Page 51 of The Tower

“Argue, and I’ll dump you in a taxi and send you to Reed Tower.”

I don’t want to believe him, but I’m looking at the cold, hard countenance of a man who doesn’t make idle threats.

“I’ll stay,” I finally say. “But I’m not going to sleep.”

He tilts his head. “As you wish.” His eyes skim over me one last time. Then he turns and walks out of the bedroom, leaving me under the covers, confused, unsatisfied, and very, very annoyed.

Fifteen

Beautiful Betrayal

As soon as the door clicks behind him, I fist my hands in the sheets, clamp my lips tightly together, and silently scream.

It doesn’t help.

Right now, the only thing that will help is Liam Grimm standing right in front of me with my hands around his throat choking his worthless a-hole life out of him.

I mean, seriously. What. The. Fuck?

First, he torments me with such wicked brutality I’m almost begging him to fuck me. Which is, frankly, mortifying. Then he takes me all the way to the edge and leaves me there, just hanging like some pathetic, horny teenager.

Now I hate myself not just for wanting him, but for letting him see that I want him.

No, wanted. Past tense. Because I am so done with this. Protect me, fine. But if he’s going to demand a price, then it’s going to be cold, hard cash next time.

Bastard.

I do a few more laps around my racecourse of vitriol until my fury subsides and my heart rate slows.

What doesn’t go away? That itch. That need.

And bastard boy isn’t here to help with any of that.

Fuck.

With a sigh, I pull the covers higher as I slide my hand lower, trailing my fingertips over my breasts, my belly, then lower and lower until I find my own slick, wet core. I sigh, my body trembling as if in anticipation, and I close my eyes, losing myself in a collage of Liam Grimm. Those blue eyes dark with lust. Those strong hands stroking my skin. That wide, full mouth closing over my breast, then kissing its way down, down, down until …

I tease my clit, craving that explosion, and yet at the same time wanting more.

Wanting him—but he’s not here.

I want to hate myself for craving this man. A man I know is only using me as a weapon against my father. But I can’t. I knew the score when I agreed. And now here I am, alone and frustrated with my hands between my legs, cursing this edgy, needy feeling. Wanting the explosion to be earned.

Wanting Grimm, dammit.

But then I remember …

I hurry naked into the connected living area, then straight to the desk. I cross my fingers, then open the drawers, gratified when I see that my hunch was right—nestled in the drawer is a laptop with the hotel’s logo.

That’s the benefit of high-end hotels. The management simply charges the black card of any guest who helps themself to electronics or art or furniture.

It’s fully charged and connected to WiFi, and I take it back to the bed, prop myself up against a mountain of pillows, then navigate to the Elysium portal and log in.

Once again, I’m frustrated that I don’t have access to all the equipment back in my suite at home. Especially since I’m practically twitching with pent-up sexual frustration.

I’m not supposed to have any of that equipment. Father would lock me in a room full of windows if he knew, but Ruby finagled two sets from an R&D guy she’d dated for a minute. Fortunately, he’s a decent guy and didn’t ask for the equipment back after she cut him loose.

As if my thoughts have magically summoned her, the moment I log in, I see her avatar standing just outside the staging area.