Liability (2 page)

“Anything else?” I tease, making her smile, which does some funny shit in my chest where my heart’s supposed to be.

“I don’t think so,” she whispers softly.

Leaning forward, I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and run my fingers down the length of her jaw. “Get changed, and I’ll get us some food,” I say, watching her nod as I leave my room, closing the door quietly behind me.

Going to the bar in the kitchen, I pull out one of the menus I’ve collected and put my phone to my ear then look towards the bedroom door, adjusting myself as I picture her on the other side slipping out of her dress.

W
atching Fern walk out of my bedroom wearing my shirt is one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen in my life. Her long red hair is still down, but without the headband to hold it away from her face, she seems almost wild.

Tracking her as she goes to the window, I move to her without thinking, pressing myself to her back, and wrap my hands around her front. I hear her squeak as I lick up the side of her neck, where I growl, “You don’t have a bra on,” while cupping her breast through the thin material of my shirt.

“Carter,” she whimpers as her head tilts, allowing me full access to the column of her throat.

“What do you want, beautiful?” I ask, nipping her neck, feeling her shiver against me.

“I...I don’t know,” she breathes, arching into me, her movements letting me know how innocent she is, and that alone is intoxicating.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I ask, plucking at her nipple while kissing the skin below her ear.

“No,” she says, shaking frantically in my arms.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I ask, roaming my hand down her stomach, feeling myself tense, not sure how I will react if she tells me yes.

“No!” she cries out as I pet her over the silk of her panties, feeling wet on my fingertips then growling low in my throat when I hear the buzz for the door.

“I should eat you for dinner. Would you like that, Fern? Would you like to be my meal?” I ask as my fingers rub vigorously against her, needing her orgasm like it’s my own. “If you’re a good girl, baby, I’ll eat you for dessert,” I whisper, hearing her moan and feeling her slide over the edge at my words, which causes her body to go limp in my arms.

Smiling against her neck, I pick her up and carry her to the couch, where I lay her down, placing a kiss on her lips and covering her with a blanket before going to the phone and telling the concierge to let the delivery man up.

Knowing I won’t be able to keep my hands off her, I step out the front door and pace. I feel like a wild animal. I want her to myself. I want her naked. I want my mark on her and in her. And I don’t want to share her with anyone.

Spotting the deliveryman as he gets off the elevator, I give him a hundred dollar bill and tell him to keep the change before going back into the apartment, finding Fern just where I left her on the couch.

Setting the food down on the counter, I go to stand in front of her. She looks peaceful lying there, her hair spread out around her, her face soft with sleep. Moving, she kicks one leg out of the blanket, bending it at the knee. Without thinking, I drop to the floor next to her and move the blanket out of the way, being careful not to wake her as I do. My shirt has ridden up, showing the flesh of her belly and the silk nude panties she’s wearing. Leaning forward, I run my nose up the center of her core, smelling her innocence.

“Carter.”

My eyes meet her unsure ones as I press my hand to her belly to hold her down, and I use my teeth to nip at the lips of her pussy. 

“I’m really hungry, Fern.” I bite her again. “Starving,” I tell her, pulling her panties to the side, listening to her breathing become labored as my tongue works through the lips of her pussy, drinking in her essence as she spreads her legs farther, giving herself completely to me.

“You’re being a very good girl,” I praise her, lifting her thighs up and over my shoulders until her body is bent almost double and my face is buried deep between her legs, eating her like I’m a starved man. Sliding one finger inside her, I feel how tight she is and the thin barrier of her innocence as she screams out with her orgasm. Her small hands hold onto my hair as I wipe my face on her inner thigh, pulling her panties back over her pussy, covering her and giving her one little kiss before helping her sit up.

“Do you want to eat in here, or in the kitchen?” I ask, pulling her into my lap, where I notice she fits perfectly.

“What?” she asks, pulling her head away from my chest and blinking up at me, looking adorably disheveled.

“Would you like to eat dinner in here, on the couch, or in the kitchen, at the bar?”

