Page 22 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

Fourteen

Claiming

I pause at the bedroom door, then tighten the sash on the hotel-provided robe. It’s soft and white and feels like a caress against my skin. More than that, it feels like safety.

“Dry off,” he’d said before leaving me alone in here. “Then come to bed. And Sasha,” he’d added. “Come out naked.”

He really couldn’t have been clearer.

But I can’t seem to make myself move.

I've stood here for at least five minutes, and each time I try to slip the robe off my shoulders, I freeze.

In Elysium, I can be as bold as I want. Vale can strip bare, can beg for his touch, can surrender without consequence.

But this is real. This is me—Sasha Reed, locked away for years, with no experience beyond digital fantasy.

If I walk naked into that room, I might end up cowering in a corner, hugging my knees as he looks down at me, anger flaring.

Better to make him angry while I'm standing. At least in the robe, I might have the wherewithal to fight back.

Decision made, I turn the knob and step out of the plush bathroom into the suite's even more plush bedroom.

Framed landscapes. An overstuffed armchair.

Uncovered windows that let in the vibrant light of the city at night, seemingly casting a spotlight onto the huge bed, as if it's a stage waiting for a performance.

What I don’t see is Grimm.

I start to turn around but am stopped by his firm hands on my shoulders.

He’s behind me, and I freeze as those hands roam down, sliding over the thick material that covers my breasts, then lower until his fingers find the cinched belt.

I expect him to open it, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he puts one hand on my waist to pull me back toward him.

So close that even through the thick material of the robe, I feel the hard length of his cock.

I tense, not wanting to admit to him or myself how deeply my body is reacting.

“Naughty girl,” he says, his breath teasing my ear as he speaks, sending shivers down my spine. His fingers release the belt, letting the robe fall open. “I believe I was clear.” His hands move to my shoulders, and he steps backward, taking the robe with him.

The brush of the material as it leaves my body feels both sensual and shameful, and I have to fight the urge to cover myself with my hands. I’m already in trouble for the robe. And even though he hasn’t said as much, I’m certain that trying to hide myself would be the absolute wrong thing to do.

Then his hands are on my naked skin. One on my waist, the other on my breast, his forefinger slowly teasing my nipple. I bite my lip, willing myself not to react. Hating how good this feels. How much I’ve craved the touch of this man who only sees me as a bludgeon he can hurl at my father.

“How long have you wanted me?” Once again, his whisper is a tease as sensual as his words.

“I don’t want you.” It’s a lie, and we both know it. Except I want it to be true.

The hand on my waist eases down, then slides along the juncture of my hip and thigh until his fingertips brush my sex. “Smooth,” he murmurs, trailing those fingers down over my waxed sex as he orders me to spread my legs.

I do—not only because I have no choice, but because I want what he’s offering. I hate myself for craving it—for craving him. But so help me, I do. I want to feel alive in this world, not only when I’m in Elysium. And why shouldn’t I?

He’s using me for revenge. It’s only fair I use him for sex.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he murmurs, and the heat in his voice coupled with his soft touch just about melts me.

I whimper, fighting an urge to beg for more as he thrusts two fingers inside me, my core closing tight around him, all semblance of coyness dissolving under this wild need.

He chuckles, soft and low. “Does your daddy know what a horny little thing his princess is? Do you like it when he spanks you?”

“Don’t talk about my father.”

“Tell me you want me.”

“Not you,” I lie, then gasp when the palm of his free hand smacks hard against my ass.

I should be pissed as hell. Instead, my nipples ache and my core clenches even more intensely around his fingers.

I bite my lower lip to keep from begging, hating the need that seems to have taken me over like a possessing spirit.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, and I tense, waiting for another smack. When it doesn’t come, I can’t escape the simple truth that I was both anticipating that sting … and craving it.

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—”

“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.