Liberty Begins (The Liberty Series) (8 page)

I was thinking about this as I stood under the steaming hot water of the shower, finally washing my hair. Whatever the shampoo was, its smell was so delicious it was making my mouth water. Or maybe I was salivating because I was thinking about the view of John’s behind ... or maybe I was just starving.

My stomach rumbled at the thought and I started washing my hair again.
Liberty, you need to keep your eye on the ball,
the voice in my head said. I sighed. She was right. I was not thinking with my head — and the body part I
was
thinking with wasn’t asking the right questions, or really, any questions at all. Except for:
When?

As I cleared my head, I began to realize that I did have a lot of questions. To start with
: Who had hired John to take me?
Who did I know that had any resources at all, any connections? There was no one...but how did John know so much about me? I had checked the sizes on the clothes as I put them away, and all of them would fit me perfectly.
How
did
he
know?
And who had told him who my favorite books were, and that I never tired of rereading them?
What was the “training” we were going to do here? What the hell did that really mean?

I shivered again.
I wondered if he had spied on me…absurdly, the thought sent luscious waves down my spine. If I was thinking straight, I would be afraid. Instead, I felt perfectly safe.

Enough,
commanded the voice in my head.
If you can’t be reasonable, think about this, instead: who is the asset John’s after?
I still didn’t know, and I didn’t know how I was supposed to help. If we did catch someone, would he become a prisoner like Darius? What on earth would happen then?

The other thing that was nagging me was my life back in Las Vegas, my job, my apartment. John had said that Cruz had agreed to me taking a leave of absence, but for how long? How long was this going to take? John had said that he would take care of my financial issues, my rent. For once, I trusted someone to follow through. Not only did he clearly have the means to pay my rent, but he was meticulous and alert. In my gut, I knew he wouldn’t let my financial well-being slip through the cracks. I knew he would take care of me.

I’d never had that before, and it frightened me. So instead of being appropriately
scared of John spying on me, or kidnapping someone, I was petrified of trusting, having
faith, depending on him.

This is what brought me to my most nagging question, the real ball in play here, the one I needed to keep my eye on. I shaved my legs while I contemplated it, happy for the privacy, for the hot shower, for the chance to think clearly.
I wanted John.
I couldn’t lie to myself: it was automatic, it was innate; it was completely out of my control. He was out of my league and I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself.
And at some point, he was gonna get tired of me, find someone prettier than me and younger than me, like Tracey said.

But
I missed him right now. It didn’t make any sense, but I needed to be near him.

So the question was:
What was going to happen?
If we were on an assignment, what happened when the assignment was fulfilled? I couldn’t imagine myself going back to the Treasure Chest and my infested apartment, checking for bed bugs every night, alone again. Because now I would have another hole in my heart, even bigger than the first; I wasn’t sure I could take it.

Just don’t think about it,
I told myself.
It’s been two days.
I took a deep breath and turned off the shower. And I hoped whoever had hired John had told him that I needed a blow-dryer with a diffuser for my hair.

* * *

I was in bed, in the gorgeous blush-pink tank top and pajama bottoms that someone had bought for me, when John came back. The small digital clock on my nightstand said it was just six o’clock, but it felt like midnight to me.

“Hi,” John said, and sat down gently on my bed.

“Hi,” I said, nervously. My stomach fluttered at his proximity. “How was your meeting?”

“Productive,” he said. “How was your shower?”

“Excellent,” I said. “I have the best smelling hair in the whole world.”

He leaned down and inhaled. “Yes, yes you do.” He smiled at me. “I’m glad you’re comfortable, but you need to eat. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to go up to the big house tonight and see everyone at dinner,” I said, and it was true.
And I didn’t have the nerve or energy to meet his father tonight — it’d been a long day.
My talk with myself had made me weary. I knew where I stood now, and I knew I could face it all tomorrow, in the gentle light of morning, but tonight it was just too much.

