37. Helen
HELEN
The doorbell rings.
Alaska springs off my lap, nails skittering across the hardwood floor as she charges the door, barking like she’s defending the realm. Nine o’clock at night. I don’t usually get visitors this late.
“Hey.”
It’s not a visitor. It’s the man who could say “come here” and I’d accuse him of being bossy while walking straight toward him.
“Liam.”
Alaska beats me to him. He crouches immediately, coat falling open as he reaches into the pocket and pulls out a small paper bag.
“Hey, my favorite faux springer,” he says.
She drops into a perfect sit.
He hides the treats in his fists and plays his own version of guess which hand. Alaska taps the correct one on the first try.
“You didn’t even pretend,” he says, feeding her.
“What’s up?” I ask, leaning against the wall.
He straightens, adjusting his loosened tie. He’s far too collected for a man who’s been out-arguing grown adults all day. “Well, after the assistance I provided regarding your mortgage situation, I figured I should conduct a personal inspection of the property.”
“Is that right?”
“Risk management,” he says solemnly.
It lasts about two seconds before he pulls me into him.
His cologne is different tonight, more boardroom than cardamom. Armani, maybe. Or Hugo Boss. And I still react the same way. So there it is. It was never the scent. It’s him.
“I just missed you,” he says.
“And here I thought you were the strong one.”
“I am,” he replies. “Just not against you, Hellion.”
I kiss him as we step inside. There’s nothing elaborate about it, just his mouth on mine while my television drones in the background.
Somehow that makes it harder to ignore. Is this what I didn’t know I needed?
Someone who walks through my door just because he misses me.
It’s spontaneous, domestic, even unremarkable on the surface.
When did ordinary become the exception?
Liam scans the room. “You alone?”
“Yes. Anna’s out with a friend. Won’t be back until the day after tomorrow.”
He looks relieved. “Excellent timing.” He stifles a yawn, but it doesn’t quite hide the fatigue. His shoulders carry the weight of something bigger than a long day.
“I’ll make tea,” I say. “It helps with fatigue.”
One of his brows lifts. “Are you prescribing something?”
“It’s herbal.”
He makes a face.
“Chamomile and mint,” I add.
“I’m a bourbon man.”
“You can be a bourbon man at ten. It’s nine.”
He loosens his tie another inch. “Does this miracle brew come with side effects?”
“Yes,” I say, heading toward the kitchen. “You might relax. Possibly sleep.”
“Dangerous.” He follows me anyway. “If this tastes like lawn clippings, I’m never going to trust you again.”
“You already inspected the property for free. Consider this a complimentary service.”
He huffs a laugh then sinks back into my couch. We curl into each other while a Law & Order rerun murmurs from the television. The familiar dun-dun lands every few minutes. His arm drapes over my shoulders, heavy and warm. He actually drinks the tea I made him, doesn’t just hold it to be polite.
I watch his throat move as he swallows. His mouth tilts. He’s still tired, I feel it in the way he leans into me.
“Come on,” I say, setting my mug aside. I tug his hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Alaska springs up immediately. She’s already halfway to the staircase when Liam drops down and says something to her. A few more treats appear from his pocket, followed by a subtle point downstairs toward her backup bed—the one in the living room, since her primary throne is in my room.
She hesitates. Then, with shocking disloyalty, she turns and trots back down.
I stare at my dog. “Well, what do you know.”
“She understands negotiation,” he says smoothly.
Upstairs, my bedroom greets us exactly as I left it—sheets tangled, a novel splayed open on the nightstand, my sweater slung over the chair.
He pauses in the doorway, taking it in.
“You sleep like this?” he asks.
“I live like this.”
He breaks into a grin.
I step closer. I slide his jacket off his shoulders, hang it carefully behind a chair. Then the tie. Then the shirt. Each layer reveals more of the man who arrived buttoned into obligation and long hours, and now stands bare under my lamp.
“Lie down.”
He studies me for a moment—assessing, entertained—then obeys, stretching out face down on my bed. The breadth of his back under the lamplight steals my breath. It’s strong, defined, and suddenly…vulnerable.
I pour eucalyptus oil into my palm and warm it between my hands before I touch him. The second my fingers press into his shoulders, he exhales. Deep. Honest.
I move slowly, down the rigid lines along his spine, across muscle that feels permanently braced for battle. He softens under my hands inch by inch.
“No one’s ever done this for me,” he says, his voice rough with something that isn’t fatigue.
A wicked smile forms on my face.
“Well,” I murmur, leaning down to kiss between his shoulder blades, “that’s a tragedy.”
His laugh ripples beneath my palms. When I press into a tight knot near his shoulder, a low sound escapes him.
“God…I’d give up my billions to have this every day.”
“If you didn’t have your billions,” I say, “you wouldn’t need it.”
“I will always need this,” he counters. “Your this.”
The way he says it makes my hands still. Then he turns onto his back and opens his arms.
“Come here.”
I slide over him, then stretch along the length of his body. He exhales like I’ve undone him all over again.
“Hmm…” he groans.
“That bad?” I tease.
“That…was spiritual. Must’ve been the tea.”
I stay over him, weight balanced on his sturdy chest. “Why are you here, really, Liam Hunt?”
His fingers comb through my hair and tuck a strand behind my ear.
“What?” I say when he stays silent.