“Oh...wherever you want is fine with me,” she says, laying her head back down.

“In the kitchen,” I say, knowing if we stay in here I will not be able to keep my hands off her and she will most likely end up riding my face before she’s able to have one bite of her meal. She will need her strength for the things I have planned for us.

Lifting her off me, I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen, getting her settled on one of the barstools and stealing a kiss before going to the fridge. “What would you like to drink?”

“Do you have sweet tea?” she asks quietly, studying my every move.

“I don’t, but I’ll tell Sue, my housekeeper, to pick some up,” I tell her, and her brows pull together.

“You’re going to be here a lot, Fern. You opened your legs for me, let me eat your sweet little pussy and feel your virgin cherry on my finger. That cherry is mine, your body is mine, and you are mine. Like I said, you’re going to be here a lot,” I promise.

“You’re scaring me,” she says, breathing heavily.

“You’ll get over it, and you’ll get used to me.”

I know she wants to say more, but she smartly presses her lips together. If she thinks I’m going to give her up, she has another think coming. She’s lucky she’s in school, or I would find a way to move her in with me.

Grabbing her a juice and myself a beer, I pull off my shirt and toss it toward the living room before sitting down on the stool across from her.

“Eat, baby,” I nudge her knee, bringing her eyes from my chest up to mine, waiting for her to take a bite before I do.

“My grandfather talks about you,” she says, moving around a piece of sushi on her plate.

“What does he say?” I ask her, seeing her face has lost some of its color.

“Nothing, I don’t know why I brought it up.”

“Tell me,” I command, sitting back and crossing my arms over my now bare chest.

“He... he says you’re a player, that you will never settle down,” she whispers.

“He was right,” I agree, watching her eyes fill with hurt. “He
was
. I won’t lie to you and tell you that I haven’t bedded a lot of women in this city, but not one of them has been to my home. I wouldn’t care if any of them were at the bar with their friends, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t be sitting across from any of them sharing a meal while they wore my clothes.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, ducking her head again and pulling at the hem of my shirt. I do have a reputation in this city, but I have never felt what I’m feeling right now with any of the women I have been with, and I refuse to let my past ruin my chances of getting what I want. And I want Fern more than I want my next breath.

Once she’s finished eating, I clean up the empty containers then lead her to the bedroom without giving her a choice.

“Get into bed. I have some stuff to take care of,” I tell her gently.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“Okay, then go brush you teeth then get into bed,” I say, giving her a kiss and a tap on the ass, sending her into the bathroom. Once the door is closed, I let out a frustrated growl. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t want to scare her off, but I also need to be inside her.

Running a frustrated hand through my hair, I head toward my office and sit down at my computer. I need her to trust me. I need her to get to know me, but how the hell do I do that? I’ve never dated any woman more than a few times. I know how to make a woman beg for me, but how the hell do you make someone fall in love with you?

Giving up on getting any work done, I head across the open space of the kitchen and living room and quietly open my door. The room is dark. Only the light from the hall casting a glow across the expanse of my bed shows me she’s under the covers. Pulling the door closed behind me, I kick off my shoes and take off my pants before getting into bed with her.

“Carter.” Her voice cuts through the darkness.

“I’m here.” I pull her into my body, tucking her head under my chin as I hold her until she falls back asleep. Looking out at the city, I know I will do whatever is necessary to have this for the rest of my life.

L
eaning back in my chair, I rub my eyes then pick up my desk phone when it rings.

“Carter,” I answer.

“Hey, son, how’s it going?” my dad asks as I sit back, taking a breath.
I haven’t seen Fern in three days, and my body is going through withdraws
, I think but don’t say, instead muttering, “Good, getting ready to call it a night. What’s up?”

“I just got a call that Mr. McCauley is in the hospital. Seems he suffered a heart attack this afternoon.”

“Shit.” I stand, starting to put my stuff in my briefcase. “What hospital?” I demand, knowing Fern is there, probably scared out of her mind.

“Presbyterian,” he says, but I don’t hear anything else, because I hang up then head out of the office.