“I figured as much,” John said, kindly. “I took the
liberty
,” John said, pausing for comedic effect, “of having your dinner sent down here.” He went to the door, opened it, and wheeled in a cart. On it was a chicken caesar salad, a steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese, a dark chocolate brownie, a bottle of water and a large glass of white wine.
I love you
, I thought.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Can I come back later?” John asked me, huskily.

My heart started to race. “Of course,” I said, and beamed at him.

“Lock the door,” he commanded, kissing me quickly and leaving my side. “I’ll knock, but check before you let me in.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, smiling.

“It’s so much more fun when it’s
you
saying that,” he said. “Now, lock the door.”

* * *

I did as I was told. It was becoming a bit of a habit for me, and I worried about its side effects. It wasn’t like me to trust someone like I intuitively trusted John.
Careful,
said the voice in my head.
Not only are you just a pretty face, John has some serious baggage.
She was right, but for just now, I was going with it. I didn’t see much of an alternative.

I shook these thoughts off and concentrated on my dinner, happy to be alone so I could eat without feeling self-conscious. Then I spent a long time flossing and brushing my teeth. I used mouthwash. Twice. Then I crawled into bed and without another thought, I fell into a deep sleep.

The next thing I knew there was a knock on the door. I checked my clock — now it really was midnight. My heart was beating hard as I got up and looked through the peephole. John was out there, smiling at me. “Knock knock,” he said, quietly. I let him in, my heart thudding in my chest.

I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him until I saw him again.

He closed the door firmly behind him and locked it. I went to him, then, and he crushed me
to him and kissed me. Hard. I felt his tongue run deliciously into my mouth. It made me throb. I ran my hands over his chest; I could feel his powerful muscles underneath. I couldn’t wait anymore. I unbuttoned his shirt and finally, finally, felt his smooth skin, pulled tight over his taut muscles. His chest was rock hard. I ran my hands down his arms; he had huge biceps, larger than I would have expected to be hidden underneath his suit. Clearly, the man worked out.

He was still kissing me, his tongue in my mouth. Then he pulled away and kissed my face, my ear, my neck. I was breathing so hard I thought I might pass out. He picked me up and carried me to the bed, where he laid me down. He kept kissing my neck and the top of my chest; I moaned and writhed beneath him, trying to get him to lay down on me, put his full weight on me. He sat up for a second and I jumped up, too, petrified that he might be stopping. Instead, he just kissed me again, hard, and started undoing his belt.
I think I might die.
I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my temples.

He stood and took off his pants — in the darkness of the room I could see that he had on boxer briefs, and underneath them loomed an enormous erection.
Enormous.
I stopped breathing then. My insides trembled. Having never done this before, I really wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with
that
, or where it was supposed to go.

He laid down on me then, underwear still on, and I got the picture pretty clearly.
Oh my god.
The pressure of him against me down there felt so, so good. He didn’t say a word. He kept kissing me, hotly, intently, and wriggled me out of my tank top. Then as he was still laying on me, the hard part of him pressed right in between my legs, he started licking and sucking on my nipples. I cried out and arched my back, trying desperately to draw him into me through my pajama bottoms. I was a virgin, and this was the most I’d ever done, but I knew what I wanted. I felt like an animal — my biology had completely taken over. Thank goodness. If I had been in charge, I would have totally screwed it up.

“John,” I whispered, thickly. My need was so intense that I felt like I was on the verge of tears.
“Please.”

“Come here, baby,” he said, softly, commandingly, and took off my pajama bottoms
.
He kissed me then, hard, running his hands down my naked body. Electric sparks shot through me at his touch. I tried to climb onto his lap, to press him against me, but he held me down, kissing my neck, my breasts, my lips. My breathing was ragged, but he seemed in control. He licked and sucked on my nipples, going back and forth between them, as I moaned softly and arched my back.
John. Please.

