought you were lovely and brave. Besides, Liberty, you brought her daughter back. You could wear that plaid bikini I bought you and she’d still think you were perfect. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, where is that bikini? I miss it,” he said, and ran his lips down my neck. He hadn’t shaved today, per my request, and I could feel his stubble tickling me. I felt an ache low in my abdomen and shook him off.

“Eva,” I said, trying to get him to focus. “Let’s go see her.”

He pulled back, but he looked put out. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

Ian joined us and we started towards the barracks. “I’m leaving for the weekend once I see Eva,” Ian said. “I’ve lent her a car for the weekend. She’s staying at a hotel. I invited her to stay, of course, but she preferred it this way.”

“Where are
you
going?” John asked, looking at his father. “Liberty and I don’t want to run you out of town. The house is plenty big enough for all three of us.”

“Boston,” Ian said. “I’m going to Red Sox games and museums.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” I said. I watched out of the corner of my eye as John opened his mouth and then closed it again.
Red Sox?
his expression read.
Without me?

“I wasn’t going to go,” Ian continued, ignoring John’s silence, “but since you two are finally reunited, my granddaughter doesn’t want to see me yet, and her mother’s here this weekend…well, I figured what the hell. No one will miss me.”

“We’ll miss you,” I said.

“Have fun at the game,” John grunted, and I elbowed him in the chest as surreptitiously as I could.

“I’ll try,” Ian said dryly. He seemed different to me since we’d been back; frailer somehow, more emotional. The Catherine situation was having its way with him.

I saw a leggy blond figure waiting outside Catherine’s room with Jake; I inhaled sharply. Even though I’d met Eva before, I felt intimated now: she was attractive, pulled together and annoyingly wrinkle-free for a woman her age. When I’d seen her in California, I’d stared hopelessly at her remarkable, poreless complexion. Suddenly, I was worried about
John
seeing her. We’d been so busy (
having sex
) that I hadn’t let myself even think about it too clearly. But here we were. And her skin was luminous in the early morning sun.

“Eva,” Ian said, and he greeted her with a warm hug.

“It’s been too long, Ian,” she said, hugging him back.

“Hi Eva,” John said, and bent down and hugged her. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s good to see you,” she said, then turned to me. “And Liberty!” She hugged me to her, suddenly and hard, and through my shock I noticed she was rocking me back and forth.

“Thank you, honey. Thank you for going down there and finding my baby.” She pulled back and looked at me. She had tears in her eyes. “I was probably sort of rude when you came to my house. I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were crazy.”

I just nodded at her, not knowing what to say. She looked to John. “Thank you for bringing her back. Ian and I have been talking. He’s told me what’s going on, about her frame of mind. It’s not good, is it?”

I saw Jake smirk behind her back and it was like I could read his mind:
Understatement of the year, lady.
He noticed me looking at him and he immediately got his face under control.

“That’s putting it mildly,” John said. “She’s very angry. She’s not herself, Eva. You need to be prepared for that.”

“What does that mean?” Eva asked. “What does she want? All I keep hearing is how angry she is. Why? What’s she so angry about? That it took us so long? No one could be more sorry about that than her own parents,” Eva trailed off, looking confused and sad.

“She wants to go back,” John said, evenly, and I could hear the struggle in his voice to stay calm, to not open the floodgates of emotion. I’m sure he wanted to. If anyone could’ve understood his pain, it was Eva. But he was probably trying to spare her for as long as he could. “We think she has
Stockholm syndrome
.”

“You mean like Patty Hearst?” Eva’s face contorted. “You mean she
likes
them? The people who did this to her?”

“Yes,” John said. “They had her for so long that she’s confused, to say the least. Her loyalty is with them.”

Eva’s eyes filled with tears again. “Oh, the poor thing,” she said, getting out a tissue and wiping her nose. “My poor little girl.”

“It’s going to be okay, Eva,” John said and hugged her. I felt so sorry for both of them. I was suddenly very happy that Eva was here, that she could share some of the burden with John. It was something only the two of them could really understand.

“What do I say to her?” she asked, pulling back and looking at us. Her mascara was smeared a little bit, a problem which would no doubt get worse as the day progressed.

John just shook his head. “Just talk to her,” he said. “I told you, I have a friend at Mass General who’s going to assess her on Monday.”

“I’m going to the appointment,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay for awhile.”

“Of course,” John said. “And if you need anything, just let us know.”

“My hotel’s close,” she said, wiping her eyes now. She seemed to be getting her game face on. “I’ll be fine. Just let me know what I can do to help my daughter.” She nodded at us and then to Jake. He got up to let her in.

“I’ll talk to you later,” John said, and they looked at each other for a moment, the way I imagined that only parents could. Some sort of telepathy passed between them about their child:
I want it to be okay, too. I’ll do anything.

Eva smoothed her hair, then walked through the door to her daughter, six years after she’d seen her for the last time.

“I’m off,” Ian said. I didn’t blame him in the least.

