Playboy Prince

Opal laughs. "Honest. The best promises are." She hugs me and Danielle again. Releases us to pull Simon from his conversation with his brothers.

They look civil, but Liam knows how to make hostility look civil.

His eyes lock on mine. He raises a brow should we?

I nod we should, excuse myself, meet him in the upstairs hallway.

He leads me to the room at the end. I expect to see his bedroom, all the signs of teenage Liam, but I see shelves of books, a massive window, a view of the ocean.

The library.

"Do you need a minute with the books?" Liam presses the door closed. "Or you ready to come on my hand now?"

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Liam

Briar looks around the room with wide eyes. She takes in the endless view of the ocean, the blue sky, the afternoon light falling over the oak furniture.

Then the bookshelves.

She's in heaven, surrounded by three walls of bookshelves.

"Did I cock block myself"—I wrap my arm around her waist—"picking this room?"

"No." She brings her eyes to mine. "It's perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her cheeks flush. "I always wanted to have sex in a library."

Thank fuck. I need to be inside her and out of my head. "Against a shelf?"

"Won't the books fall?"

"Can you think of a better way to die?"

"No. But I have an app to launch." She wraps her hand around my waist. "Between the stacks." She looks to the one bookshelf jutting from the wall.

It's not a library stack, but it's something.

"In high school, I dated this guy who loved manga. We'd hang out in the graphic novels section."

"You read manga?"

"We didn't get to the actual reading."

I press my palm into the small of her back. Lead her to the space between the bookshelf and the wide-open window.

She looks out at the backyard. The aqua pool, the rose garden, the massive lawn stacked with tables.

Already set up for the party.

So much like the house I grew up in. Like this is another one of Dad's parties. To celebrate the start of the season, or woo an investor, or impress a client.

Massive house, outdoor dining room, well-behaved children.

Simon, nearly old enough to step into his role. Adam following in his footsteps.

Then me and Bash, already troublemakers, in that boys will be boys way.

Between boarding school and weeks with Preston, I didn't spend as much time here. But there was enough. More than enough.

When Bash was here, the place was alive.

Now, it's not.

"We'd make out." She turns to face me. Slides her arms around my neck. "Sometimes, he'd feel me up."

"In the bookstore, in front of everyone?"

"Are you jealous?"

"A little."

"I never see you jealous."

"I never cared enough to be jealous." I pin her to the wall, slip my hand under her shirt, cup her breast over her bra. "Like this?"

She nods.

"Just this?"

"No."

I rock my hips against hers, slip my thumb into her bra. Her shirt is tight. I don't have a lot of room to move, but I still manage to run my thumb over her again and again.

"Liam." Her hips rock against mine. "Fuck."

I tease her again and again.

Her eyelids flutter closed.

"You like the tease?"

She barely manages to nod.

"Like this, in your clothes, 'cause I want you too badly to wait until they're off."

"Yes," she breathes.

"Me too." I press my lips to hers.

She melts into me, legs putty, lips parting, tongue dancing with mine.

She is mine.

It feels so fucking good, knowing how to play her, to push her to the edge, to take my fucking time with her bliss.

I've never claimed a love of control before. I've never been into issuing orders or tying women to my headboard.

But the way Briar melts into me feels so fucking good. The pleasure, the trust, the need.

Every fucking bit.

This strong, sarcastic, tough as nails woman putty in my hands.

Mine.

The rest of the world is a mess. This makes sense. This is music.

I don't know shit about music.

But I know Briar. I know what makes her laugh, what makes her ache, what makes her groan.

I kiss her hard as I tease her.

Her hips buck against mine. Her hands find my hair.

She kisses back, hard, claiming all of me, claiming something deep inside me, something only I can give her.

I tease her until she's panting, then I slip my other hand under her blouse.

The thing is skin tight. There's no room. I roll it up her stomach, over her bra, all the way to her collarbones.

She looks up at me, her grey eyes wracked with need, her expression hazy with pleasure. "Liam."

I push the cups of her bra aside. Replace them with my palms.

She groans as I draw circles around her nipples. Again and again. Until she's tugging at my hair.

Then more for good measure.

She rocks her hips against mine. She's wearing jeans, the same as I am. It's too much friction. And not enough.

I need her skin against mine.