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“I’ve been working.”
“Mmm-hmm, and you only work this hard when you’re upset. Try again.”
She sniffled. “I’ve been sad.”
“Now we’re getting to it. We’re not going to stop trying for a baby, Sierra. I promise you. But we moved here to help you relax and destress; that’s going to take time because you’re wound tighter than a coiled spring without realizing it.” His thumbs stroked her cheekbones, then the bruises under her eyes. “What else is bothering you aside from your period?”
Heat streaked up her neck. Christ, why didn’t he just use the Tannoy system to announce it to everyone on the damn property? “Can we please talk about this at home?”
“No. I asked Van to bring you here because otherwise you squirrel yourself away in the living room with the stuffie mission and close off. I’ve been lax in my responsibilities, Sierra, by allowing you to do that, and I’ve decided that it’s going to change. A new start for us both and a fresh set of rules.”
Oh boy, that didn’t sound good. As far as she was concerned, he was strict enough just as he was—her ass would attest to thatin court, one cheek on the Bible as it vowed to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
“So, why is the love of my life this unhappy?” Eyes softening, he asked, “Do you want to go home, Sierra? Back to Phoenix?”
She almost said yes. It came damn close to tripping off her tongue on the next breath, but something made her hesitate. Did she miss Phoenix? Not particularly. Did she miss Avalon, her friends, the family they’d made from scratch?
Yes, like fucking crazy.
But was she homesick? Desperate to go back to the place where all her memories of Wyatt ambushed her at every turn?
No.
Serenity lived up its name, or had until the masses descended and threatened to breach the carefully maintained boundary lines of her newfound peace.
Shaking her head, Sierra answered truthfully. “No, Sir, I don’t.”
“Are you missing Wyatt?”
She missed the man he might have been, she thought. The one who was learning not to be a gigantic asshole, the one who sacrificed himself to save a friend. Unfortunately that man hadn’t shown his face all too often, and the one who appeared most had been the cause of a lot of her pain. “No.”
Liam nodded in understanding. “I get it. If you’re not homesick and you’re not missing Wyatt, what’s wrong?” When her eyes drifted past him to the unfamiliar faces around them—some of them watching her, some not—and her fingers lifted to touch her face, he made a displeased sound. “We’re back to this, are we? Damn it, Sierra, I thought we’d built your self-confidence up enough to avoid this.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize.” He kissed her forehead. “I need to make some changes to the scene I planned for tonight, minx. While Ido that, you’re going to strip and present yourself on your knees. Right here,” he added, snapping his fingers and pointing to the floor in front of her chair. “In the next thirty seconds.”
A direct order she could handle, she thought with relief. It was so much easier to obey than to think when she found herself in situations too uncomfortable for her brain to manage.
When Liam stepped back, pulling his phone from his pocket, she slid off the bar stool and methodically started removing her clothing, starting with Evander’s jacket. Seconds counted down in her head, and by the time she reached thirty, her knees were touching the floor, her palms upturned on her spread thighs, with her back straight and head dipped.
Liam’s hand rested on her hair, his fingers tapping in a one-two-three rhythm she knew all too well. Air exhaled from her lungs on a long, slow breath of submission, and peace followed on its heels.
Like this, she could ignore the stares burning into her and the whispers swirling around like embers in the wind. All she needed to do was focus on the soft tap-tap-tap and remember all the times he’d given her that silent signal, the one he’d made so long ago to forge trust and reassurance between them.
Like this, she was his, no matter what happened next.
Chapter Four
Maverick
By God, he’d stepped into Nirvana.
Never in a million years had he expectedthiswhen his best friend booked him a month’s stay at what Tristan proclaimed was going to bethehottest kink destination in all fifty states by the time the year rolled to an end.
Tristan might be a considerable dick when he wanted to be, but Mack admitted the guy had taste—and money. Not that Mack was destitute, far from it, but he certainly didn’t have the kind of cash on hand that made a month’s vacation at Serenity possible on a whim.
Not yet, anyway.
