Page 55 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)
Then he begins to move, and there’s nothing measured or careful about his rhythm. He claims me with deep, punishing strokes that have the sofa shifting beneath us, his fingers digging into my hip hard enough to leave marks, his other hand fisted in my hair to hold me exactly where he wants me.
“This what you needed, Princess?” he growls against my ear, teeth catching my lobe. “To be fucked so hard you forget everything but my name?”
“Yes,” I whisper, meeting each brutal thrust, taking him deeper, my nails raking down his back hard enough to leave welts. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
He shifts the angle, driving against that perfect spot with each stroke, and I feel myself climbing rapidly toward another peak.
“I’m not stopping, Princess.” Sweat beads on his brow, muscles corded with the strain of holding back. “Not until you come around my cock. Not until I feel you squeeze every last drop from me.”
His hand slips between us, his thumb finding my clit, circling with perfect pressure in counterpoint to his relentless thrusts and sending me hurtling toward the edge, this climax building even more intensely than the last.
“That’s it, baby.” His voice strained but no less dominant. “Let go for me. I want to feel you come apart. Now, Princess. Come for me.”
As if my body obeys his command, I explode, waves of pleasure so intense they’re almost pain crashing through me. I’m vaguely aware of screaming his name, of my body clenching around him with rhythmic pulses as my back arches off the sofa.
He follows moments later with a guttural roar, his rhythm faltering as he drives deep one final time, his release hot and pulsing inside me. His entire body goes rigid before he collapses onto me, his weight a welcome anchor as I float in the aftermath of truly touching heaven.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks, capable only of ragged breathing and occasional tremors of aftershock. His face is buried in the crook of my neck, his heartbeat thundering against my chest, his body still joined with mine.
Finally, he lifts his head, looking down at me with an expression that’s both satisfied and strangely vulnerable. “I was going to offer you a tour,” he says, voice raspy and worn. His fingers trace the curve of my cheek with unexpected tenderness. “But somehow we got sidetracked.”
I laugh, the sound free and genuine despite my exhaustion. “I’d say this was a perfect start to the tour.” My voice is hoarse from screaming. “Very … hands-on.”
His answering grin is boyish, transforming his usually serious face into something younger, more carefree. “There’s wine in the cellar,” he offers. “How about champagne? Seems appropriate for a celebration.”
“Mmm,” I murmur, running my hands down his back, enjoying the play of muscles beneath my fingers. “Champagne sounds perfect.”
He kisses me once more before reluctantly disentangling himself and standing.
I take advantage of the opportunity to admire his naked form—all lean muscle and elegant lines making up pure masculine perfection.
He pulls on his suit pants, leaving the waistband unfastened in a way that’s casually, devastatingly sexy.
“Don’t move,” he orders, and there’s just enough command in his voice to send a fresh surge of desire through me. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch him disappear down a hallway, then stretch languorously, enjoying the pleasant ache in muscles thoroughly used.
The sofa is incredibly comfortable, the view through the windows peaceful.
For the first time in recent memory, I feel completely at ease, unafraid of what might happen next.
And mostly because of Liam Grimm, the man I used to consider my enemy.
He returns bearing a bottle and two glasses, his chest still bare, his hair adorably mussed. Less the calculated businessman and more the man I’ve come to … care for? Trust? Want?
All of the above, and perhaps more. I’m not ready to put a name to the emotions swirling inside me, but I can’t deny they exist. Strong, complex feelings for this man who has been so many things. Enemy, captor, protector. And now something else entirely. Friend, I think, and lover.
He pops the cork with practiced ease, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “To victory,” he says, filling both glasses before handing one to me.
I sit up, unself-conscious in my nudity, and accept the champagne. “To freedom,” I counter, clinking my glass against his.
The first sip is cold and crisp, bubbles dancing on my tongue. “This is good,” I say with appreciation.
“Dom Pérignon,” he confirms. “2008. One of the best years.”
I take another sip, savoring the complex flavors. “You know a lot about champagne.”
He shrugs, settling beside me on the sofa. “I know a little about a lot of things.”
“And a lot about some very specific things,” I add, thinking of his skills in the bedroom. In the shower. On the sofa.
His laugh is low and warm. “I’ve never had complaints in that department,” he says, apparently reading my mind.
“Nor will you from me,” I assure him, leaning in for a champagne-flavored kiss.
What begins as playful quickly turns heated again.
