Page 50 of The Tower

That, however, isn’t something Grimm needs to know.

“How long have you wanted me?” The question is almost a growl.

Again, the lie comes easily— “I don’t want you.”

“No?” His hand leaves my breast and I hear the distinctive sound of his zipper, then feel his cock against my bare ass. He returns the hand and continues to lightly tease my nipple, the fingers of his other hand thrusting in and out of my pussy as his cock presses hard against my rear.

I’m on sensual overload, and it’s all I can do not to beg him to add another finger, to use his hand to fuck me even harder, to take me however he wants—whatever it takes to satisfy this wonderful, horrible, terrible need that I’ve only ever quelled myself. Even in Elysium, it’s only me, no matter what fantasy I’ve spun or what tingling sensation the full Elysium experience might provide.

But this isn’t my imagination. It’s not even Elysium.

This is real, and I want it. All of it.

Mostly, I want a touch other than my own.

No, I want this touch. His touch.

I want Liam Grimm. But damned if I’m going to admit that to him.

“I can take you over,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. “All you have to do is ask. All you have to say is that you want me.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.” He steps back, his cock no longer teasing my ass. His fingers no longer inside me. His hand no longer on my breast.

I have to bite my tongue not to whimper.

“Turn around, Princess.”

I do, my chin lifted as if I really am a princess.

Amusement dances in his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Trust me when I tell you that our time together will go much better if we dispense with the lies.”

I lift a brow, but I say nothing.

“Say that you want me.”

“I don’t.”

His brow rises. “Perhaps I was unclear about not lying,” he says, his voice as icy as his gaze. “Do you think I didn’t notice the way you trembled in the elevator? The way you drew in a breath when I pressed my hand to your lower back? Do you think I don’t know that whenever you lose yourself in fantasies, it’s my face you see? Or that you touched yourself last night? That when you thrust those manicured fingers inside your sweet little cunt, it was me you were thinking of?”

“No.” It’s another lie, of course, and it’s hard to put any conviction behind the word when I’m still mourning the loss of his fingers inside me.

My pulse quickens as he studies my face. Then he steps closer, his fingers sliding through my hair to tug my head back as he captures me in a long, slow kiss, so deep I sag in his arms, my legs no longer capable of holding me up.

I’m trembling with need when he breaks the kiss, his face going hard. “Get on the bed.”

I hurry to comply, hating myself for letting him see just how much I want this.

“Under the covers,” he says. “Now.”

Once again, I do as he says. His eyes skim over me, and his mouth curves into a smile. “Sleep, Princess. And don’t leave this room. There are cameras in the hall and the elevator, and I assure you that the desk clerk will have plenty of incentive to call me if you so much as open that door.”

I bolt upright, the sheet pressed to my chest to cover my bare breasts. “You’re leaving?”

“You’re safe,” he says. “Stay. Sleep. I won’t be long.”

“But—”