Braver (21 page)

Liam grunted and scratched at his suit jacket pocket. I retrieved another set of keys in there and found the right one to fit the door.

I gasped as we entered. The entire outer wall was glass, offering a breathtaking view of the twinkling city lights. It looked otherworldly, as if the stars had taken up residence on the earth just for one night.

I turned on a light switch with one elbow and gasped again. The penthouse was magnificent from head to toe. The floor had been painted with a smooth, white enamel, giving the entire place a modern feel. The furniture was sparse but looked comfortable, giving the space just the right touch.

I wanted to ogle my surroundings some more, but I had to focus on getting Liam cleaned up. He’d managed to puke a little on himself, and the stench of the tequila wafting up from it was making me gag. I managed to get us to what I hoped was his room before letting him fall to the bed.

“I’m going to get these stinky clothes off of you,” I called up to him as I removed his shoes. “Better not get any ideas, though.”

He groaned, and I knew that sex was the absolute last thing on his mind.

I got him out of his suit, then remembered, with a flush, that I’d made him come earlier at the club. I knew sleeping in sticky underwear couldn’t be comfortable. Or at least that’s what I told myself as I eased his fitted boxer briefs off of his body. I tried not to stare at his very nice endowment that I’d been grinding against earlier. It wouldn’t be polite, since he was fast asleep.

The shirt came off next, and I couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of his muscles. This was a man who took good care of himself other than tonight. I knew that each cut and each bulge was the result of hard work and many hours put in the gym. I leaned forward to catch a whiff of his skin, feeling guilty, and then covered my mouth. He still smelled of vomit, and it seemed like the tequila was leaving him through his pores.

I located a bathroom and filled a small basin with warm water. Nabbing one of the soft, fluffy washcloths, I returned to the bedroom and began bathing him. I knew it would be too difficult to get him into the shower.

“I just want to make sure you sleep comfortably,” I sang out, trying to convince myself as much as tell him. Maybe all I wanted was an excuse to run my hands over his body.

His cock twitched when I reached the lower half of his body, wringing out the cloth as I went. I dabbed around it before taking a deep breath before wrapping the washcloth around it to clean it thoroughly. I bit my lip as he moaned in his sleep and pressed my legs together. This was too sexy for me to bear.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed, hardening in my hand.

I put the washcloth back in the basin before moving on to his legs, trying not to look at his needy erection. It was enormous.

“Tease,” he whispered, sounding disappointed as I neglected that region.

“Maybe next time,” I joked, getting up and taking the basin and washcloth back to the bathroom.

When I returned, he was snoring in earnest. I covered him as best as I could and turned to leave, but he grabbed my hand weakly.

“Stay,” he said, not opening his eyes. “You got me home. I can do this much for you. It’s late.”

“I’ll be fine,” I protested, freeing my hand before setting it back down on the bed.

“There’s a spare room,” he murmured. “It’ll be fine. Please. I’d feel terrible.”

“Well, if I can keep you from feeling more terrible than you already do, I’ll stay,” I said, smiling.

His snore was my only answer.

I was pretty tired, but the spare bedroom down the hall without any trouble. The bed was just as comfortable as it looked, I discovered as I flopped down on it.

I couldn’t help but think about how sexy Liam had been, reclined on the bed and accepting my attentions with the washcloth. Biting my lip so I’d be quiet, I slipped my hand into my jeans and rubbed my damp pussy through my panties. I’d been aching for release ever since I gave Liam the lap dances back at the strip club.

It came easily with how turned on I was, only mere minutes before my climax swept over me, taking my breath, making me whimper even though the source of my fantasies was sleeping just down the hall. It was the sweetest orgasm, a perfect way to mark my attraction to Liam.

Panting, I flipped on the lamp next to the bed and noticed a glossy magazine. Picking it up, hoping a little reading would send me straight into slumber, I stared at it instead.

When I saw the cover, it all clicked. Of course I recognized him. How could I have not known? Liam Henry. One of the youngest and hottest millionaires in the city. His face had been staring at me all month from newsstands and magazine racks, just as it smoldered now.

That’s who I’d gone home with and who I was pleasuring myself over. A freaking millionaire.

I awoke with someone shaking my shoulder. Slitting my eyes open, I realized it was Liam. I sat up.

“What is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes and trying to get alert as fast as possible. “What’s wrong?”

“Did anyone see you with me last night?” he demanded. “Anyone at all?” He was dressed in a robe, I noted with disappointment, thinking about washing him last night.

I frowned at him. “What do you mean?” I asked. “You were at a strip club. That’s a public place. Maybe people were more interested in the stage than you, but you could’ve been seen.”

“Shit,” he breathed, pulling at his hair. “I’m so stupid.”

I tapped his face on the magazine. “Is that what all this was about?” I asked, looking up at him. “Stupid that Mr. Millionaire shows up at a seedy strip club?” My voice hardened. “Stupid that he took a stripper home with him?”

Liam scoffed. The sweet man from last night was nowhere to be found. He was all business, now.

