Dylan
I open my eyes to the sun’s rays peeping in through the crack in the curtains and I shield my eyes with the back of my palm.
I wriggle around the bed, making myself more comfortable then stare up at the pale, white ceiling.
When Elvis and Dean got married, Liam insisted that we treat each other like family, except, of course, when we’re at work.
That meant that whenever we went out to social gatherings and Liam got completely shitfaced, which was ninety-nine percent of the time, I would always be his designated driver.
In fact, I was the one who pretty much took care of him and made sure he always got home safely.
He always welcomed me into his home and made sure that I had my own room whenever I needed it.
To be honest, this happens a lot. Liam getting drunk, that is.
I don’t think I can ever recall a moment when he isn’t drunk after a huge night out.
And last night was definitely no exception.
After making sure he was sound asleep, I headed straight to my room.
I was exhausted and all I wanted to do was sleep.
Having not brought my pajamas, I crawled into bed with nothing but my underwear.
I hate whenever he gets like this because he always says things that I know he wouldn’t say if he was sober.
I know we flirt, especially when at work, and despite how hard it is for me to hide my feelings and control my urges at times, I’ve convinced myself that I cannot and will not tell Liam how I feel about him.
You know what they say, never mix business with pleasure or get involved with someone you work with because that’s just a recipe for disaster.
With much tossing and turning, I accept the fact that I’m not going to go back to sleep, so I pull off the covers, sit up and swivel myself around so that I’m now seated on the edge of the bed.
I reach for my pants and climb into them, then secure the button and raise the zipper.
I move over to the window and pull open the curtains, allowing the sun’s morning rays to shine into the bedroom before I head to the bathroom.
I turn on the faucet and splash some water over my face, then run my damp fingers through my hair.
After brushing my teeth, I grab my phone then quietly make my way downstairs to the kitchen where I make myself a much-needed coffee.
After filling my mug with the hot liquid, I curl my fingers around it, then spin around so that my ass is pressed against the counter, and I scroll through my phone.
Monica has already uploaded several images of last night’s Christmas party on her Facebook page.
I scroll through the images as I sip on my coffee, and then one of the images catches my attention and has me zooming in.
It’s a photo of Liam and me on the dance floor, where he has his body pressed hard up against mine, looking as though he’s fucking me.
I double tap on the photo, giving me a close-up of his face and I can tell from the expression on his face that he’s rather enjoying himself.
I zoom in on his face as much as I can and my mind wanders to several, delicious positions in which Liam is fucking me.
I close my eyes, allowing myself to be taken in by the thoughts, and I find myself trapped in the moment.
His eyes, those sensual lips, that delicious, decadent body, covered in silky smooth abs, and manly hands that I would love to have wrapped around my waist as he pounds me from behind.
In all the years I’ve known Liam, I’ve never once seen him completely naked, only down to his boxer briefs.
And from what I’ve seen through the outline of his clothing, I’m sure whatever is down there, wouldn’t disappoint.
“Oh, hey. I didn’t realize you were still here.”
The familiar deep baritone quickly pulls me out of my fantasy and I open my eyes to see Liam standing at the entrance to the kitchen, still dressed in his clothes from last night.
His shirt is untucked and his pants are sitting just below his hips and his hair is all frizzy. But damn, he looks fucking gorgeous.
“Someone had to make sure you got to bed safely,” I say.
“What time is it?” he asks, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.
I do a quick check of the time on the microwave. “8 a.m.,” I reply.
“Ewww, why the hell are you awake so early?” he asks, stumbling into the kitchen.
“I couldn’t really sleep. You know what it’s like not being able to sleep when you’re not in your own bed and all.”
He slowly but steadily walks closer toward me. “Oh, coffee, great, thank you,” he says, snatching the mug of coffee from my hand.
“Sure …no problem. I’ll just make myself another one then, shall I?”
He brings the mug close to his lips and his eyes stare at me from the top of the mug, and as he brings it closer to his lips he says, “Sorry,” before taking a sip.
