Page 19 of Liam (The Valeur Billionaires #4)

Chapter Eleven

LIAM

T he elevator doors part with a cheerful ding that mocks my exhaustion. I stumble out, my shoes squeaking on the polished floor—because nothing says powerful CEO like sounding like a rubber duck with every step.

“Home, sir?” Marcus asks, his voice carrying the slightest hint of amusement. I swear he enjoys watching me unravel at the end of each day.

I nod, collapsing into the backseat of the car like a marionette with cut strings. As we pull away, I glance at the building, and a flash of light catches my eye. I turn, spotting a lone illuminated window on the third floor. Aleria’s lab.

My heart does a little tap dance against my ribs. I’d dumped a mountain of work on her today, all because I couldn’t handle the thought of her winning this bet.

Real mature, Valeur.

“Marcus,” I croak, my voice sounding like I’ve gargled gravel. “Pull over.”

He raises an eyebrow in the rearview mirror but complies without comment. Silent judgment is his specialty.

I stare at the building. This is ridiculous. She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need me to... What? Rescue her from the big bad spreadsheets?

But the image of Aleria alone in the dark lab won’t leave my mind. I need to fix this.

With a frustrated grunt, I push open the car door. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Marcus, ignoring his knowing smirk as I stride toward the entrance.

The lobby is quiet at this hour, my footsteps echoing off the walls. As I swipe my access card and enter the elevator, I catch my reflection in the mirrored doors. My tie hangs loose, my hair a mess from running my fingers through it too many times.

“I’m just checking on company property,” I mutter to my disheveled doppelg?nger. “That’s all. Completely professional.”

My reflection looks skeptical.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal a darkened hallway. Most of the labs are dark, but a sliver of light spills from under one door at the end of the corridor.

My knuckles hover inches from the door, poised to knock when a muffled thud echoes from inside. It’s followed by a sound that might be a whimper or might be the death rattle of my common sense.

My hand drops to the handle. Just as my fingers graze the cool metal, the door explodes open like a jack-in-the-box from hell .

I have a split-second glimpse of Aleria’s wide, panicked eyes before I register the object swinging toward my head.

Her lips part in a silent gasp of recognition, but it’s too late. The heavy object in her hands—a microscope?—arcs through the air, its trajectory aimed at my skull.

I duck, the rush of air from the near-miss ruffling my hair. My body reacts before my mind can catch up. My hand shoots out, fingers closing around Aleria’s wrist mid-swing. The momentum carries us both.

The wall meets Aleria’s back with a soft thud. Our bodies collide, a jigsaw of angles and curves locking into place. The microscope hits the floor, its clatter echoing in the charged silence.

Beneath my fingers, her pulse hammers a frantic tempo against my skin. Her eyes, wide and wild, capture mine. Flecks of gold dance in those brown depths, like stars in a midnight sky. Her lips part, each breath a warm whisper against my cheek.

The thin fabric of her lab coat betrays her every curve. She’s soft where I’m hard, yielding where I’m unyielding. Heat radiates between us, a living thing with a will of its own. Her free hand fists in my shirt. My skin prickles where her breath ghosts across my neck.

Unbidden, the memories crash over me, vivid and scorching.

The dusty library corner smells like old books and possibility. Aleria’s textbooks scatter across the floor, forgotten the moment my lips find hers. She tastes like the caramel latte from the campus coffee shop: sweet and addictive. Her hands fumble with my collar, unpracticed but eager.

“Shh,” I whisper against her neck. “Someone might hear.”

She giggles, the sound shooting straight to my chest before pressing her face into my shoulder to muffle it. Her dark curls escape from their messy bun, brushing my cheek. Something twists in my gut at how perfectly she fits against me.

My fingers tremble as they find the hem of her t-shirt. When I graze her breast, the small gasp she makes has me fighting for control. Heat pools low in my stomach as she arches into my touch.

“Okay?” My voice comes out rough, desperate.

She nods, pupils blown wide behind those thick frames. “Please, Liam.”

Her skirt rides up as she wraps one leg around my hip. My hand slides beneath it, finding simple cotton underwear already soaked through. She’s wet, ready, her hips jerking at my first tentative touch. My entire body thrums with need.

“Oh God,” she whimpers, too loud for the quiet library.

I cover her mouth with my free hand, feeling her harsh breaths against my palm.

My fingers slip inside her. She’s tight, wet, perfect.