“I think we should spend the next two days with Eva and Catherine,” I said to John as we headed back towards the house.

“No,” John said, looking at me and shaking his head. “We’re not going anywhere today, anyway. Eva can find us if she needs us. She needs to have this time with Catherine.

“Monday’s coming, and it isn’t going to make things easier on any of us.” His eyes were faraway, dark, stormy. I shivered. But then I looked up at the beautiful blue sky and the sun, and hoped that the further we walked away from Catherine, the further away we were from trouble. For now, at least.

Maybe I could get that look to fade from his eyes this weekend. I smiled and grabbed his hand, forcibly pushing the dark clouds hanging over our heads away. “Follow me,” I said. There was trouble ahead of us, and trouble behind. But for right now, in this moment, we had each other and we were safe. We had everything.

“I thought we were going to go for walks, eat carbs and hold hands,” John said, laughing, as I pulled him back onto the bed.

“We are,” I said, looking at the clock. It was noon. “I just want to see you for a couple more minutes. Come here.”

He did and I climbed on top of him. We were both naked and I could feel him springing to life beneath me, immediately, even though we’d already done it twice. I rubbed myself against him greedily, feeling an overwhelming need for him again.

“I want you one more time,” I said, leaning down and kissing him seductively. “That way,” I whispered, “you’ll be so tired that you won’t care that we’re watching
Pretty Woman
again. And
Titanic.”
I slid my pelvis over him, making his hardness slick and wet, and he moaned, low, wanting.

Then he grabbed my hips and stopped me.

“Wait,” he said, “did you say
Pretty Woman —
and
Titanic
?”

“Uh-huh,” I said. I lifted up and slid him all the way in to me; I was so wet it was smooth, instantaneous. We both stopped and gasped.

“You don’t mind, do you, baby?” I asked, rocking back and forth slowly. I leaned down and started kissing his chest, sucking and biting on his nipples.

“No,” he said, throwing his head back. “We can watch whatever the fuck you want for the rest of our lives.”

With that, I drew myself up to my full height and started to ride him, hard. He grabbed my ass and held me up so he could have control. He slammed into me, over and over, so deep and hard I was dizzy. I leaned over him and clasped his head, running my hands through his thick, luxurious hair.

“You own me,” I whispered to him. “I’m yours.” He pushed my hips up so he could thrust in and out of me, luxuriously. He pretended to stop, teasing me, and I moaned and begged until he slid himself all the way into me again. Then he pulled out of me and brushed the hair from my face.

“I want to be on top of you,” he said, and his voice was urgent. I obediently rolled beneath him and spread my legs, offering myself to him again. He grabbed my hands and held them above my head as he teased me again, putting the tip of his penis into me, but not moving deeper.

“John, please,” I said, and writhed against him.
“Please.”
The longer he stayed there, the more I felt like begging. He leaned down and kissed me hungrily, and I could feel him start to yield a little, moving incrementally further into me. My hands were being held above me so I wasn’t able to grab him and force him inside of me; he could feel my need, though, so he thrust inside me once, twice, and then pulled back out, making me practically weep. “Please,” I begged. He thrust into me again, and stayed up for one precious moment, then pulled back out. I opened my eyes and looked at him, forcing him to stare back at me. “I want you,” I said. “I want you now.
Please.
”

He smiled at me indulgently and leaned up so I got a full view of every gorgeous muscle on his torso, and then he pulsed back into me, all the way, and kept at it, until I threw back my head and screamed as my orgasm overtook me. That was all he needed to hear, to feel, as I found his release. He cried out once, grabbing my hair roughly, and then we were clutching each other, lying against each other and breathing hard. He leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, his tongue insistent, and he put his hand possessively over my breast. He kneaded it and then bent down and sucked on it greedily, and unbelievably, I felt him rise up against me again.

John?
I thought, but I was physically beyond speech. To be honest, I was a little sore, but the idea that he wanted me again seemed so wanton, so naughty, that I felt myself get wet again. I leaned back and opened my legs, showing him I was ready for him, but he put his hand under my behind and guided me over. Suddenly I was on all fours, facing away from him, and I could feel him pressed up against my backside. He rubbed himself against me, against my ass, and then he started stroking me with his fingers, circling my clitoris, swirling around it, and then he quickly put two fingers into my vagina. I moved back against him, wanting him inside me.
All of him.

“You’re ready.
Again
,” he said, and I could hear the pride swelling in his voice.

Let him be proud
, I thought.
I loved him and I was absolutely crazy about his big, throbbing cock.
“Put it in me,” I whispered, hoarsely, finding my voice. “Please.” I was begging him now, but he kept alternating between rubbing my clitoris, pinching it, and shoving his fingers into me roughly, deliciously. I kept moving against him, keeping the rhythm, knowing how bad he wanted me — I could feel how hard he was, pressed against my ass — trying to drive him crazy enough that he broke down and gave me what we both wanted.