After pouring myself another coffee, I move toward the living room and take a seat on the couch. Liam follows behind me and then takes a seat on one of the armchairs by the fireplace.
“What the hell happened last night?” he asks.
“You don’t remember?”
He shakes his head. “No, not really. I remember picking you up from your place and driving to the venue. Then going straight to the bar. Oh, that’s right, I also remember you being a total asshole when I told you I was headed to the bar.”
“Asshole?” I inquire.
“Yeah. If my memory serves me correctly, and it usually does…”
He takes another sip of his coffee and I can see that he’s trying to concentrate.
“Except when you’re drunk or hungover,” I tell him.
“I’m not drunk. Although, I wouldn’t be so sure on the hungover part. But I do remember you saying, and I quote, ‘Like I give a shit,’ when I announced I was headed toward the bar.”
“What’s your point?” I ask.
“My point is you were being an asshole.”
“A comment like that makes me an asshole?”
“Ah, huh,” he says, taking another sip of the coffee.
“Okay. If you say so.”
I know not to read into anything he’s saying right now.
This is how Liam is whenever he wakes up after a long night of partying and drinking.
Most times he’ll say a lot of hurtful and disrespectful things to me and even drop the C bomb, but I just ignore him because I know it’s the alcohol clogging his brain.
“Do you remember anything else?” I ask him.
“Um … no. Not really. Should I?”
I stare at him for a few long seconds, raising my eyebrows but not saying a single word, and when he doesn’t say anything, I just raise the mug of coffee to my lips and take another sip.
“Oh, God,” he finally says. “Dylan, we didn’t … ?”
“Fuck?” I offer. “No.”
“Oh, thank God,” he says.
“Am I that repulsive to you?”
“What?” he inquires.
“Nothing! So you don’t recall almost decking the living crap out of Damian?”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. Apparently the two of you were having a … rather heated conversation, and if I hadn’t intervened when I had, you’d probably be in a jail cell right about now.”
He lowers his head, and I watch as he rubs his forehead, trying to recall the moment. Then he raises his head again and looks at me.
“I don’t remember that.”
“But you remember me supposedly being an asshole? Huh, that figures,” I say.
“That’s not what I meant. I just mean that I don’t—”
“I know what you meant, Liam. Look, I took care of the situation, so let’s just forget about it, okay?”
“What situation?” he asks.
“I told you it doesn’t matter; I took care of it.”
“It matters to me,” he pushes.
I lower my coffee and then angle my eyes up at him, and I meet his gaze. “I don’t exactly know what the conversation was about because I intervened midway, but when I found you, you were about to deck the guy. Then he made a remark, you told him to go fuck himself, and then you fired him.”
“I did not!”
I glare at him with a questioning look.
“I did?”
I nod my head and finish the rest of my coffee.
“What exactly was his remark?”
“Jesus, Liam can’t you just let it go?”
“No. I want to know.”
“And I told you it doesn’t matter. Why do you have to make such a big deal about this and know every single detail?”
“Because I want to know what that dipshit said.”
Unable to take much more of his pushiness, I lift myself off the couch and make my way into the kitchen.
“Dylan?” Liam calls after me, and I hear him following.
I rinse my mug under the faucet and place it on the dish rack to dry, and Liam calls out to me again.
“For fuck’s sake, Liam, he called you a fucking pussy. There! Now will you drop this and leave me alone?” I ask, stepping away from the sink and brushing past him back into the kitchen.
One thing I have come to learn about Liam over the years, is that he makes it a point to make everything his business.
And I understand that’s probably how he became so rich and popular.
Although, I’m sure he also sucked a lot of cock to get to where he is because I know for a fact, he had no help from daddy.
I only met Tristan briefly at Elvis and Dean’s wedding, but in the short interaction I had with the man, I learned a lot about him and how he started Invested Financial.
While Dean chose to pursue his career as a porn actor, working for and Pornhub, with the full support of Elvis, and doing quite well for himself I may add, Liam decided to take over the family business so his father could go into early retirement and travel the world with his wife, Liam’s mother, Erin.