Vivian's List (Vol. 1) (17 page)

Each kind was different and I needed to find out what worked for me.

The more time I spent with Liam, the more I found myself being a quiet love type of person. I found joy in the little things that Liam did, like cooking for me, helping me with the housework, putting gas in my car, cuddling with me at night.

I d
idn’t need him to shout his love from the rooftops like Brody had because although Liam had never said those three words, I already knew. I
felt
it.

My heart slowed to a thud
. So where did this leave me now?

Don’t fall for Liam
, a small voice whispered in my heart.
He’s leaving soon.

Too late,
I realized for in my heart I knew it was a fact that had already come to pass.

Chapter Nineteen

Vivian

Mom used to say, “The dog is your co-pilot. May the two of you soar!”

I
was reminded of this for no sooner had I snapped on Atticus’s leash, he lurched out the front door, chugging forward and straining against his leash, his legs pounding faster and faster across the pavement with me in tow.

“Wait up!” Chelsea yelled, bolting after me. “Are you walking the dog or is the dog walking you?”

“C’mon, Chels!” I called over my shoulder. “You run like a girl!”

“I
am
a girl.” Huffing and puffing, she finally caught up to me. “So is this your dog or is this Liam’s dog?”

A flutter of joy quickened my pulse.
“Atticus is
our
dog.”

Our.
Such a simple, little word, and yet it set my heart racing.

“Oh
.” Chelsea lightly tapped a finger on her chin as she considered my response. It’s a shame she didn’t have a beard to stroke, too. “
Interestinger
and
interestinger
.” After a slight pause, she asked, “Where’s lover boy now?”

“He
’s at the pet store.” I stopped in my tracks as Atticus circled and sniffed, looking for that sacred spot. “The dog food we got didn’t really sit well with Atticus, so he’s getting him something else.”

“I see.
” She was quiet for a moment. Then she tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “By the way, how’s the sexual bucket list going?”

“It’s going,
” I said coyly.

“Details,” she pressed.
“I want details.”

I allowed myself a tiny smile. I
couldn’t possibly tell her that it was love that filled my heart as Liam filled my body with his own.

Not wanting to give away too much,
I kept it light and superficial. “I saw his face when he climaxed today.”

Chelsea made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “Oh, God. I’ve seen my Johnny’s orgasm face.
Let me tell you, when his face contorts, it’s almost too painful to even watch. Seriously, he looks as if he’s experiencing some kind of bowel-racking, tear-jerking, gut-wrenching sensation.” She stopped for a moment and shuddered. “His whole face scrunches up and it kind of shifts between this meridian of constipation, and an artery-bursting orgasm. And let me tell you, it’s scarier than shit.”

“Really,
Chels?” I could barely contain myself. “Tear jerking?”

“
Yep.” She flashed me one of her quick manic grins. “Johnny does this cum-cry like he’s super happy and sad at the same time. Scares the living daylights outta me.”

“
Chels,” I chided, choking back a laugh. “I swear sometimes, you’re completely whackadoodle.”

“What?
” she said in some surprise. “You mean Liam doesn’t do the cum-cry when he blows his wad?”

“No
. He. Does. Not.”

“Does he look constipated?”

“Nope.” I shook my head and a dreamy sigh escaped me. “He actually looks really hot. Savagely beautiful.”

“Savagely beautiful?” Chelsea arched a delicate brow.
“Now who’s the whacakadoodle one here?”

Suddenly,
Atticus lunged forward and once again we tore down the sidewalk, leaving Chelsea in the dust.

“Hey!
” Chelsea shouted after us. “I thought you said that dog has terminal cancer.”

“
He does!” I yelled over my shoulder. “He just has these huge spurts of energy.”

As
my co-pilot dragged me along the sidewalk like he was hauling freight across Alaska’s arctic tundra, Chelsea’s parting words began to sink in.

Atticus ha
s
terminal
cancer.

I sucked in a
shaky breath, knowing only too well that I had a short amount of time before reality intruded.

Sooner or later
I’d be saying good-bye to Atticus … and Liam.

Over the next several days, we kept things light and casual, mostly because I was afraid to ask Liam to define our relationship.
I didn’t want to be the one to ruin things by talking about it.

Instead, w
e took Atticus for long walks, we volunteered at the shelter, we had quiet dinners, we enjoyed late night snacks of pizza and beer, we spent rainy afternoons watching Netflix with Atticus curled up beside us, we talked and laughed in bed, lost in each other’s arms, and we had lots and lots of steaming hot sex.

The closeness we
shared had seemed like a moment out of time; it stretched and stretched, swallowing up all the moments that came before it.

Liam allowed me to draw sustenance from him … from his lips,
from his body, and from
him
.

And
I marveled at this man who had picked up every jagged little shard of my shattered heart and pieced it back together, replacing it with a piece of his own.

As clichéd and as corny as it
might sound, he made me feel cherished, and he made me whole. He helped me be
me
again.