“Looking at you,” he says, “beats any tea or essential oil.”
My hand drifts over his bulge. “How about this?”
His breath shifts, but his gaze stays on mine. “Still you.”
A soft sound escapes me as his hand settles at my waist. I trace the angle of his jaw, touching the shadow of stubble there. We undress ourselves, watching each other. This isn’t the marina. My room slows us down.
I let myself look at him properly, from his taut chest to the carved lines of his abdomen. The dark trail of hair that makes my pulse spike. Heat rolls off him in waves, and I feel it gather low in my belly.
God help me.
And the way he watches me—as if I’m the rare thing here.
He slides his finger between my lips. I take it into my mouth, watching him. My tongue traces the pad of it, my teeth grazing. But he doesn’t let it last. He hooks that same hand at the back of my neck and pulls me in.
“I’m going to lick you dry, Hellion. And then I’m going to play with you until you’re wet all over again.”
And he makes it real. He flicks my clit first, then gradually escalates his pursuit, lapping my whole opening with ruthless accuracy.
“God Liam. And I almost lived without this?”
He withdraws his mouth, then drags himself back to me. “I wouldn’t have allowed it,” he says then claims my mouth. At the same time, his hand coasts down, thick fingers taking over my pussy for a few moments, circling, keeping it pulsing.
When he breaks the kiss, his gaze locks onto mine.
“Liam?” I breathe.
He glances toward his jacket draped over the chair. He reaches for it—then stops mid-motion. His expression changes. Thinking. Weighing.
“Hey,” I say softly, brushing my fingertip along his collarbone. “You’re acting strange. Is it really the tea?”
A breath leaves him, caught between a smile and something more serious. “No.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t bring protection,” I tease. “Because I don’t keep any here.”
“I did.” He retrieves it, holds it in his hand. And then he pauses, the heat in his eyes dissolves into something grounded. “Helena, there’s something I want to ask you.”
“Go on.”
“If you don’t want it, we don’t,” he continues. “Nothing changes. But I need you to answer honestly.”
“What is it?”
He keeps his eyes on me. “I don’t want to use it.”
It surprises me that I hold my breath.
“You don’t have to say yes,” he adds immediately. “I won’t be disappointed. I won’t push.”
I feel the weight of what he’s offering, and what he’s asking. He isn’t taking. He’s placing the choice in my hands.
“I’m not saying yes because you want it,” I tell him softly. “I’m saying yes because I do.”
His breath leaves him slowly, like he’d been braced for the opposite.
“If I stop using protection,” he continues, “it’s because I’m choosing you. There’s no one else. I won’t play the Game when it isn’t you. I won’t be with anyone else, Helena Mercer. Anywhere.”
“Same with me, Liam Hunt,” I say. “I promise.”
He brings my hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to my fingers before lacing them with his. “Hellion…I need to be clear about one thing. I don’t want kids right now. I won’t pretend otherwise.” His tone stays gentle. “Are you on birth control?”
If it were anyone else, it might feel awkward. But with him, it feels respectful.
“Yes,” I say. “I am.”
He searches my face one more time. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He gives me a small nod, then sets the protection aside. When he comes back to me, he lifts me in one decisive motion, and my thighs lock around his hips possessively. His palms span my back and beneath me, holding me high. Three strides and my spine meets the wall.
A wave of warmth rolls through my limbs as the tip of his cock presses at my entrance. I’m already slick. When he lowers me, there’s no resistance, just a smooth, consuming glide as he fills me in one steady motion.
“You could’ve made me work harder,” he teases.
Ironic, as I’ve been known to be difficult. “I only play complicated when it serves a purpose,” I say.
He moves, his powerful thighs keeping us fused through every thrust. The sensation inside me tips past reason. Every inch of him stretches me fuller.
“I’d choose this over loan servicing any day,” he says.
“Lucky for you, Hunt, I require both.”
He answers with his hands, palms spreading over my ass, pulling me flush against him.
I make a sound that starts startled and ends in want. Whatever he does to my core, it owns me.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He hisses, forehead dropping to mine as he absorbs it.
Then he draws back a fraction, watching where we’re joined.
Bare.
Flesh to flesh, pulse to pulse.
I lift myself and sink back down, needing to feel it, to see it, to understand the reality of it all at once. This time he loosens his hold just enough, letting me descend until he’s fully seated inside me, leaving his cock with no room left to move.
The reaction tears through him. His body compresses as he fights for control. And I’m unraveling faster than he is.
“I…I can’t hold much longer,” I plead. His hardness is impossible.
He keeps rocking into me, faster now. “Wait for me, Helena. I’m almost there.”
Tension coils between us. We’re beyond direction now. No lead. No follow. Just blind desire.
Orgasm crashes over me, fierce and consuming. It detonates low in my belly and spreads outward in molten waves. My nails dig into his shoulders as my body shudders around him. A groan launches out of him as his body pulses, releasing into me again and again.
For a moment, there is nothing but breath. Our chests rise and fall together. My legs remain locked around him. His forehead rests against mine. I cling to him, suspended between aftershock and awe.
“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he murmurs.
“If you are, don’t wake up.”
He takes me to the bed, our bodies slowing as we come apart. Sweat cools on our skin, and the proof of what we’ve done slicks between us. Neither of us minds the mess.