A Dom Is Forever (7 page)

“That wasn’t King Tut.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not enormously big on Egyptian history. So we’ve decided that you’re a little distractible and it totally affects your social skills, but luckily I’m a very focused guy and I can be polite enough for both of us. I can teach you how the polite world works.” He held out a big hand. “Lee Donnelly. I work in construction back in the States. I just finished a huge renovation job back in Dallas and gave myself two months off to come visit some friends here in London. This is the part where you shake my hand and tell me your name and what you do.”

“Avery Charles.” He’d kind of put her in a corner. There was nothing to do except take his hand. She quickly found her own hand completely wrapped in his. Warmth flooded her system. He had strong hands, callused and rough from work, but so nice to touch. Lee. She liked that name. It was solid and masculine and simple. “I’m the personal assistant to a man who runs a charity fund.”

He nodded at her like she was a slow learner who had finally caught on. “See, that wasn’t so hard. And do you live here in London?”

She kind of wanted to run away, but she had the sudden sense that he would follow, and he would be so much faster. She was caught. Trapped. So why shouldn’t she enjoy the afternoon with the most beautiful man she’d ever met? There wasn’t any harm in it. She spent so much time alone that it would be nice to have a meal with a handsome stranger, and he was obviously at loose ends. He probably felt as out of place as she did and was just looking for some company. Despite the fact that the employees of United One Fund were friendly, no one asked her to have lunch with them. They had their own cliques and friendships, and it would be that way everywhere she and Thomas went.

What could it hurt to make a friend? He was probably just looking for someone to buy him lunch. It might be nice to have someone to talk to.

“I’m from New York,” she replied, allowing her shoulders to come down from around her ears. Now that she’d made the choice to get to know him, she found herself eager to ask him a few questions. “Are you from Dallas?”

“Not originally, though I’ve spent the last several years there. Wow. It’s getting late. Time flies when you’re having fun.” He moved out of the doorway, his hand moving in a graceful gesture. “Let’s go grab some grub as they would say in my neck of the woods. I’m starving.”

She followed him out of the museum, hoping all the while she wasn’t making a mistake.

* * * *

Liam followed her to the door of her building.

“Thanks for escorting me home.” She flushed beautifully in the early evening light. People rushed up and down
Bishopsgate
Street, but she seemed to have a core calm inside her that made her stand out from the frantic London pace.

He was surprised at just how protective he’d gotten in the last five hours. Avery moved with caution when she was thinking about it, her every step well thought out and intended to keep her on balance. But when she stopped thinking, there was a sweet grace to her steps, a sway to those curvy hips that had him entranced.

She was utterly unlike any woman he’d ever met. Smart. Sweet. Kind.

Was it all an act? He rather thought not so the question was just how she’d gotten involved with a man who was in business with Eli Nelson.

“What happened to your leg? It’s your right leg, isn’t it?” He’d waited all through lunch and the hours they’d spent at the museum for her to bring it up. Most people enjoyed talking about their past pain, holding it up as some sort of excuse for all things in their lives. Not Avery. She hadn’t mentioned it once. All he’d gotten out of her the whole time they had walked through the museum was that she’d been born in New York. She didn’t have siblings, and her parents had died when she was young.

No mention of her crappy childhood. No mention of everything she’d lost.

She flushed, biting that bottom lip of hers. Fuck, he liked her lips. If she’d put a gloss on them, it had come off hours ago. The pretty pink color was all her own and the bottom lip was pouty and plush. When she ran her tongue over it, his cock hardened in response. “I was in an accident. A car accident. It kind of affected my legs. I’m still a little weak on the right side, hence all the near misses. I’m not usually so clumsy. I try to keep my pratfalls to once a day.”

But she’d been distracted. He’d made a careful study of her over the last week. She was right. She usually wasn’t so clumsy. She usually made her way with careful resolve, but she’d been animatedly talking all afternoon as though having a companion to tour with was a special treat for her.