He pulled back for a moment and looked at me. Then he put his hand firmly in between my legs, feeling the wetness there. All traces of self-consciousness gone, I arched my back and writhed against his palm; it felt so good, I just wanted him to touch me, to put himself inside me. Instead, he started lazily, luxuriously rubbing and pinching a spot in between my legs with his thumb and his forefinger. He kissed me harder and I moved rhythmically against his hand, wanting, needing. Then he got a wicked gleam in his eye, kissed me briefly on the lips and put his head down in between my legs. He kissed the spot he’d been rubbing, at first gently, and then harder, his mouth clamping down on that part of me that I’d never felt before. I threw my head back and cried out, helplessly. I bucked against him then, wild with need, and started screaming. He put his teeth on me, and the sharp contrast of feelings made me draw in my breath. Then he put his mouth over me and sucked again, harder, and I was wracked with spasms. My body was totally out of my control. I came, and a torrent of release washed through me, making me cry out his name over and over again.
John, John, oh, John.

It took me several dazed minutes to come back to reality, to be self conscious — and to wonder what was next. By then, he was asleep. I smoothed down his tousled hair and he moaned happily in his sleep. I laid down to join him and he threw his arm over me, pulling me to him, his warm, strong arms holding me protectively, making me feel safe. I gently kissed him on the cheek and started drifting off to sleep, somewhat less and somewhat more than the total virgin I’d been earlier that day.

I woke up the next morning with the sun streaming through the window and a big, stupid smile on my face.
Mmmmm
, I thought, relishing the relaxed feeling in my limbs.
Mmmm, mmmm, mmm….

I rolled over and there was John, watching me, with his gorgeously lined face and tousled thick brown hair.

I hope he didn’t hear me
mmmm-ing.
“Um, hi,” I squeaked, tentatively.

“Hello,” John said, an arched an eyebrow at me. I pulled the sheet over my face.

He laughed. “You don’t need to hide from me,” John said, trying to peer underneath the sheet. He lifted it up a little and looked at my naked body. “I’ve seen all of
that
,” he said, “and I liked it!”

I felt myself turn crimson and tried to stay hidden, tried not to laugh out loud.

Finally, I peeked out. “I need to brush my teeth,” I said, feebly. I had an overwhelming urge to kiss him, to rub up against him like a cat in heat, but I just couldn’t do it with morning breath. Plus, I desperately had to pee.

“Go ahead,” John said, and clasped his hands behind his head and laid back on the pillow. He looked at me gleefully.

This was when I realized what he obviously already knew: that I was totally naked, my pajamas were thrown in a ball somewhere unreachable, and it was broad daylight. I was going to have to walk to the bathroom
au natural
, and he was going to enjoy it.

I bit my lip and looked at him. After what we’d done last night, I really shouldn’t be self-conscious. But I was, and I was painfully aware of his beauty. Seeing him in the morning light only highlighted his perfection. That thick brown hair, flecked with blonde and grey, his beautiful, tanned face, and then oh my goodness, that rock hard body … I felt myself start to squirm uncomfortably with desire.
Stop, Liberty. Get a grip.
I mentally shook my head, trying to clear out the gauzy haze of lust.

I sighed, resigned. Having to pee was going to win out over my self-consciousness; more importantly, I felt the urgent need to kiss him again and I really wanted to brush my teeth first. I just had to get up, naked, and walk to the bathroom. With Mr. Perfect watching me. It’s not like I hadn’t been naked in front of tons of people before — occupational hazard. I just didn’t care about any of them the way I cared about John.
You’re young,
the voice in my head reasoned.
You’ve at least got that going for you.

I turned bright red, bolted up out of bed, and ran for it.

When I came back, moving just as quickly, John was in the same position on the bed, laughing.
Laughing at me naked.
I felt my face turn purple as I got back in, pulling the sheet and comforter around me. I wished I could disappear.

“Liberty,” he said, shaking his head. “What are you so worried about?” He looked at me, still chuckling, and then realized that I had turned violet and was about to cry. “Oh, honey,” he said, sitting up and trying to pull me to him. “Liberty, I’m just teasing you.” He stroked my hair as I sat there, stiffly.
He was laughing at me and I was naked.
My thoughts started to veer out of control, wondering how many other women he had been with and how perfect they all were.
I knew this was all a bad idea.

“Sweetheart,” he said, and gently kissed my face. “You’re so beautiful ... you’re flawless ... I thought you knew.”

