Playboy Prince

The scent of salt and roses fills my nose as I step out of the car. The lull of crashing waves—we're on a cliff—underlines the silence.

We're secluded.

The most secluded I've been since I moved to New York.

Liam wraps his hands around my waist, pulls my body into his, presses his lips to my neck. "You smell good."

"You didn't notice in the limo?"

"I noticed." He nips at my ear. "I notice now."

And, now, he's face-to-face with this symbol of his childhood, his father's death, his late brother, and he's desperate to escape.

Not that I mind. I want to race to Liam's bedroom and fuck him senseless. But I want to be here for him too. For this. Whatever this is.

He slides a hand around my thigh. Runs his thumb over the fabric of my jeans. "Aren't you hot in these?"

"No. Are you?"

"Yeah." He rocks his hips, grinding his cock against my ass.

Fuck. That feels good. I need to be here. I need to fuck him senseless.

"You look good." He nips at my ear again. "But I need these on my floor."

The driver shoots us an irritated look. He shakes his head damn rich people and drops our luggage by the front door.

I've been that guy. I've been the assistant, the one people ignore and talk around. I'm not going to make his life harder by making out in front of him.

I take Liam's hand. "Shall we?"

"Fuck in my room? Or on the dining table?"

"Don't you have a housekeeper?"

"She won't watch."

"Isn't Adam home?"

"He won't watch. But Danielle…"

"Obviously."

"Is that a yes?" He's teasing, but it's lacking his usual zest.

Do I really know him that well now? That's terrifying. "Later."

"Later." He squeezes my hand as he leads me along the walkway, up the steps, to the massive oak door.

He pulls a key from his pocket and presses it between his palms, soaking in the weight of the gesture, then he opens the door and motions after you.

The place is even grander inside. A foyer leads to a living room. The staircase on our left curls along the walls, disappears into a hallway in one direction, turns into mezzanine in the other.

There's a ballroom, an actual ballroom, past the living room. With high ceilings and massive windows.

It's straight out of Beauty and the Beast.

I want to step into a gown and take to the dance floor.

Immediately.

"Do you have a library?" I ask.

"Of course."

"Can we go?"

An older woman in a simple black dress interrupts us. "You must be Ms. West." She smiles and meets me in the middle of the room. "I'm Trish."

I offer my hand.

She pulls me into a hug instead of shaking. "Mr. Pierce has told me so much about you."

"Liam?"

"Yes." She looks me over with affection, the way Preston did, like she's so happy her son has finally found love. "He's enamored."

"It's true." Liam greets her with a hug. "Keep playing my wingwoman?"

"I'll consider that," she says.

He whispers something in her ear.

She laughs. "Of course."

"You look good. I knew there was something going on," he says.

"I look good for myself," she says.

"Really? You do all that if you're alone?" he asks.

"I do," she says.

"Come on. If you're home, alone, it's pajama time, hair down, makeup off," he says.

"You buy silk pajamas for all your friends," she says.

"That's Simon's thing," he says.

"Have you tried them yourself?" she asks.

"I have a pair," he says.

"And…" She raises a brow. "You don't need company for sensual experiences."

"Are you telling me to fuck myself?" he asks.

She shrugs am I?

"He does take it as a suggestion," I say.

"Was that a request?" He turns to me and he lights up. Like he's home. Like he's safe from the danger of his actual home. "The living room isn't the most sensual environment, but I aim to please."

"Not the living room," I say.

"The library?" he asks.

My cheeks flush.

He smiles, victorious. "Right now?"

"Aren't Adam and Danielle here?" I ask.

"Mr. Pierce and Ms. Bellamy live here," Trish interrupts.

Right. She's here.

I'm flirting in front of her. Liam grew up with Trish, sure. She's used to his nonsense. She probably realizes he's playing up his nonsense because she's here.

But still—

I'm not going to subject her to PDAs.

Trish must notice my horror because she smiles and places her hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, Ms. West. I know Liam acts out around authority figures."

"Authority figures?" he challenges. "Fuck. Proving her point already."

"A new record." She laughs, softly. "Wait until Simon is here. Then…" She shakes her head he's ridiculous.

"That, I've seen," I say.

"Wait until you see it here," she says.

"You know I'm right here?" Liam folds his arms, feigning offense. "If you're going to talk about me like I'm in the other room, make it dirtier."

"Liam, you're like a son to me," she says.

"Then say one of those weird mom things. Compliment Briar's body inappropriately," he says.

She chuckles. "What would I say?"