Now … now he was leaving in two days.

The Netflix movie ended and the credits began rolling. I was sitting cross-legged on the sofa with Atticus resting quietly on my lap. When I flicked my gaze sideways, Liam was studying me with those dark hazel eyes filled with muted concern.

“Come closer,” he said, a
half smile starting at the corner of his mouth.

I inched closer
and Liam captured my lips, kissing me tenderly, our tongues sweetly interlocking, our breaths hot and moist.

He
took his sweet time with the kiss. He never demanded more from me than I was willing to give. There was never any pressure, never any expectations, and that only made me want to give him so much more.

In a way, that kind of summed up our relationship.

“You’re leaving soon,” I stated the blindingly obvious as he gently broke the kiss.

He smoothed the hair from my brows and said quietly, “I know.
”

My throat grew so tight that it was hard to get the words out
. “It scares me.”

He wrapped
his arms around my waist and held me close. “There’s no need to be scared. I’ll be back in a few months.”

I drew in a deep breath, knowing that the next six months without Liam would be the longest six months of my life.

“Tell me,” I said softly, resting my head against his shoulder, “about what you do in Iraq.”

He sighed into my hair.
“Really, it’s nothing that exciting.”

“I’d still like to know,
” I murmured like a content cat as he began stroking my back.

I
was half-starved to hear about what went on over there so I could understand what Liam’s life was like. And what my brother’s life was like.

Though we
had grown apart, I still thought of Julian often, prayed that he’d come home safe.

Liam’s
hand went slack on my back. There was a long and thickening pause before he spoke. “My company—Bravo company—we work in Dohuk. It’s a town with deep layers of distrust. When we first rolled in with our Bradleys, children threw rocks at us. The local townspeople confronted us with deep suspicions. Sometimes …” He paused for a moment and I felt him flinch. “I could feel their deep hatred for us.”

I spoke carefully.
“Is it still that bad?”

He shrugged
. “It’s better. Over the past year I’ve tried really hard to establish trust with the local leaders. Trust creates dialogue, and communication helps reduce violence. I guess I understood that from the get-go. I knew that working against the locals by simply imposing our will wasn’t the answer. If we want to make any sort of difference, we have to work with them.”

“Were they willing?
” I asked, lifting my head from his shoulder only a little, so that I could gaze up at him. “To work with you?”

“I
t took some time. But, yeah.” He nodded. “Eventually they were.”

I lifted my brows in respectful surprise.
“How’d you manage to pull that one off?”

He had a faraway look in his eyes and his voice sounded distant when he spoke.
“About a month after we’d rolled into Dohuk, a prominent sheikh’s brother died. The sheikh was a central figure and any meaningful dialogue had to start with him. So I asked my entire platoon to attend the service to show our respect for the sheikh and his family.” He paused. “Most of my men were on board. Only two didn’t want to have anything to do with it. Anyway before the service, I had my translator prep us so we could follow their customs and act respectfully. I wanted to show the sheikh, his family, and the local townspeople that we respected their customs and that we’d made an effort to learn them.”

I could not
help but smile. It was such a practical, Liam-like thing to do. “Did they appreciate the gesture?”

“I think so. At least, I know the sheik
h did. At the end of the service, the sheikh came up to me and expressed his gratitude. And that, you could say, was the beginning of dialogue.” A hint of pride tinged his voice. “Now we have regular town meetings where the locals share their concerns and we, in turn, share ours. Our primary concern is to keep the town safe and maintain order … and to some degree, with the help of the locals, I think we’ve achieved that. It didn’t happen overnight, but we’re certainly moving in the right direction.” He grew quiet a moment. “We tend to paint with broad brushes and think in terms of
us
versus
them
. But in reality, the Iraqis are a lot like us. They want to live in a safe, secure environment, raise their families, provide for them and leave the next generation in a better position that they are in.”

Words spilled across my thoughts.
“Do you think you’re leaving the Iraqis in a better position?”

He
sucked in a deep breath and he didn’t even try to mask the vulnerability in his eyes. “Yes and no. There’s still so much that needs to be done. Road projects that aren’t completed, water projects that haven’t even begun. Just four months ago, thirty-five Iraqi police officers were killed by al-Qaida insurgents for working alongside the Coalition forces. We’re still conducting raids and arresting terrorists, and we’re still engaged in regular combat. We still encounter women in the streets who are screaming hysterically and crying out for help because their husbands and their kids had gotten kidnapped by al-Qaida. We still see children who have become orphans overnight, their entire families wiped out by this ongoing war.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Some days I feel hopeful but most days I feel so fuckin’ hopeless. Helpless.” He stared into space with a still expression on his face. “I’m just a nobody from nowhere …” He didn’t say any more, but his eyes said the rest.

Dogs must
have an innate sense of when and who to provide comfort to because Atticus, who had been snoozing quietly by my side, suddenly got up and snuggled onto Liam’s lap.

