Billionaires Dollar Series

I search through the blankets, but no Liam. The fabric is still warm to the touch.

I slide out of bed and reach for my robe, wrapping it tightly around my waist. Has he left?

Why would he?

He’d come over after his niece’s birthday party, asking me if I’d be willing to feed a starving man-and he’d been starving in more ways than one.

I find him on my couch, his shape silhouetted against the light from a laptop screen. He’s only wearing boxers, and the thick hair is still mussed from my hands.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He glances over at me. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” I climb onto the couch, sliding in behind him and the cushions. His skin is warm against me. “Are you working?”

“Not really,” he says. His left hand grabs my ankle, pulling it tightly around him. “Just wanted to monitor the markets.”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Do you do that often?” My fingers trail a path down his back, across the skin-covered muscles. “At night, I mean.”

He doesn’t reply right away. “Most nights, yeah.”

I trace his shoulder blades and he shivers under the touch. My head feels heavy with sleep and pleasure, satisfaction still thick in my body from the hours before.

It feels like ages since I had a man’s strong body all to myself, where the air between us is heavy with ease and my hands free to roam.

He groans when I stroke up his sides. “That tickles.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t stop, Christ. Just make your touch firmer.”

Grinning, I return to my task, tracing the lines of his stomach and feeling it tighten under my touch. The only sound is that of our breathing and the occasional touch on his keyboard.

“And how are the markets looking?”

“Stable,” he says. “The American markets are closed, but the British and Japanese are both open.”

I smooth my hands down his arms, perching my head on his shoulder. His screen looks like something out of a movie-all tiny numbers and arrows, rows and rows of numerical values.

“That would give me a headache,” I murmur. “Staring at that screen for more than a minute.”

There’s a smile in his voice. “You never did like math in school.”

I pretend to shiver. “Don’t remind me.”

His hand covers mine, long fingers curling. “We can go back to bed in a minute.”

“Okay.” I rest my head against his back and feel the steady, calm beat of his heart. “I wonder why you work so much.”

His snort reverberates through me. “You’re not the first person to ask me that today.”

“Ethan?”

“Christ, no. My mom.”

I think of the picture he’d showed me, of Ethan sitting next to a small, four-year-old birthday girl with a wide grin and a pinball machine in front of her. A tiny miniature version of Ethan and Liam, with the same green eyes.

“I don’t work nearly as hard as you do,” he says. “You’re the one risking a knife through your hand every day.”

“Am I going to regret telling you that story?”

“Not if you promise to be careful.”

“I’m not nineteen and untrained any longer,” I inform him. “And I’d rather take a minor cut than lose millions of dollars in a day.”

He wraps my other ankle around him as well, my body now tied around him like a backpack. My nipples harden against his back from the friction.

I close my eyes. The warmth of him is a respite from days of worrying about the culinary fellowship final, the dishes, the recipes.

Here in the darkness, it’s just the two of us.

“Come on,” he says finally. “Hold on.”

I tighten my limbs just in time as he stands, pulling me up along with him. My ankles lock around his waist.

“Woah.”

He snorts, heading into my bedroom. “It’s been a long time since I gave you a piggyback ride.”

“Did you ever?”

“I must’ve, at some point.”

“Maybe.” He sits down and I slide off him on the bed. “We stopped hanging out after junior high.”

Liam shakes his head. “That was my fault.”

“Was it?”

His hands smooth over my robe, undoing the tie with quick hands. He tosses it aside. The way he touches my skin confirms what he’s already told me. Your body is incredible, Maddie. I always want you wrapped around me.

“Yes. I was an idiot.” He tugs me close, our bodies touching. “I was obsessed with video games and fitting in at school. Not to mention I’d gotten it into my head that you had a thing for Ethan.”

“What?” I rise up on my elbow. “All because of that kiss?”

He pushes a hand through the thickness of his hair. “Yeah. Like I said, I was an idiot.”

“You were,” I agree. “But in all fairness, I don’t think junior high is easy on guy-girl friendships.”