“Den, forward all my calls to my cell,” I tell my assistant, who watches me with wide eyes as I move past her, out of the office, and toward the bank of elevators.

Getting into my car, I fight through traffic until I’m parking in one of the lots a few blocks from the hospital. I know Mr. McCauley won’t be expecting to see me, and will probably wonder why the fuck I’m there, but something in me is screaming at me to get to Fern as quickly as I can.

As soon as I arrive at the hospital, I use my charm on one of the nurses until she tells me what room he’s in then jog down the hall in that direction.

Outside the door to his room, I pause when I hear a woman’s voice say angrily, “This is all your fault. I told him the devil was in you, and he didn’t listen,” before hearing a loud bang and a whimper. Without thinking, I open the door to the room, where I find Fern with her back pressed to the wall, while an older woman holds her by the throat.

“Let her go now!” I roar, stepping into the room, noticing the bed is empty.

“Who are you?” the woman asks softly, stepping away from Fern but running her hand down her hair like she was comforting her.

“Come here, Fern,” I command, holding out my hand to her, noticing her face is red and blotchy and there are tears in her eyes.

“Who are you?” the woman repeats, narrowing her eyes on Fern as she steps away from her and comes to my side, burying her face in my chest as she sobs.

“Where is Mr. McCauley?” I ask, hearing Fern begin to sob harder.

“He’s dead,” the woman says with no remorse or concern.

“Jesus,” I hiss, tucking Fern closer to my body, wanting to shield her from this.

“Now give me my granddaughter. I’m taking her home,” she says, holding out her hand in my direction, which causes the woman in my arms to cling tighter to me.

“You’re not taking her home. I heard what you said to her when I came in, and I also saw your hands on her,” I growl, watching her face transform with rage.

“You’re not keeping my only grandchild from me!” she yells, pointing a finger at me.

“I’m not letting her go with you,” I state firmly, moving toward the door.

“I’m calling the police.”

“Please do, and while you’re at it, tell them she’s eighteen and with Carter Vault in his penthouse at one-oh-one Warren Street. I’ll be expecting their call,” I say, leading a still sobbing Fern out of the hospital. When we reach my car, I pull her into my lap behind the wheel, holding her until she calms down enough that she is able to take a full breath without sounding like she’s hyperventilating.

“Are you okay to sit in your seat while I drive, baby?” I ask her gently, pushing her hair away from her face.

When she nods, I place her beside me and get her buckled in before starting the car, taking her hand in mine, and holding it firmly against my thigh while I move in and out of traffic with precision.

Reaching my building, I pull into the underground parking space then pick Fern’s slight weight up and carry her into the elevator, whispering soothing words to her as I carry her through the apartment and lay her in bed.

“Do you want a shirt?” I ask, pulling off her shoes, noticing for the first time that she’s still in her school uniform.

“Yes.” She nods. Helping her out of the rest of her clothes, I tug her hands away from her breasts when she tries to cover them.

“Don’t hide from me,” I tell her firmly, slipping my shirt over her head. “Is your grandmother always like that?” I ask her, sitting next to her hip on the bed.

“Yes, but grand—” She swallows as more tears leak from her eyes. “He’s always stepped in.”

“Shhh, it’ll be okay.”

“She’s going to call the police and make me go home,” she whimpers, rolling to her side.

“Fern, you’re eighteen. She can’t make you go home unless you want to,” I tell her, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“I have nowhere to go,” she says through a gulp of air.

“You’re staying with me,” I tell her, watching her eyes grow wide. “And do not even think about arguing.”

“Carter—”

“No, now you rest,” I tell her, lying down behind her, wrapping myself around her.

Waking up a couple hours later to the concierge phone in the kitchen going off, I quietly get out of bed and head across the living room to pick it up. “Mr. Vault, there are two police officers here who wish to speak with you.”

“Send them up,” I say, opening the door to the apartment then moving back to the kitchen to dig through the items in the fridge, trying to find something I can make Fern for dinner.