Emotion pinched sweetly in my chest
as Atticus gazed lovingly into Liam’s eyes, wiggling his way into his heart.

Every man was a hero in his dog’s eyes.

Despite Liam’s feelings, Atticus showed him that he wasn’t a nobody from nowhere. In Atticus’s eyes, Liam was the most important person in the world.

P
erhaps in my eyes, too, and in my heart, Liam was becoming the most important person in the world.

Chapter
Twenty

Vivian

Swimming helps me clear my mind. It helps me drown my troubles. I don’t ever know how many laps I do. I don’t need to know the distance, I just swim and everything else melts away. Atticus’s health problems, Liam’s impending return to Iraq looming ahead of me … I wanted all that to just melt away with each stroke.

Holding my breath,
I lifted myself on my toes and was about ready to dive in when—

“Look o
ut!” Liam shouted from behind me.

Sprinting
toward the pool, he jumped off the side and cannonballed into the water, sending a tidal wave in every which direction.

Seconds later, he
broke the surface for air. “Did you wear that red bikini just for me?” he asked, giving me that lopsided grin I loved so much.

“No,
” I said wryly, even though I
had
worn it especially for him.

H
is eyes roamed over every curve of my body, his bold appraisal heating me from the inside out. “You look sexy as hell.”

I started to say so
mething, but the sight of Liam staring at me so wantonly robbed me of my voice. Pulling in a deep breath, I executed a perfect swan dive and sliced through the water, barely stirring a ripple.

“Show off,” Liam teased
.

I sent him a dazzling smile and
started swimming like I was competing in a one hundred yard freestyle race.

“Are we racing?”
he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he matched me stroke for stroke.

“If you’re swimming right next to me, the answer is
yes
, we are racing.” It’s not that I ever plan on doing it, it just always sort of happens. Surely ten years on the swim team would bring out the competitive streak in anyone.

Despite it being
a close race, I managed to finish strong.

Liam surfaced seconds later.
“Damn, Viv,” he said, shoving a hand through his wet hair. “You always win.”

“
I keep telling you, if you want to go faster you need to use longer strokes
not
faster strokes.”

Amusement glimmered in his eyes and a lazy smile played about his lips.
“Why don’t you show me?”

“Okay
.” I swam back to the other side, thrusting my body through the water, maximizing the propulsive power in each stroke.

When I reached the shallow end, I let my feet touch the bottom
of the pool. “Did you see what I was doing? As you swim, use your hands to lengthen your bodyline. You’re using your hands as a paddle to push you forward. Try not to do that.”

“Got it, coach!
” He gave me a silent salute. Then he started swimming toward me.

“Liam.”
I could barely contain my laughter as he reached the shallow end. “Taking fewer strokes is not just a matter of subtracting strokes. To create propulsion, you need to be thrusting your body through the water. It helps your body travel further every time you take a stroke and—”

I
stopped when I saw the way his eyes darkened with intent. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

Laughing again, I splashed him playfully. “I wasn’t talking dirty.”

With his gaze still fixed on me, he backed me to the edge of the pool, the water coming to just under my bikini top.

Right away, I knew why he had backed me into this
exact corner. I felt the water jets pulsing at the apex of my thighs. “Thrusting,” he said in a thick voice. “Propulsion.” He stood close. Indecently close, his arms braced on either side of me.

Because he seemed to expect it, I spread my
legs and he positioned himself between my thighs.

As he kissed the chlorine from my lips, he
reached around my neck and his fingers found the halter straps of my bikini top. He gently tugged, and the straps came undone.

I watched as my bikini top
floated away from us.

He pulled back slightly, skimming
his hands up my torso and over the buoyant swells of my breasts as they bobbed on the surface. “I’ve been dreaming about these double lattes all day.”

“Double lattes?” My eyes
gleamed with amusement. “Or Double Whoppers?”

“See.” The corners
of his mouth lifted into a half smile. “You
do
like to talk dirty.”

Hungrily
, he lifted, caressed and sucked the chlorine from my tits as the water jets pounded the sensitive nub between my thighs, the pressure vibrating against my soft, inner folds.

A quivering sigh slipped free as I let the sensations consume me.

Then I felt his hands on my hips, his warm fingers tugging the strings on both sides of my bikini bottom.

My
quivering sighs melted into breathless moans as the warm jets now pounded against my bared sex.

“Liam,” I breathed
, wrapping my legs around his waist.

His hands
slid down to cup my ass, crushing me against his swelling erection.

Unable to restrain myself, I began
rubbing my breasts against his chest, hoping to ease the sweet ache in my nipples.

Obligingly, h
e dipped his head and circled my nipple with his tongue, drawing the throbbing bud into his mouth.

“Liam,” I choked on a sob as he suckled, released and then lapped
up the droplets from my water-slicked breasts.

“I know,”
he grunted, his voice growing hoarse. “I’ll go.”

“No,” I protested. “I’ll go.”
Without another word, I unlocked my legs, slid off his slippery body, and departed on my errand … condoms.