Each roll of her hips against my hand makes my blood sing.

Her nails dig into my biceps through my worn college sweatshirt as she rocks against me, and I have to bite back a groan.

A book falls from the shelf beside us. Neither of us move to pick it up.

Her thighs shake as I curl my fingers, finding that spot that makes her bite down on my palm to stay quiet.

She’s beautiful like this—messy hair, flushed cheeks, completely undone.

My chest feels too tight, like my heart’s trying to break free.

When she comes, her body goes rigid against mine. The trust in her expression, the way she lets go in my arms—it cracks something open inside me. Something terrifying and vast and overwhelming.

She opens her eyes, still catching her breath, and looks at me with an emotion that makes my heart stop. Her fingers trace my cheek, and the tenderness in that touch sends panic clawing up my throat. This isn’t just desire anymore. This is something else. Something that feels like falling.

“Liam,” she whispers, and my name on her lips sounds like a future I’m not ready for.

“I have to go.” The words rip out of me as I stumble back, my body cold where hers was pressed against it moments ago. “Study group. I forgot.”

“Wait, what?” Her voice breaks, and so does something inside me.

But I’m already moving, my legs carrying me away even as every cell in my body screams to stay. My hands shake as I shove them in my pockets, my heart hammering so hard I can barely breathe. And I run.

I know she remembers that scene as well as I do. The same vulnerability shines in her eyes now. But this time, there’s wariness too. A wariness that speaks of old wounds and broken trust. A look I put there.

I did this. I hurt her. And now, years later, I’m still running, still hiding behind excuses and professional distance.

The truth of it settles in my gut, heavy and uncomfortable. I thought I’d changed, grown beyond that scared college kid who ran from his feelings. But here I am, again, using my position to keep Aleria at arm’s length, piling on work to sabotage her date.

We stand frozen in this moment, the silence broken only by our ragged breathing.

I swallow hard. “Do you greet all your colleagues this way, Dr. James,” I ask, my voice rougher than I’d like, “or am I special?”

Aleria blinks, recognition dawning in her eyes. A flush creeps up her neck, spreading across her cheeks. “I thought I heard...”

She trails off, her gaze dropping to where my hand still encircles her wrist. I release her as if burned, taking a step back to put some much-needed distance between us. The loss of contact leaves my skin tingling.

“I came to check on the lab,” I say, scrambling for an explanation that doesn’t make me sound like a stalker. “Ensuring all our valuable equipment is secure.”

Smooth, Valeur. Very convincing.

Aleria’s eyebrow arches, her earlier panic replaced by suspicion. “You left only minutes ago, and it’s late. No one here but me.”

I force a laugh. “Evil never sleeps, Dr. James. Neither does science. Or security.”

God, what am I saying? I clear my throat, grasping for my usual composure. “Forget what I said has to be done today. You can finish tomorrow. And since we’re both here, I could give you a ride home. It’s late as you said, and my car’s just outside.”

Aleria looks surprised by the offer, her eyes narrowing as if trying to determine if there’s some hidden agenda. “Oh. Um…sure. Let me just grab my things.”

I watch as she moves around the lab, gathering her coat and bag. In the harsh fluorescent lighting, I can see the dark circles under her eyes, the slump of her shoulders betraying her exhaustion. The guilt that brought me here in the first place intensifies.

Did I pile all that work on her just because she had a date? What kind of person does that make me? The thought gnaws at me, twisting in my gut.

The ride down in the elevator is silent and tense. Marcus is waiting in the lobby, his face impassive as always.

As we approach the car, I reach out to open the door for Aleria. In her haste to maintain a distance between us, she doesn’t notice my gesture. She turns, her elbow connecting with my ribs. I let out an oof , more startled than hurt.

Aleria’s eyes widen, a flush creeping up her neck. “Oh!”

“Careful there,” I say, rubbing my side with exaggerated care. “I’m beginning to think you have it out for me, Dr. James. First, the microscope, now this. Should I be worried about what’s next?”

Her initial embarrassment fades, replaced by a familiar spark of irritation. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she retorts, straightening her coat. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d bore you to death with a lecture on quantum physics. Much more efficient than physical violence.”

A smirk tugs at my lips. “Ah yes, death by incomprehensible science. Your specialty, I believe. Though I must say, I prefer the elbow to the ribs. At least that way, it’ll be fast.”