Billionaires Dollar Series

Here, on the cliffs where we’d once dared each other to move closer and closer to the edge.

We’re still daring each other, only the edge is one another.

It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done. But as I’ve learned these weeks, the scariest things are often the absolute best things for us-like confronting an ex, following a dream, or accepting a wild card of a man.

My lips are swollen when Liam finally raises his head. His eyes blaze with barely controlled desire, the echoes of it making my legs weak. His hand slides down to my uninjured one. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s go talk to your parents.”

“My parents?”

“You didn’t think you were the only one I came here to see, did you? Oh, you did. How embarrassing.”

Laughing, I shove him again. He doesn’t move an inch. “You’d think a man as smart as you would be nicer to the woman who just forgave him.”

“I should be, shouldn’t I? I think it’s the relief. It’s making me giddy.” His arm reaches across my waist, pulling me into his side. “I’ve missed having you here.”

“On the crook of your arm?”

He’s being ridiculous, and yet my smile is plastered to my face like a painting. “Remember this?” I ask him, pulling us to a stop outside the house next to us. It’s gotten new shutters, but otherwise it looks pretty much the same as when he’d lived there.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Of course I do,” he says quietly. “I can even see my bedroom window.”

“An elderly couple lives there now. I know for a fact that your bedroom has been converted to a-”

“Don’t say it.”

“-knitting studio.”

He exhales. “Could be worse, I suppose. Could’ve been used as a sex dungeon.”

“Perhaps it still is,” I suggest. “Knitting meets sex? There’s something kinky there, I’m sure.”

His low laugh sends a shiver down my spine. “That reminds me, we have so many things left to explore.”

“Nothing with knitting needles, I hope?”

“We can’t rule anything out prematurely,” he says. “What if-oh.”

My mom is standing on the porch, the front door open behind her. “I was coming out to tell you there’s freshly made lemonade, and what do I find?” she asks, surprise and delight clear on her features. “Liam Carter?”

He leaves my side to stride forward, a hand extended. “It’s me. It’s so good to see you again, Lucilla.”

Mom’s smile is wider than it had been when I’d arrived. “Look at you! All grown up, and so handsome, too. But I always knew you’d grow into your features.”

Both of them laugh, completely unashamed. Me? Well, apparently your mother can still embarrass you, even when you’re thirty.

“John!” Mom calls. “You have to get out here! You’ll never believe who stopped by for a visit!”

What follows is a flurry of fond hellos and commentary, of my parents’ beaming smiles. Liam handles it all like a pro, but there’s slight wonder on his face, like he’s surprised by the warmth of the reception.

Had he forgotten? My parents had once considered him half theirs.

“Did you come down from Seattle to see Maddie?” Mom asks.

“I did. I made a mistake the other day and needed to apologize in person.” He grins, looking over at me. “She’s forgiven me, I think.”

Mom puts a hand on his arm like he’s the injured party. “Of course she has. The two of you are friends.”

“We are,” he agrees.

At that, I slide my hand through his and ignore our audience. His fingers tighten around mine in acceptance.

And my parents don’t react to the gesture at all.

“That’s a nice car you got there,” Dad says, nodding to the sleek vehicle parked on the street.

“It’s ridiculous,” Liam protests. “I never drive it.”

Mom pulls us both into the house, waving away the question that surely hovered on Dad’s tongue. “Come on, you two. Let’s get Liam something to eat before he gets pestered with questions about turbo drives.”

The large hand wrapped around mine squeezes, and I squeeze it back.

Liam’s hand trails down my thigh, fingers soft against my skin. “Imagine that,” he murmurs. “You came, and there wasn’t a knitting needle in sight.”

Laughing, I grab one of my pillows and cover my face. It does nothing to shield me from the touch of skilled fingers over sensitive skin.

“This might be the best game we’ve ever played,” he comments.

“So this is all a game to you,” I tease, tossing the pillow away. “I knew you’d misspeak sooner or later.”

“And you’re just waiting for me to?” Liam kisses my hipbone, his five-o’clock shadow roughening my skin.

I run my hands through his hair. “Mhm. But I’ll tell you a secret.”

“Please do.”

“I’m hoping you won’t.”

Grinning, Liam turns over on his back and pulls me along with him. My hand flattens against his hard chest, the smattering of faint hair beneath. “I have no plans of screwing this up again. I like you too much.”

The words spread like a warm wave through my chest, joining the list of things I’ve learned over the past week. Like how he loves having sex sitting against the headboard, with me in his lap, so we can talk. And if I narrate what he’s doing to me-what he makes me feel-he loses control completely, exploding with deep, shuddering breaths that leave me giddy. I’ve learned that the best way to lure him away from work is with promises of food or me, preferably combined.

But most of all, I’ve learned that it’s scary to try to trust someone again, but that these moments are worth it-when his heart beats strongly beneath my fingers and the silence is light with comfort.

I walk my fingers up to the strong jaw resting above me. “I like you too,” I admit. “It’s like my childhood crush on steroids.”

He chuckles. “They should put that on Hallmark cards.”

“Perhaps they already do.” I nestle closer into the strength of his body and refuse to look at the clock on the wall. Just a little while longer.