Billionaires Dollar Series

I wake up to the sound of birdsong and the feeling of warmth surrounding me, still caught in the current of a half-remembered dream. Birds are unusual enough to drag me out of sleep.

So is the arm lying across my waist, warm and strong. I snuggle deeper into the soft linen. If this is a dream, going back to sleep seems like the best thing to do.

But the arm around my waist moves, tightening, and I’m pulled against a hard chest. Someone sighs against my hair.

My mind pulls itself fully out of sleep.

Liam is holding me.

We must have come together in our sleep, sometime during the night, but I can’t remember it. My cheeks flame with the realization that it might have been me who reached for him.

Had he been awake?

Is he awake now?

A careful glance over my shoulder sets my nerves at ease. He’s not, eyes closed and eyelashes long against his cheeks. They’re dark at the base and light at the very ends, like burnished gold, as if they’ve been bleached by sunlight.

I stare at them for several long moments.

Other sensations intrude. My leg in between his. The rise of his chest. The softness of his lips.

I close my eyes, listening to the chirp of birds outside and the sudden thrum of my heart.

This has not gone according to plan.

But then, nothing about this whole arrangement has. Because it turns out that Liam is just as capable of enthralling me as he once had been, when he’d been nothing but a mop of honey-brown hair and bruised knees.

His breathing hitches once, and then he sighs, tugging me closer. The movement sets my back against his front, from head to toe, our bodies resting together like two spoons in a drawer.

And oh Lord, he’s hard.

It’s unmistakable through the fabric of his boxers. Barely breathing, I rest my hand on top of his arm around me. His skin is hot to the touch, like he’s operating his own private furnace inside.

Liam groans and shifts, his leg sliding between mine. His hand snakes under the hem of my T-shirt to smooth up my skin.

Holy shit.

Is he awake?

Does it matter?

The clear evidence of his erection twitches once against my back, like it’s giving me a response. No, it doesn’t.

But he won’t be asleep forever, and as good as his touch feels… the idea of having his hands on me while he might dream about someone else is like a firebrand down my throat.

“Liam,” I whisper, not moving from my position. His thumb grazes the underside of my breast. “Liam.”

“Mmm?” The hand goes flat against my skin. “Maddie.”

“The very one.”

A groan. “It’s too early.”

“The early bird gets the worm,” I say, like an idiot, because I can’t focus on anything with him pressing against me.

A hoarse voice replies. “That saying has never made sense to me.”

“It does to the bird.” I glance over my shoulder as he blinks his eyes open, the dark green the same color as the Washington pines outside our cabin window. His body tenses when he realizes our position-his hand on my skin, my leg between his, the hardness of him pressed against my back.

Our eyes meet.

And then he rolls onto his back, releasing me so abruptly that my skin smarts from the sudden absence.

He puts a muscled arm over his face. “That’s not embarrassing at all.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank God for the small mercies.” He glances down his nose at himself, like he’s telling his body to behave, and the image is enough to make me giggle. “Not helping,” he comments.

“I’m sorry.” I tug the cover up to my chin. “It happens sometimes, I know.”

He runs a hand through his hair, the thickness tousled and unkempt. It’s not fair that he just wakes up like that.

The words dance to the tip of my mind. I don’t mind. But the image of the woman at the bar stops me, the voice of the one who’d knocked on his door.

It’s been a long time since I was the girl Liam confided all his secrets to. And perhaps I don’t want to be anything less than that girl again, not to him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - ©.

“Soon enough you’ll be allowed to find a woman who can help you out with that,” I say, inclining my head to his midsection.

His eyes drift closed, a large hand raking over his face. “Right. Well, I hope I didn’t crush you in your sleep.”

“I’m uncrushed.”

“Good, because I’d hate it if I became the serial killer in this serial killer house.”

“Did you see that they have a basement? Rita told me yesterday.”

He opens one eye. “You didn’t go down, did you?”

“I didn’t, scout’s honor.”

“Good.” The eye closes. “Albert mentioned he wants to go for a walk around the grounds with his dogs before you and I head back to Seattle. The sooner I get him on board, the sooner we can end this charade.”

My hand tightens on the edge of the comforter. “So you’re actually going to see a man about a dog.”

His lips quirk. “Yes. Fancy that.”