Page 79 of The Tower

All I know is that Grimm is the one I want. Right now, he’s the only one.

Twenty-Four

Payment

Liam pulled off the headset, feeling slightly smug as he looked at the screen where Prince Killiam still stood, abandoned mid-seduction.

Vale had turned away from him—the prince and the fantasy.

Sasha had turned away.

It wasn’t what she’d said to the prince that had Liam’s cock tightening—she hadn’t said much at all. Just that she needed to go. It was how she’d acted—the hesitation when Killiam had reached for her, the way she’d pulled back from his touch. The longing in her eyes just before she’d logged out, a yearning for something the prince couldn’t give her.

He knew what she wanted—to be fucked properly by a man whose hard edges she could feel. Who could pound inside her. Who could take her to all those dark places and make her scream.

She didn’t want Killiam—a sanitized fantasy that wore Liam’s face—she wanted the real deal. Him. Liam Grimm.

And, oh hell yes, he was more than happy to oblige.

He slammed down the lid on his laptop with a decisive click, tossed it to the foot of the bed, then headed toward the yellow room, wearing nothing but the sweats he’d changed into after seeing Dr. Chen out.

He imagined her standing at the foot of Maya’s bed, pacing as she tried to work up the courage to come to the master bedroom and claim what she craved.

Or maybe he’d find her naked on the comforter, her legs spread, and her eyes closed as she tried to bury that desire—that burning, physical need for him that she didn’t want to admit, even to herself.

Impossibly, the image made him even harder, and he moved down the hall to her room like a predator to wounded prey, knowing that victory was assured.

He didn’t even pause when he reached her door, just turned the handle and let himself in without knocking. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, the Elysium equipment discarded beside her, her hair falling around her face like a curtain of gold.

She looked up at his entrance, surprise flickering across her features before something else replaced it—something heated and complicated.

“I told you I wanted to be alone,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. She’d changed into a white terry-cloth robe, and now she cinched it tighter at her waist.

“That’s what you said.” He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “It’s not what you want.”

Her eyes tracked his movement as he approached, her body tensing slightly. “The hell it’s not,” she said, but there was no conviction in her voice.

He stopped a few feet away from her. “Look at me.”

She obeyed, tilting her face up to his, her pale skin now flushed pink, her lips slightly parted. And though it was probably only his imagination, he was certain he could smell her desire.

His cock strained against his sweats, and he clocked the moment her eyes dipped to that telltale bulge.

“What are you doing?” she asked, even though she could surely see the answer for herself.

“We had an agreement,” he said. “I’m taking payment.”

“Oh.” She sat perfectly still. Didn’t try to scoot away. Didn’t beg him to leave her alone after her stressful day. Instead, all she said was, “How?”

He wanted to laugh, loving the way she always surprised him. “By giving you exactly what you want.”

Her cheeks bloomed even pinker, the flush extending down to the hint of cleavage revealed by the robe.

Her eyes dipped to his crotch. “And what is it I want?”

“What I should have done hours ago.” He moved closer, until his toes brushed the dust ruffle on the bed, and he was standing between her thighs.

He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “Oh. What should–?”