Escaping Reality

get close
    enough to him.
    He lifts me onto the dresser against the wall and I do not even
    remember him shoving his pants down. There is just his mouth on mine, his
    hands on my breast, and the hard length of him pressing between my
    thighs, into the wet, sensitive V of my body.
    He is as he has never been with me. I am as I have never been with
    anyone. Wild, out of control. He is kissing me everywhere, whiskers rasping
    erotically over my skin, tongue licking and tasting, and driving me insane.
    His hands curve under my backside, arching me against him, and he pumps
    into me, drives harder and harder until we are so lost in passion, we cling to
    each other, our heads buried in each other’s necks, our bodies moving
    fiercely, urgently.
    The edge of release comes over me in an unexpected, intense
    rush—too fast, and not fast enough. I gasp with the clenching of my
    muscles and then I am there, tumbling into the dark place that is not
    danger but pleasure, millions of sensations rolling through me,
    overwhelming me. In some distant part of my mind, I register Liam’s groan,
    the shake of his body, the tension in his muscles. For long moments, or
    perhaps minutes, we just hold each other. Time stands still and then slowly
    comes back to me. It is then that I become aware of the dampness between
    my thighs and the reality of what has just happened. Panic rises in me.
    Flashes of fire burn in my mind.
    “Get off me,” I order. “Get off. Let me down from the dresser.” My
    heart is thundering and my hands are shaking.
    Liam leans back, looking baffled. “Amy—”
    “Let me go, Liam. Let me go now.”
    There is a stunned look on his face, but he doesn’t argue. He pulls out
    of me and he tries to help me off the dresser, but I don’t let him. I jump off
    the edge and run to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and cleaning myself
    up. I can feel him behind me, watching me. I can’t even clean up without
    him hovering. I can’t control my life when he’s controlling it, and yet
    another eruption of emotion is on me before I can stop it.
    I whirl on him. “We didn’t use a condom.”
    He runs a hand through his hair. “The chances that—”
    “Don’t downplay it. Don’t tell me the odds of me being pregnant are
    slim.” My voice cracks. I think I might cry. “There is a chance. There’s a big
    chance.” I look down and I’m still in my stupid sandals, though somehow
    my shirt is gone. I look ridiculous and I don’t care. “I cannot be pregnant. I
    can’t be.”
    “Is having my baby that horrible?”
    “My God. You of all people who have women chasing your money
    should be freaked out right now.”
    “I’m not.”
    “You should be. You should be, Liam. I don’t know why you don’t get
    it. Everyone in my life dies. They die. Our baby—” He steps toward me and I
    hold up a hand. “Don’t even think about it. You acted like an ass tonight
    and this is what happened. This is where it got us.”
    “I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
    “Do you think my father wanted to let my mother die?” I’m shouting.
    I never shout but I’m shouting. “You can’t protect me. No one can.” I’ve
    said too much, but it’s too late. I can’t even seem to care. My chest is
    heaving, my body trembling.
    He stares at me, and the torment in his eyes rips through my
    emotions and creates more. I am on overload, tunneling into the abyss, and
    I do not know what to do. Suddenly, I feel him, rather than my panic. He’s
    hurt. He’s really hurt. I don’t want to care, but I do. “Liam—”
    He turns and disappears. I stare after him and fight through a million
    emotions. He was an ass tonight and I should be furious, but there was
    something in him just now, really during this whole encounter, that I have
    never felt from him. Something painful.
    I grab the red silk robe he’d given me from the back of the door and
    tie it around me before seeking Liam out. I find him on the couch, his
    elbows on his knees, his head on his hands.
    “Liam?”
    He looks up at me and there is more turbulence, more darkness.
    “You’re right. I was an ass. My father called today, and it’s not an excuse.
    It’s just a fact. I always say I won’t let him mess with my head, but he does.”
    “Your father? I thought he was gone?”
    “Like I said. Sharks swimming at my feet, baby. He only calls when he
    wants money or he’s in trouble. It started out with him wanting to make
    amends, and