He kept gently kissing the side of my face, rocking me, and I felt a stupid wave of desire roll through my belly.
Not now,
I thought. I needed this straightened out first. “You don’t have to be self-conscious around me, ever. I’m so sorry to have teased you,” John said, earnestly.

“I bet I’m the only stripper you know who blushes,” I mumbled, embarrassed for being so embarrassed, wishing the bed could swallow me up.
At least he said I was beautiful.

“You are the
only
stripper I know,” he said gently. “And yes, I know you blush. I have noticed it, and I find it quite endearing.” He leaned down and kissed me then, tenderly, and I could feel his hardness start stirring against me. I felt tears sneak out and streak down my face as I kissed him back, hard, needfully. I couldn’t handle how much he affected me, how much I wanted to please him. It was like my whole life depended on it.
This was getting out of control.

He pulled back from me and wiped my tears away. “I promise to treat you more gently,” he said. “I forget, because you’re so beautiful and young, that you have insecurities. You shouldn’t — but just because I can see how perfect you are doesn’t mean you can see it.” He smiled at me. “You are perfect, though. You should know.”

I smiled at him, then, my real smile. He knew exactly what was going on with me. It was staggering. A lifetime of loneliness, of only having myself to talk to in my head, and here he was, understanding everything perfectly. The need to cry dried up; my purpleness started to recede to a regular flushed color.

I love you,
I thought.
It’s only been a little while, but I so totally love you.

That realization, on its own, was totally frightening. I tried to push the fact that there were some extenuating circumstances that made
it all the more petrifying to the side.

I climbed on top of him then and kissed him hotly. My inner stripper was using her pelvis against him, and he threw back his head and groaned.
Take me
, I thought, I willed, but he hadn’t done it last night.

So here we were again.

Some sense of propriety was holding him back. Did he know I was a virgin, or just sense it? I wanted him so badly I couldn’t stand it.
Please, put it in me,
I thought, begging him inwardly, as I writhed against him. I didn’t care that it was so big that it was sort of scary. I was willing to take the risk.

I leaned my head down against his. “Please,”
I whispered in his ear. “I need you. Please.”

He looked at me for a moment, his eyes burning. I hoped he would give in. He moaned slightly and then he reached down and took off his briefs, and I could finally see it, tall and erect and imposing. I straddled him, not thinking, and held him in between my legs, stroking him with the wetness that had suddenly appeared there.

“Oh my god,” John said, his eyes rolling back into his head. He moaned again, louder.

I was starting to get a rhythm, rubbing him back and forth against me, getting ready. I threw back my head in pleasure. This was it.
Finally.

Then my alarm clock went off. John sat bolt upright, comically, his hair sticking out from me lustfully running my hands through it, a dazed look in his eyes. He turned the alarm off and slammed the clock down. “Liberty,” he said, gently. I ignored him and kept rocking back and forth, willing him to be quiet, to submit.

“
Liberty.
We have to stop. It’s training day,” he said, and lifted me off of him.

“Nooo,”
I whined, and tried to climb back on him.
We were so close...

He pushed me off of him again, gently. “Don’t make this more difficult than it already is,” he growled at me. Then, as if to reassure me, he grabbed the back of my hair and kissed me, hard, searchingly. It made my insides ache. He pulled away and sighed heavily.

“Let’s pick this up later.”

I nodded mutely and then sat there and pouted while he put his clothes back on. At least I got to watch. “I have to go shower and get changed before breakfast.” He tapped a bag on top of my dresser. “These are for you,” he said. “You’ll need to wear them today.” He leaned down and kissed me again, tenderly, and I wound my arms around his neck. He pressed his forehead to mine and held me like that for a minute. Instead of lustful heat I now felt warmth emanating from him, surrounding me.

I gently kissed the side of his face. “Thank you,” I said quietly.

“Twenty minutes,” he said, getting up. “Be ready.”

I sat there for a second after he left and I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. Other thoughts, troubling one, tried to creep in, but I kept them at a distance.
Then, looking at the clock, I quickly jumped up and grabbed the bag from the dresser. I couldn’t be late.

