Page 47 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

He fetches mine, and in a few minutes, I’ve set up the laptop he’d given me. I think it was Maya’s originally, but too bad for her.

“What are you?—”

“Elysium,” I say as I navigate to the portal. I look up at him and see a flicker of a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says. “I’m just curious what you’re up to.”

I’m sitting on the sofa, the computer on the coffee table in front of me. I pat the spot next to me. “Come see.”

“Elysium,” he says as he sits. “What is it?”

There’s an edge in his voice—he probably wasn’t expecting computer time in a honeymoon suite—but I want to share this with him. I want to show him how much I’ve come to trust him. With my life, and with my secrets.

“It’s a virtual world I created. A place where I could be free, even when I was locked in Reed Tower.” I log in, smiling as the familiar gateway appears, the verdant landscape spread out beyond.

“Sasha … this is impressive.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. I’ve been building it since I was fifteen.”

He leans forward, his expression unreadable as he studies the screen. On it, Vale stands at the gates, a confident, bolder version of myself. Or she used to be. Now, I think I may be catching up to her.

I show him all of it, explaining how there’s even a sensory component. “It’s been my true home for years.”

“It’s amazing.” It’s clear from his tone that he means it. My chest tightens, and in that moment, I realize how much his approval means to me.

“It started as a garden,” I tell him. “Just a small space where I could escape. Now it’s … well, you can see.”

“You’ve done incredible work here,” he says. “How far does the world extend?”

“Quite a long way, and I’m adding to it all the time. There’s something I want to ask you,” I admit, after a slight hesitation.

He sits up a bit straighter, looking a tiny bit surprised. “Okay. Shoot.”

I nod. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking …

there might be commercial applications, but I don’t know how to pursue any of that.

Things like VR therapy for people with phobias like mine.

Safe spaces for trauma survivors. Even just entertainment.

Maybe monetize it. Sell parcels of virtual land or build a marketplace for real-time trading.

I don’t know. I have a lot of ideas to cull through. ”

He looks at me, his focus shifting from the screen to my face. “You want my help turning it into a business?”

“I think so. Maybe? I don’t know the first thing about monetizing something like this.”

“And I do.”

I nod. “That’s why I want your advice.” I hesitate, suddenly aware of his proximity, the warmth radiating from his body. The way he’s looking at me now has nothing to do with business plans or monetization strategies.

His eyes drop to my lips for a fraction of a second before meeting my gaze again.

“We can talk about all that after the hearing,” he says, his voice softer now.

I close the laptop. “You don’t want to discuss it now?”

His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with a casual intimacy that sends a flutter through my stomach. “Sasha,” he says, my name like velvet on his tongue, “do you really want to talk business right now?”

The question hangs between us, loaded with meaning. We’ve been dancing around this tension, this pull between us that goes beyond our arrangement, beyond the terms of our deal.

“No,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not what I want.”

He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek. “What do you want?”

The air between us feels charged, electric with possibility. All the restraint of the past, all my stubborn resistance to his begging rule—it all feels distant now, less important than the need building inside me.

“You,” I say simply, surprising myself with my directness. “I want you.”

His eyes darken at my admission, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “Do you remember what I told you?” he asks, his voice dropping to that register that sends heat pooling low in my belly. “About how to get what you want?”

I nod.

His eyes light with a predatory gleam that sends a dark thrill racing through me.

He lifts his hand to my face, his palm warm against my skin as his thumb traces my lower lip in a way that makes it impossible to think clearly.

I lean into his touch, my body responding to him with a need that’s been building since the moment he laid down his rule.

His kiss is gentle at first, a question rather than a demand. But when I respond, leaning into him, something breaks loose inside him. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him as the kiss deepens into something hungry and fierce.

We’ve done this before—the heat, the urgency, the desperate coming together of bodies—but tonight feels different. Not just heat, but need. Not a need for sex, but a need for him. As if I’ll die in this moment if I can’t have this man. Liam Grimm.

He stands, pulling me up beside him, then leads me back to the window.

