Page 5 of Lesson In Honesty
“Thanks for the invite,” Liam said warmly, “but I’ll need to discuss it with Sierra. She’s been a bit unsettled with the move, and stress doesn’t help her social anxiety.” He took her hand, linking her damp fingers with his. “Let me know when and where; if we can make it, we will.”
“Eight o’clock, Levi’s studio. No need to bring anything, we have supplies.”
“Maybe we’ll see you there.” There was an edge of dismissal in his tone; he wasn’t too pleased with Violet’s interruption.
“It really would be lovely to see you both.” Was that a slight inflection on the wordboth?
Her shoulders relaxed as the Domme strolled away, her high heels thudding softly on the carpet. That southern drawl did weird things to her nervous system—the rhythm and cadence was soothing, almost alluring. Violet reminded her of Connie, only… not.
“So, at least one neighbor is friendly,” Liam joked, turning his gray eyes on Sierra. She loved those eyes, not just the color, but what was in them when he looked at her. “Seems like we have a couple options for tonight’s entertainment.”
Personally, her preference was a night at Avalon, which wasn’t an option here, or a movie night with her stuffies and her man, with popcorn and maybe even a soda. Falling asleep with her head on Liam’s lap, his fingers combing through her hair because he knew it relaxed her.
Liam, however, was a different kind of animal. A social one who thrived being around people,talkingto them. He actually enjoyed finding out about their lives, listening to their hour-long life stories and quaint anecdotes. He was a focal point in Avalon because of his charm, his open ear, his ability to make people feel welcome even if they were strangers.
Plus, he was fucking gorgeous.
Around Avalon, Liam was known as the Viking Master. Tall, blond, bearded. There was that charm, yes, but when he switched gears and went into dominant mode with both barrels locked and loaded, he was divinely, deliciously deviant.
Chewing on her lower lip, Sierra thought of all the times he’d sacrificed his happiness for hers, in small ways and big ones. Thetimes he stayed home because her anxiety overwhelmed her, the nights he spent losing sleep because her dreams were haunted by Wyatt and explosions and death.
The time he moved away from the club he loved, his friends and family, everything he knew and held dear, because she was so depressed and unhappy, he felt the only way to help her was to relocate to a different state for a while.
The conference room was slowly emptying.
Fordham was talking to Elias; Levi and Evander were deep in discussion. Callie was oblivious, her gaze focused intently on the laptop screen as her fingers danced across the keyboard. A couple of the others whose names she’d missed during the introductions were standing at the window, pointing out over the expanse of the resort and the wilderness beyond.
These people would betheirpeople for the duration of their stay, Sierra realized. They’d be friends or enemies, or linger in that weird place where polite conversation was the extent of their interaction.
“Do you want to go?” she asked.
He tucked a curl of hair around her ear. “I won’t go without you.”
“That wasn’t what I asked. Do you want to go for drinks and… nibbles?”
“Minx, trust me, I’ll be nibbling on something.” He lifted her hand to his lips and nipped the knuckles.
Insides clenching, Sierra embraced the shiver rippling down her spine. It had been too long since they’d been physically intimate; whenever she remembered her empty womb and the fact it was likely to stay barren and dead, her libido dried up faster than sweat in the desert.
Sacrifice, she reminded herself. “Maybe we should go. For an hour.”
“We can do an hour. If you’re sure.”
When she nodded, it was worth the gut-twisting dread in her stomach to see the light in his eyes. It wasn’t even like he was grateful to be getting away from her for the evening—he’d show her off to his new colleagues with pride, as though she was a leggy, perfect supermodel straight off the Paris catwalk, without a hint of hesitation.
“Grab your stuff, minx. We’ll find some food, then maybe take a nap.” The hope in his eyes told her he was thinking along carnal lines.
Clutching her sewing pouch with her free hand, she stood when he rose, keeping their fingers linked. They waved goodbye to the others, although hers was a little shy, and stepped out of the conference room into the hall with its vast amount of doors.
The top floor of the clubhouse was divided into two; one end contained the official side of Serenity—the conference room, manager’s office, janitorial services, and an efficient, non-play medical station—while the other half was a range of guest rooms.
She followed Liam down the stairs, feeling self-conscious about her battered sneakers every time she took a step on the pristine carpet. All the opulence made her uncomfortable, as though she might mar the beauty of it with her unremarkable presence.
Downstairs, the afternoon sun shone onto acres of wood polished to absolute perfection. Brass gleamed, and the bottles around the circular bar streamed multicolored beams through the empty room. A kaleidoscope of colorful fire.
The floorboards were just as shiny, without a trace of the blood spilled there only a few months ago. A man, an awful and irredeemable man, had died with a knife in his chest, and Tabitha… well, the three gunshot wounds she’d taken to the chest were almost the end of her.
Not that Liam had told Sierra much about the disaster; most of what she knew, she’d learned from the others at Avalon, or eavesdropped when he thought she was asleep. He tried to protect her from anything he believed would hurt her, but they both understood she’d been unprotected for a long time before he came into her world.