Billionaires Dollar Series

“One you’ve decided to win?”

“That’s right.” He accepts the drink I hand him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you a bartender too?”

“No, but I’ve learned.”

He takes a sip, eyes not leaving mine. “Can you do it all, Maddie? Drinks, cook, bake…?”

“I’m not a good baker, actually. There’s too much precision work. You’d probably like it. It’s a bit like math.”

“Like math?”

“An equation, I mean. And if you get anything wrong, the solution comes out all incorrect.” I sit down on the bed, facing him. He’s draped his arm over the back of the leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other. “You’re distracting me now. I’m not getting the suave treatment.”

His smile widens into a slash of white. “What do you think I do beyond talking to a woman?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly, but I think it’s a lot more.”

“You seem to be very fascinated with my dating habits.” He nods to the glass in my hand. “You’re not going to taste your own drink?”

I take a sip and relish the burn. “You worried I’d drugged yours?”

“Terrified,” he deadpans. “Now, what are we going to do to get this notion out of your head?”

“What notion?”

“That you’re not interesting.” He says the word like it’s an insult. “Interesting, like an article in a newspaper is interesting, or a painting at a museum.”NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

“Oh. That.” I lean back on the bed. “This is very comfortable.”

“You should tell Cole the next time you see him.”

“Hah, never.”

“You might not have noticed,” Liam continues, “but I saw the way men looked at you tonight, and let me tell you, they all found you more than merely interesting.”

“It’s the dress.”

“Oh, it certainly helps. Feel free to lie like that, by the way.”

“What?” I look down only to realize that the slit is riding high, all of my left leg exposed. “God.”

“I figured it wasn’t on purpose,” Liam says. “A shame, that. I almost thought you were trying to seduce me.”

My throat feels dry, and I take another sip of my drink for good measure.

“I meant what I said too. I can’t see you in it without wanting to peel you out of it.”

“Holy shit.”

His grin is back, the intensity fading from his features. “Too much?”

“No. Not at all.” Except no drink in the world now helps against my dry mouth. “Liam, I’m not sure I know how to do this.”

I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. But he doesn’t mock me or tease. He leans forward with his arms on his legs. “There’s no manual.”

“Perhaps that’s what I need,” I say. “A manual for how to have uncomplicated, fun, interesting sex.”

“Sex is always interesting. What you want is great fucking sex.”

“Yes, God yes. That’s exactly what I want.” I stare up at the ceiling, because facing him is difficult. “And when we were riding the elevator up here, I was determined to have it with you.”

“So I figured,” he says, a laugh in his voice. “I’m not adverse to the idea myself, you see.”

“I didn’t feel nervous at all then, but I do now.”

“Mmm. It’s normal to feel nervous.”

“You don’t.”

“I don’t? I wouldn’t say that.” Liam rises from his seat, and a second later the bed dips as he sits down beside me. I watch as he props up a few pillows against the headboard and leans back. “Perhaps I just have the good kind of nerves.”

“Oh, so do I.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I do,” I insist, turning over on my stomach. His gaze is deep green on mine, the first boy I ever had a crush on.

The man I’ve rediscovered.

And the nerves don’t disappear, but they change, because he’s not a stranger at all. He’s Liam, my Liam, and the fact that we’re adults doesn’t change that.

It only enhances it.

His voice is hoarse. “You know I can’t handle it when you look at me like that.”

“Do you want me to stop looking at you?”

“Don’t you dare.”

I shift closer to him, rising up on my knees. His gaze drops to my neck and the exposed skin. Note to self, off-the-shoulder dresses mean you have to invest in a strapless bra, but they’re worth every penny.

“Your skin looks like silk.”

I wet my lips. “That’s a great line.”

“Thank you,” he says, shifting so he can slide an arm around my waist. “My arm belongs here.”

Oh, does it ever.