I stand there, my body on fire, as he finds the zipper of my gown, then slowly draws it down.

The fabric slips away, pooling at my feet and leaving me in nothing but a strapless bra and lace panties.

I should feel exposed, vulnerable, but all I feel is wanted.

His gaze travels over me with such heat and appreciation that it’s like a physical caress.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, then pulls me to him, his hands roaming my back, his fingers slipping under the band of my panties, his mouth claiming mine with fervor that makes me think of a starving man finally being served a meal.

I clutch the linen of his shirt, then practically rip the buttons off to get it open. I feel wild, alive, and right now all I want is to feel his skin against mine. He helps me, shrugging out of the fabric before pulling me close again, the heat of his chest burning against me.

His nimble fingers unfasten my strapless bra, and it falls to the ground between us. He’s still mostly dressed, whereas I’m in nothing but a scrap of lace pretending to be panties. The asymmetry of our states of undress makes me feel even more exposed, more vulnerable.

He takes a step back, then slowly looks me up and down, his gaze like a physical touch that leaves heat wherever it lands. I start to cover my breasts, the instinct to shield myself from his hungry eyes overwhelming, but I’m halted by his curt, sharp, “No.”

The command hits me like a slap, though his voice barely rises above a whisper. My arms freeze mid-motion, suspended awkwardly. The intensity in his eyes steals my breath—raw desire mixed with something possessive that makes my core clench with need.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he orders, his voice rough with want. “I want to see what’s mine.”

Mine. The word sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cool air kissing my naked skin. I obey, clasping my hands behind me, the position thrusting my breasts forward. His eyes darken as they fixate on my hardened nipples.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the curse more arousing than it should be. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Princess?”

He circles me like a predator, his gaze leaving trails of fire across my skin. I can feel the heat of him at my back, his breath stirring the fine hairs at my nape. My body responds shamefully, nipples tightening further, wetness gathering between my thighs.

One finger traces the curve of my spine, sliding lower and lower before teasing me through the lace of my panties. I bite my lip to stifle a moan.

“I can smell how wet you are,” he murmurs against my ear, his voice like dark velvet. “Is that all for me, Princess? Is your tight little pussy getting wet just from me looking at you?”

The crude words from his sophisticated mouth send a bolt of pure lust straight to my core. It’s deliciously filthy—and arousing— coming from Liam Grimm, the man who speaks in boardrooms with such eloquent precision.

His hands grasp my hips from behind, fingers digging into my flesh as he pulls me back against him. I feel the hard ridge of his cock through his pants, pressing insistently against my ass. He grinds against me slowly, deliberately.

“Feel what you do to me?” His teeth graze my earlobe, sending electric shivers down my spine. “I’ve been hard for you for so long, Princess. Dreaming of stripping you bare, bending you over, fucking you until you scream my name.”

He moves around to face me again, one hand sliding up to circle my throat in a hold that’s firm but not constricting. His thumb strokes over my racing pulse as his other hand cups my breast roughly, squeezing until I gasp.

“These perfect tits,” he growls, pinching my nipple between his fingers until I whimper. “I’ve wanted my mouth on them since I first saw you. Wanted to mark this perfect skin, leave evidence that you belong to me.”

Without warning, he bends and takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make me cry out. His teeth graze the sensitive peak before he soothes it with his tongue. My knees nearly buckle as pleasure spikes through me.

“Liam,” I gasp, my voice barely recognizable, husky with need.

He releases my breast with a wet pop, looking up at me with eyes gone nearly black with desire. “Yes, Princess? Something you want to ask for?”

His hand slides down my stomach, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of my panties, stopping just short of where I’m aching for him. I can feel how wet I am, how ready. I’m certain he can feel the heat radiating from me.

“These are soaked,” he murmurs, tugging at the lace. “I think they’re ruined. Should I rip them off you? Or would you rather ask me to take them off?”

I press my thighs together, trying to ease the throbbing ache between them. His hand slides between my legs from the front, cupping me through the damp fabric. I can’t help but rock against his palm, desperate for friction.