Inside the bag were more fresh, clean clothes waiting for me. I started to scowl as I inspected them further: sports bra, running shorts, tank top, running shoes.
Heh?
I’d never worn a sports bra in my life.

This couldn’t be good.

Obediently, though, I took a quick shower, pulled my hair into a high ponytail, and got dressed. I could barely breathe in the sports bra; it was like a scuba suit. I was glad that there wasn’t a full-length mirror in my room. I was positive that I looked idiotic in these pink running shorts. I pictured John smirking as he’d picked them out for me — they were absurdly short.

There was a knock at the door. I automatically went and opened it; I was surprised to see Matthew there, with a tank top and mesh shorts on.

“Oh, hi,” I said. “I was expecting John.”

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” Matthew said, smiling at me. “You didn’t look through the peephole before you answered the door. Let’s go back and do that again.” He shooed me back into the room and closed the door. He knocked again.

“Who is it?” I asked, glad that he couldn’t see me rolling my eyes. This was ridiculous.

“It’s Matthew,” he called back, and I could hear him smiling.

I looked through the peephole. “Okay, I can tell it’s you. For real,” I said, and stepped through the door.

He looked at me and laughed. “
I
do what I’m told,” he said, and gestured for me to follow him down the hallway.

“I’m trying,” I mumbled under my breath. Then, at an audible level, I asked the question I was dreading the answer to: “What exactly
is
Training Day?”

Matthew looked at me with sympathy and shook his head. “I don’t know why he calls it ‘Training Day.’ It’s really more like ‘Training Three Weeks.’ It’s a variation on the physical training you have to do for the military.” He looked at my expression, which was one of utter horror. “Aw, it’s not
that
bad. You’re in pretty good shape, right?”

“I’ve never even run a mile,” I said, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

“Well, you’re young. That’s at least in your favor,” Matthew said, kindly. “Here we are.”

He motioned me through the door to the yard, where they had erected a pop-up mess hall. There were two long tables set up, where the guys were sitting and eating; a canopy tent was overhead. There was no sign of Darius ... he wasn’t my favorite person, but I still hoped they were feeding him. Matthew showed me a buffet with serving dishes, plates, silverware and coffee. He grabbed some coffee and headed towards one of the tables. “Help yourself,” he called over his shoulder.

I started with a very large cup of coffee. I had a feeling I was going to need the extra energy. Then I grabbed a bagel and some cream cheese, because they looked familiar — something a mere mortal like me would eat. There were also lox and capers, I think, but I had never tried those before. Probably not best to be adventurous before military-style training, I reasoned. I turned and searched the room for John but I didn’t see him, so I slid into an empty seat away from the others. I noticed they were all in workout clothes, talking in boisterous voices to one another. They were all extremely fit; they probably looked forward to today.

I for one was not looking forward to it, but I dutifully drank my coffee and ate my bagel, even though there was a pit of dread in my stomach. Someone pulled back the seat next to me. I looked up into two kind blue eyes bracketed by a multitude of wrinkles.

“Well,
hello
,” said the older man. He was very dapper, wearing a cream linen blazer with a blue handkerchief sticking out of the pocket; he removed his straw fedora as he carefully sat down. “You must be Liberty,” he said, and extended his hand to shake mine. “I’m Ian, John’s father. It’s very nice to meet you.”

I quickly swallowed my bite of bagel so I could smile at him. “You as well,” I said, surprised at his firm handshake.

“So, are you ready for training?” he asked.

“Um, no, sir, not at all,” I said, sheepishly, and he laughed.

“Well, if you get too tired, you come up and see me at the big house. We can have iced tea and watch golf,” he said. “I mean it. I know John won’t want you to get hurt.”

“Of course I don’t want her to get hurt,” John said, appearing out of nowhere, smiling at his father. “But she’s not watching golf with you! Next thing I know, she’ll be obsessed, quoting statistics and talking about people’s drives.
Boring
,” he said. “I’d rather make an athlete out of her.”