She was lonely. He could use that.

The trouble was, he was starting to think he was lonely, too. He’d enjoyed the afternoon with her far too much. His previous years’ worth of dates had consisted of picking up some willing young thing and topping her for a while before he fucked her and sent her on her way with cab fare.

He hadn’t spent a lazy afternoon with any woman just looking at art or weird dog statues. And yet he’d found himself staring at the big marble dog someone in ancient Greece had carved thousands of years ago and listening to Avery’s chatter about the clean lines and perfect construction, and all he had been able to think about was the fact that maybe he was as stuck as that dog. Maybe he was carved from marble, unmoving, unchanging, and had been ever since that day he’d lost his brother.

It was stupid, but five hours with the woman and he’d relaxed more than he had in years.

But he had a job to do. “I’ve had a few accidents in my time. Working construction can be hell on a man. Sometime I’ll tell you about the hole in my back. Man versus nail gun. Nail gun won.”

He fully intended to tell her that fabrication once he got her horizontal. There was no way to miss the bullet wound he’d taken during his SAS years, but the nail gun was a convenient lie.

Her eyes widened. “That sounds horrible.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I got a body covered in scars, but then who doesn’t? If you don’t have a few scars, you haven’t really lived.”

She blushed again, her whole face turning red. If he had to bet, he would say she couldn’t lie to save her life. “I know how that goes. Thank you so much for the nice day. It was good to have someone to talk to.”

She was right back to where they’d been before lunch. Wary. Cautious. For a few hours she’d been open and smiling. At one point, she’d even held his hand as a wave of people came off the Tube at
Holborn
. They’d been standing by the tracks, chatting about all the places she wanted to see and the things she wanted to do while she was in London, and the Tube doors had opened, busy Londoners rushing past. They’d almost been separated. Her hand had come out, seeking his, a nervous look in her eyes as though the crowd frightened her.

He’d been taken over by the oddest emotion. He’d pulled her close as the crush engulfed them, his left hand covering the back of her head and pulling her into his chest.

And now she was dismissing him without so much as another date? That wasn’t going to happen. “The day isn’t over yet.”

She frowned. “What do you want from me?”

He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected a coy invitation to come inside or a little angling for another date. “I like you.”

“You don’t really know me, and I’m not blind. There are far prettier women just walking down this street. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I can’t figure out what you want. If you would please tell me, I’ll see if I can give it to you.”

He stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out her game. “What are you talking about?”

She sighed as though trying to find a way to say what she wanted to say. “I don’t have a lot of money but if you need some, I can give you a little.”

He crowded her, anger starting to take root in his gut. What exactly did she think he was? “You tell me what you’re talking about and you do it now, girl.”

Damn, but he’d almost lost it and gone into his Irish accent.

She trembled a little as he backed her up against the building. Her eyes flashed from right to left, looking for a little help, but everyone ignored her. Liam was counting on that. It was a big city. Unless she just flat wanted to scream for help, everyone would ignore their little scene. It was time to start showing the sub who topped whom.

“You have an idea about me, Avery, don’t you?” He was well aware his voice had gone deeper than she’d heard all day. It was the voice he used when training a sub. Hard. Unrelenting. Dominant. “Put it in plain English. I’d like to hear it.”

“You’re scaring me.” She put her hands up as though that could possibly stop him.

“And I think you’re insulting me.” He came up with two ideas she could possibly have about him. Both of them insulting. Neither of them right. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but do you think I’m indigent and need a handout?”

She huffed, her eyes on her hands. “No. Obviously not. You’re very well dressed. You obviously have money.”

So it was door number two. “And you think I get it by hustling women out of cash. You think if you invite me upstairs, you’re agreeing to have sex with me for money. Tell me something, little girl, just how much would I have charged?”

