Playboy Prince

"Iced."

"Should I fetch you an iced latte?"

His eye corners turn down. "Bet you won't miss that."

Is he sad I'm not going to be his assistant? Or is it something else? "I won't miss working under the most difficult man in the world, no."

"Working side by side is better?"

"I'm waiting for the sex joke."

"I'm game for anything, Bri. You know that."

"I do."

"But side by side… not as good. Unless you're talking sixty-nine. And even then…" The lightness returns to his voice. "We can try tonight." He motions to the stairs. The footsteps on the second floor. He's telling me Preston is here. Listening. "But I'd rather you sit on my face."

"If it will shut you up."

"Is there a better way?" His smile widens. Brightens his eyes.

It's real. Authentic. The teasing Liam I know well.

"Is that you, Liam?" Preston calls.

Liam's smile disappears. "Just some guy who's going to fuck his fiancée on your couch."

"How am I supposed to sit on your face on the couch?"

"Do you need a live demo?"

"I'm starving," I say loudly.

"See, I was thinking I want to eat too—"

"You did not just say that."

"I did."

"It's not sexy."

"I didn't tell you to get on the dining table because that's where I eat all my meals."

"Did you hear that in a bad porno?"

"Opal read it in some book."

"Why are you talking to your teenage sister about bad dirty talk?"

"Someone needs to teach her about finding the right men."

"And you're that someone?"

"Who knows men's bullshit better?" he asks.

That's not a bad point. But this is Liam. He's probably full of shit. "You didn't really—"

"I did."

"Promise you'll never say it again."

"I'm not sure I can do that."

"Women aren't meals."

"Women? I'm not thinking about women—"

"My—" Oh my god, I can't say this with Preston in earshot. "This"—I draw a circle around my pelvis—"is not a meal."

"I didn't suggest it was."

"But you—"

"Said I want to eat you out, yeah. Last time I checked, you didn't have a problem with that language."

"Is he this ridiculous when he thinks no one is listening?" Preston calls.

My cheeks flame. He can hear us. That's why Liam is doing it.

He's such a nice, respectable man. And he's listening to Liam discuss dirty talk.

It's not dirty talk we're actually using.

But it's still—

Ugh.

I'm going to die of embarrassment. I really am.

"But if you'd prefer, 'I want to taste your cunt.' Or 'I need you to come on my face—"

"Liam!"

He smiles. It's pure joy. Pure evil I love making you blush joy.

"Let's go upstairs."

"I've been waiting for you to say that."

"To breakfast."

"Do I have to say the thing about the table?" he asks.

"Do you want a chance at doing that?"

"Baby, are you really asking me that question?"

"Then don't say it." I offer my hand.

He shakes.

"If you offer to eat me out in front of another family member, friend, or coworker, I'm leaving."

"You're a coworker."

"Another coworker."

"I'll be good." He holds up four fingers. "Scout's honor."

"Uh-huh."

He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs.

Preston is standing in front of an oval dining table. He's dressed exactly as Liam is. A three-piece suit, only his is navy, and his tie is burnt orange.

The orange isn't his color. It makes him look a little sickly. But I'm not here to give the guy fashion tips. Besides, he looks stylish in that understated rich guy way.

"I feel a little outclassed," I admit.

"If your dress is upsetting you and you need to take it off, I… well, I don't want you to be upset." Liam shoots me a got ya look.

Preston laughs ah, silly Liam. "You look beautiful, Briar. You put both of us to shame."

That's not true. They both look fantastic. Sure, Preston isn't brimming with youthful vigor the way Liam is. And his designer suit is a little big for him.

But he's in a designer suit.

I'm in a sundress and sandals.

And this is from my new closet. My bought by Liam closet.

Not that I'm complaining about the free clothes. I'm earning the fuck out of them. And I, uh…

"Thank you." That's the appropriate reply to a compliment.

Liam pulls out my chair.

I smooth my dress as I take a seat.

"You do," Liam says. "Beautiful. Classy. And hot as fuck."

"Oh my god." My cheeks flame.

Preston chuckles. "Don't worry. I know Liam and his need for attention."

"He's incorrigible," I say.

"I love when you use big words," Liam says. "Makes me hard."

Preston motions see. "What would you like to drink, Briar? Champagne? Coffee? A Bloody Mary, maybe."

"Tea. Earl Grey if you have it," I say.

"I'll check." He steps into the attached kitchen. Semi-attached, I guess. There's a wall separating the two rooms. It ends just past the table. Leaves a wide open space. A line separating the hardwood and the tile.

"Whatever is fine," I say.

"Don't believe the lies. She's picky," Liam calls.

"How picky can I be if I'm with you?" I ask.