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Shit.
Ironically, Liv had to shove that all aside so she could focus on the here and now. She and Tristan joined Nate with the governor and Liv mustered as much enthusiasm over this twist of fate as she could. This was clearly a new lesson for her to learn. When it came to these two men, she got snapshots in time. Not scenarios to withstand any sort of longevity.
They had friendly conversations with numerous prominent figures, and Liv concentrated on the topics at hand, related to telecommunications and more advanced wifi and other technical solutions that were rolling out from Nate and Tristan’s company—as well as Dagney Presley’s, a man Liv had always admired. He and his wife Tova had been surrogate parents to Liv in so many ways. With her own mother always performing on renowned stages the world over, Liv had basically been raised by nannies and house staff. But because she was good friends with Fallon, Tova had taken it upon herself to ensure Liv felt she was part of a family.
Perhaps it was that woman who had inspired Liv to build her own family—her vast circle of friends—looking beyond the stereotypes her mother perpetuated and the elitist mentality she embraced.
The billionaires’ cove of Bayfront did not come without its fair share of fiscal and social challenges, its smackdowns and scandals. The community wasn’t a streamlined utopia, given the inherent affluence. Yet it was by and large populated with people who enjoyed the finer things in life as much as they did the simple aspects. Expensive champagne was fine and dandy, but did it really compare to a vibrant California sunset that spilled fiery vermillion and gold across the sparkling turquoise water, and backlit the hills with a mesmerizing glow? Most residents wouldn’t deign to check what label was stamped on the cork just popped—taking for granted it was a private reserve variety that ranked at the top of the most prestigious lists—but they could detail every nuance of the gorgeous scenery sprawled before them.
Even now, as the stars overhead winked seductively and the lapping of waves against the hull and the peninsula created a sexy lulling sound, the majority of Nate’s and Tristan’s guests had flowed out to the Ariana’s decks, rather than staying inside. It was just too beautiful a night, as always, to miss out on.
Liv got a rush off of the atmosphere, the animated discussions, the two men flanking her. And though she toyed with the idea of what might come later, she was grounded in the present, feeling a sense of pride over being the successful entrepreneurs’ date, but also reveling in her admiration for them.
It was well after one in the morning when the party broke up. Liv was still buzzing from the way Nate and Tristan had commanded such respect, and spoken so authoritatively about their business, that she was insanely aroused before they’d even reached the point where they were finally alone.
She’d long since stopped drinking and was completely in control of all faculties when she told them, “Now would be a good time to give me the grand tour.” They didn’t miss the suggestion in her voice as to where that tour should end . . .
Nate took her hand, guiding her along the lower deck, where he and Tristan had seen off their guests by ferry back to the marina. He explained that this portion of the yacht housed the forty or so crew members who staffed the ship. On the remaining four decks, there were formal and informal living and dining rooms, a full-service spa and salon, a gym, a helipad, offices, a library, a state-of-the-art theater, ten staterooms, one wading pool, three outdoor Jacuzzi tubs . . .
All completely mind-boggling. As was Nate’s master suite. He swiped his fingerprint over a small scanner on the wall and the door slid open. They stepped inside the private room on the fourth deck, tall windows surrounding them. Liv knew they were tinted black on the outside, and probably bulletproof. Bayfront was all aglow and sprawled before them. A different perspective from her coveted oceanside condo, but the view was just as sensational.
As they entered the room, Tristan took the lead. Replacing Nate’s hand in hers, he stared intently at Liv as he walked backward, pulling her slowly through the vast stateroom. There were no other lights on, just a dimly lit chandelier and the flickering flames at the base of the waterfall outside the bathroom or dressing room or whatever suite lay behind the decorative sliding doors. The water between the glass panes captured the blood-red orange and vibrant purple from the fire. Shadows danced across the opposite wall of windows. The harbor twinkled with gas lamps and dazzling stars.
Nate reached for the remote on the nightstand and a moment later, jazz music at a low decibel level flowed from hidden speakers. He pressed another button and the slightly rounded floor-to-ceiling glass doors that led to the deck slid smoothly open. A warm summer breeze wafted inside.
Tristan gathered her close. “What do you say?” he asked in his sensuous voice. “Interested in a few orgasms?”
Liv chose not to obsess over all the loose ends of her life. Not when she was once again in this advantageous position with Tristan and Nate . . . and it felt so right.
She softly quipped, “Just a few?”
Detangling her fingers from Tristan’s, she slipped out of her sandals and set them on the bench that ran the width of the bed at the foot of it, while both men removed their jackets. Then Liv worked Tristan’s bowtie, unbuttoned his shirt, tugged the hem from his pants, and slid the material down his biceps. She draped the shirt on the bench with the mounting pile of clothes before repeating the process with Nate.
They were magnificent. Her heart beat faster and her knees weakened.
She said, “I always try not to be too decadent for my own good, but you are both an overindulgence I can’t resist.”
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Her hands smoothed over Tristan’s chest and she dropped kisses along his pecs.
“Damn, you make me hot,” he murmured.
He ran his fingers through her long, sleek hair down to her shoulders. Nate moved behind her and worked the zipper on her dress, quickly helping her out of the garment.
Then he knelt and twined his fingers in the thin strands of her thong and dragged it to her ankles. While he was doing this, Tristan unhooked her strapless bra and took her in from head to toe—in one long, measured gaze that caused Liv’s stomach to flutter. He let out another low groan and her nipples tightened.
“How can you possibly be more extraordinary than the last time I saw you naked?” Tristan asked.
She smiled at him, too breathless to speak.
Nate’s fingertips skimmed over her skin as he stood, until she was tingling and quivering. He placed his hands above her hips, kissed her shoulder, then lightly nipped his way up her neck.
He stopped just below her ear and whispered, “Do you remember what Tristan likes to do to you?”
A hungry whimper escaped her as Tristan’s blue eyes burned with lust and longing and Nate’s hands snaked around her front to palm her breasts and massage firmly.
Her thighs pressed together. She was already wet. And they’d barely started with her.