The sub thought he was a hustler, did she? The thought didn’t sit well. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew he should be laughing this off, but it just made him angry. She was so sweet and innocent, and he was just a nasty, disgusting brute. It hit way too close to home.

“Does it help if I thought you would be worth a lot, and I was worried I didn’t have the money?” Those big eyes looked up, wide and slightly afraid, but there was a hint of sass to her words.

He pressed his advantage, crowding her until their bodies came together. “Well now, Avery. If a man is going to get accused of being a prostitute, the very least you can do is accuse him of being an expensive one. And no. I wasn’t going to charge you, but I was damn straight going to get in your pants.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she started.

But he was done talking to her. Talking to her all day had just made her think he was so dumb he couldn’t find work that didn’t involve his dick. The fact that she was his work and she definitely involved his dick didn’t matter. All that mattered now was making a damn good impression on the lady.

Before she could get another word in, he swooped in, lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers.

He’d already planned their first kiss. He’d viewed it like a coach planning a football play. He’d gone over every instant in his head, each move meant to gain maximum trust from Avery. Gentle. Soft.

All that careful planning was blown straight out of the water the minute his lips touched hers. He was overwhelmed with the need to dominate. His hands came up, tangling in that soft cloud of hair and forcing her head back so he could take her mouth. His lips pressed to hers, molding over that bee-stung bottom lip. He sucked it into his mouth, drawing his tongue across it. So plump and firm. He wanted to suck on it and give her a little nip. Yeah, she might like a little bite of pain. God knew he did.

“Open your mouth for me,” he demanded. He could force her to do it, but he wanted her submission. He wanted her willing. He fully intended to walk away, but he wanted her hot and desperate first. He wanted her thinking about him all fucking night long.

“I don’t think…” She sounded breathless. Her hands were still on his chest, but she wasn’t pushing at him. In fact, her hands were moving against his chest almost restlessly. “God, I need to stop thinking.”

She turned her head up, and it was all the invitation he needed. He took her mouth, those sexy lips opening for him. His tongue surged inside, and she was every bit as sweet and hot as he’d thought she would be. He slanted his mouth over hers, coaxing her tongue with his.

She was still for a long moment, utterly motionless in his arms, but then her tongue slid along his almost shyly as though she’d forgotten somewhere along the way how to play this particular game, but she was willing to try.

Her arms drifted up, and he could feel her lifting herself on her toes, throwing herself into the kiss. Pure lust pounded through Liam’s system as she opened herself to him.

This. This was what he’d wanted since the first moment he’d seen her. This sweet, perfect harmony that flowed between them. There was no wall up now, no wariness. It was like she’d been in the Tube station when she’d been afraid to get separated from him. She clung to him like he was her lifeline, like he was the only thing between her and being utterly swept away.

And he liked it. He’d never wanted a clingy woman. He didn’t have anything to offer them. It was why he chose women who knew the score, who knew that it was all just a fun game and the only thing that they could ever get out of him was momentary pleasure.

Avery didn’t even know what the game was called.

And it didn’t matter. In that moment, all that mattered was that she was submitting and he could get inside her. Once he was inside her, he would have her. He would make damn sure if she was involved in this mess that she picked the right fucking side to come down on. She would do it because he would wrap her in so much pleasure that her loyalty would belong to him and him alone.

He pressed his cock against her belly so there could be no doubt what was going to happen between them. He didn’t want her money. He wanted her body and her secrets. Yes, he would settle for those.

Her arms tightened, and he could feel her breasts thrusting up against his chest as her leg startled to tangle with his. Control. He was losing his, and it seemed she wasn’t far behind.

And then her leg buckled, her whole body sagging.

Liam tightened his hold and kept her upright, but the moment was broken.

And he’d damn near fucked her right on the street in front of Liverpool station for all to see. The bloody police station was not a block away, and he was nearly going at her in public. What the fuck had just happened?

He’d almost forgotten everything.

“I’m so sorry,” Avery mumbled.