Addiction (Bayfront Billionaires)

Nathaniel Dalton stood alongside her. And good Lord—he was hotter than hell!

Or was she hallucinating? Conjuring a vision of him through her remembrance of their blistering time together?

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said in his intimate timbre. The one that always set her pulse racing, but which did so much more than that now, because it held the scintillating vibe of arousal as he stared down at her in her tiny yellow bikini.

Nope, no hallucination here.

Liv’s inner thighs flamed. Her heart slammed against her ribs. And more memories of that naughty and naked night in Paris flashed through her mind.

Nathaniel’s bold, grass-green gaze slid over her like a feathery touch as stimulating as the breeze off the ocean. As stirring as the spark against her clit and the searing in her veins.

Liv realized she still hadn’t spoken, but she couldn’t come up with a single sensible thing to say. Not in the presence of this new and improved version of her onetime lover.

Nathaniel and his stepbrother Tristan had been on the gangly side growing up, but had started lifting weights their senior year of high school and had really come into their own by the time they’d met up with her in France, after graduating MIT with honors. Clearly, Nathaniel hadn’t abandoned his gym membership—had stepped up his workouts, even—because he was more solidly built than ever . . . downright mouthwatering.

Rendering Liv speechless. Something that never happened to the outspoken performer.

Thank God for Fallon. Liv’s friend stood and rounded her chair.

“Nice to see you, Nathaniel,” she told him.

“Jesus, Fallon.” He took her in from head to toe. Efficiently—not in the absorbing way he had with Liv. He gave Fallon a quick hug and then held her at arm’s length. “I wouldn’t have known it was you if you weren’t with Liv. Damn . . . you look amazing.”

“So do you,” she said, a tinge of pink sweeping over her high cheekbones. “I figured it was time I cranked things up a notch.”

“And some smart fella put a ring on your finger. That’s one hell of a rock you’re wearing.”

“Two smart fellas, actually. Dev and Morgan. Commitment ring.” She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers to show off the four carat heart-shaped diamond they’d given her several months ago, on Valentine’s Day.

“Whoa.” Nathaniel’s brows jumped. “Dev and Morgan?” His glimmering eyes flitted briefly to Liv. One corner of his tempting mouth lifted mischievously, knowingly, inciting more sparks between her legs. To Fallon, Nathaniel said, “Well, congratulations are certainly in order.”

Liv watched as he gave her best friend another hug. He was tall and strapping. His shoulders, back muscles, and biceps strained against the gray button-down shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck in. His massive traps rose above the collar and the hard swells of his pecs filled the opening of the shirt that he’d paired with inky jeans and boots.

Nathaniel’s usual neatly trimmed and well-behaved dark brown hair was now sexily mussed, sticking up on end in the front. And he sported a deep tan that suggested he’d spent quite a bit of time on the coast, but why was this the first she was seeing of him in Bayfront since he’d left California for MIT a decade ago?

She mentally shook her head. Didn’t matter. He was in town and she couldn’t be more thrilled by his long-overdue visit. An impish trill along her spine had her shooting to her feet, then leaping onto her lounge chair. Spreading her arms wide, she finally found her voice and declared, “The prodigal son returns!”

Nathaniel chuckled, an evocative rumble that warmed her to the core. “I’m hardly a prodigal anything—all very respectable and gainfully employed, I assure you. But thanks for the public service announcement.” His grin deepened, showing off gleaming white teeth that were perfectly straight after years of braces and retainers. “I see the world is still your oyster—and your personal stage.”

“I don’t think the world would have it any other way.” At that proclamation, there was a round of applause on the sundeck for her theatrics—to which the good citizens of Bayfront were accustomed.

Liv took a mock bow, always willing to ham it up for this audience. She had plenty of friends stretched out on loungers or sitting around the pristine, infinity-edged pool, soaking up the rays and sipping exotic cocktails. They were, by far, her favorite and most dedicated fans.

Well . . . perhaps they took a slight back seat to the devilishly handsome man standing before her. Liv leaned toward him and planted her hands on his impossibly broad shoulders, marveling over all the rigid muscles beneath her fingers, which burned to strip away the material and explore every tantalizing inch of him.

Her inner thighs continued to quiver and sizzle.

“So studly,” she playfully said of his strikingly masculine appearance. “What brings you in from London? I was beginning to fear you’d permanently defected. And what a damn shame that would be!”

“Never,” he swore with a titillating wink.

His large, smooth hands clasped her about the waist to hold her steady as she swayed on the thick cushion—mostly due to his n

earness and his roguish expression, both of which were sending tremors down her bare legs.

His skin was hot on hers, and Liv couldn’t help but conjure more explicit visuals of how those hands of his had pleasured her, palming her breasts, massaging firmly if not a bit roughly to drive her wild. And when one had slipped inside the scant triangle of her thong in her hotel room overlooking the Champs-Élysées, rubbing her slick folds, then targeting her clit until she’d shattered under his skilled touch . . . Well. She’d had one powerful climax after another that night!

Now she choked down a moan. Banished some of her more lascivious thoughts. No need to get all worked up here at the yacht club. As it was, her skimpy bikini bottoms were already damp, thanks to hunky Nathaniel, his smoldering gaze, his hands on her body . . . and her errant ruminations.