The champagne is set aside, barely tasted, as hands and mouths find more interesting ways to celebrate our victory.
This time is slower, more exploratory, as if we’re both finally allowing ourselves to savor what we’ve only taken in desperate gulps before.
I straddle him on the sofa, taking him inside me inch by deliberate inch, watching his face as pleasure overtakes control. His hands grip my hips, guiding but not directing, allowing me to set the pace. I lean forward, my hair creating a curtain around us as I kiss him deeply.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice full of wonder. “The way you feel … the way you move …”
I roll my hips, taking him deeper, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. “Show me,” I whisper, my confidence growing with each gasp, each broken curse I pull from him. “Show me what you like.”
His hands tighten on my hips, urging me to move faster, harder. I comply, losing myself in the rhythm, in the building pleasure, in the expression of raw need on his face.
When release comes, it’s less like breaking and more like soaring—a sustained peak that has me crying out his name, my body clenching around him as he follows, his own climax triggered by mine.
Afterward, we curl together on the rug in front of the sofa, a blanket pulled over our cooling skin, the half-empty champagne bottle forgotten on the coffee table. His fingers trace idle patterns on my bare shoulder as I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“We’re going to have to get up eventually,” he says, though he makes no move to do so.
“Mmm,” I agree without conviction. “Eventually.”
The peaceful moment is shattered by the sound of a side door opening. We both freeze, then scramble to cover ourselves more thoroughly with the throw.
“Mr. Grimm?” a male voice calls. “The car’s been outside a while, I thought I’d check—oh!”
A middle-aged man in casual but crisp attire stands in the entryway, his face turning an impressive shade of red as he takes in the scene before quickly averting his eyes.
“James,” Liam says with remarkable composure. “We arrived a bit earlier than expected.”
“I see that, sir,” James replies, still looking determinedly at the ceiling. “Shall I come back later to prepare the house?”
Liam glances at me, amusement dancing in his eyes despite the awkwardness of the situation. “Give us half an hour, then you can prepare dinner. Ms. Reed will be staying with me.”
“Very good, sir,” James says, backing toward the door. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Reed,” he adds with admirable politeness before beating a hasty retreat.
The moment the door closes behind him, I burst into laughter, burying my face against Liam’s chest. “Oh, my god,” I gasp between fits of giggles. “His face!”
Liam’s laughter joins mine, his arms tightening around me. “Poor James. nine years of service and I’ve never given him a shock like that.”
“Should I feel honored?” I ask, looking up at him with mock seriousness.
“Absolutely,” he confirms, dropping a kiss on my nose. “Now, as much as I hate to say it, we should probably get dressed before he comes back with the rest of the staff.”
“Staff?” I echo. “How many people work here?”
“Just a few,” he says, disentangling himself from the blanket and beginning to gather our scattered clothing. “James manages the property, his wife Maria handles the cooking when I’m staying here, and there’s a groundskeeper who lives in a cottage at the edge of the property.”
I stand, wrapping the throw around me like a makeshift dress. “And all of them will know exactly what we’ve been doing,” I point out, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.
Liam grins, entirely unrepentant. “Would you like a tour of the house now? Or do you want to clean up first?”
I consider the pleasant stickiness between my thighs, the champagne spilled on my skin, the general dishevelment of my appearance. “Clean up,” I decide. “Definitely clean up.”
He nods, gathering the rest of our clothes. “The master bath has a shower big enough for two.” His eyes skim over me. “Though I can’t promise we’ll actually get much cleaner.”
I laugh, shaking my head at his insatiability—which, to be fair, matches my own. “Lead the way,” I say, following him toward what I assume is the master suite. “And after that, you can show me the rest of this amazing place.”
As we move through the house, his hand warm on the small of my back, I’m struck by how surreal this all feels.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was preparing to face my father in court, uncertain of my future, my freedom hanging in the balance.
Now I’m here, in this beautiful house with this complicated man, celebrating a victory that still doesn’t feel quite real.
But as Grimm leads me into a bedroom that’s all-understated luxury, as he unwraps the blanket from my body with reverent hands, as his mouth finds mine in a kiss that promises more pleasure to come—this, at least, feels utterly real.
This connection, this moment, this man.
Whatever tomorrow brings—the challenges of running my mother’s company, the ongoing search for my fugitive father, the complexities of whatever exists between Grimm and me—for now, I’ll take this—pure, uncomplicated joy and freedom, long overdue.