“If I’d have taken you home, you would’ve been sleeping in my bed,” he said.

“Good deduction,” I shot back. “But it was me who took you home when you were too drunk to drive yourself.”

He paled. “I don’t remember a thing.”

“I’m not surprised,” I crowed. “You were wasted, carrying on and on about your fiancée or whatever. Former fiancée, that’s right.”

Liam scowled. “I am not having this conversation,” he said. The meaning behind his words were very clear to me.

“Oh, I’m gone,” I said, slipping out of the bed and around him. I’d slept in my T-shirt and panties, so I bent over to pull on my jeans, well aware of the show I was giving him. “But you loved me last night at the strip club. Check your underwear. They’re still sticky, I bet.”

Liam flushed as I laughed, tying my sneakers. “What did I do to deserve your torment?” he asked, following me from the spare room to the main room. “Was I mean to you? Cruel?”

“Not last night,” I said. “You were sweet as a kitten. I even kind of liked you. But now I see you’re showing your true colors. Maybe your fiancée was right to break things off with you. I wouldn’t be able to love you right now, either.”

This stunned him into silence for all of one second before he grabbed me by my wrist. “It was me who broke off things with her,” he shouted, “when I caught her with my business partner in my bed!”

I would’ve felt bad for him if he weren’t being such a dick. As it was, I jerked my hand out of his grip and retrieved my bag from the entryway.

“Save it for the tabloids, Mr. Millionaire,” I tossed over my shoulder, ripping open the front door and stabbing the button for the elevator. “They care much more than I do.”

I stalked down the street, feeling the need to walk out my righteous anger. After everything I did for him last night — lavishing attention on him at the club, driving him home, and getting him to bed – I would’ve thought that Liam would’ve been a little more grateful. He could just go straight to hell for all I cared.

I was perhaps halfway home when a familiar revving made me look at the street beside me.

It was Liam in the Porsche, driving to match my pace of walking. He rolled down the passenger side window.

“Please get in and let me take you home,” he called. “I’m sorry for acting like an asshole.”

“No thanks,” I said, giving a bright, false smile. “I’m more than fine walking. It’s a beautiful day.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “I’ll just accompany you back to your place. No need for you to go it alone.”

I looked back at the angry trail of cars behind him, half of them leaning on their horns. Was I leading a parade back to Casey’s apartment? Whatever. I marched on with my head held high, letting the line of cars double, and the anger of the other drivers increasing palpably.

“Please, I’m sorry,” Liam said. “I was a jerk. I get it. Please let me repay your kindness.”

“I’m okay,” I said, trying to hide a smile at the ridiculousness of the situation. Cars were starting to zoom around Liam, their drivers shouting, shaking their fists, and gesturing rudely. Some parade.

I laughed outright as I saw him set his jaw and grip the steering wheel. To his credit, he kept pace with me to Casey’s front door.

“This is me,” I said, jerking my thumb at the building. “Thanks for the company, but I have to go now.”

“Wait!” Liam shouted. He parked the car illegally and hopped out to the increased howls of the people behind him. I fought the urge to cover my face in embarrassment as he jogged over to me.

“I’m sorry for last night,” he said. “I really am.”

“You were fine last night,” I said. “Downright likeable. It was your attitude this morning that I didn’t like.”

Liam rubbed his face with his hand. I was happy to see that he’d at least hopped into a suit before leaving the house, though his face looked haggard with a hangover.

“You’re right,” he said. “It was rude. I have a very high profile to maintain and it wouldn’t fare well for my business if clients knew I was taking strippers home.”

The casual dismissal of my new profession stung. Lifting my head as far as it would go, I glared at him.

“You didn’t take a stripper home,” I said. “Collette Bell — Cocoa for short — took pity on your drunk ass and saw you safely home. That’s what you can tell your clients happened, if they care enough to ask.”

I turned to go, but he caught my hand again — much more gently than he had in his penthouse.

“I’m sorry, Miss Bell,” he said. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I’m under a lot of pressure personally and professionally, but that’s not an excuse to be rude to someone who was kind enough to make sure I got home okay last night. If you don’t hate me too much, would you do me the honor of going to dinner this evening?”

“So you can insult me some more?” I asked.

Liam sighed. “No. I want to show you how grateful I am. And sorry. Can I pick you up at six?”

Part of me wanted to be rid of him. But the other part already liked him despite everything he’d said this morning.

“Okay,” I said, against my better judgment.

Liam brought the hand he was holding to his lips and kissed it, their warmth searing my skin. “It’s a date, then,” he said, running back to his Porsche and taking off with a squeal of tires.

When I got up to the apartment, Casey was waiting for me, her arms crossed and a storm brewing on her brow.

“Why aren’t you at class?” I asked.

“They let us out early,” she said in the same singsong tone I was using. “Saw you from the window. Good night last night?”

I winced as her tone shifted to the accusatorial. “Nothing happened,” I said. “I just got him to his … um … penthouse and slept in a spare room.”

“Penthouse?” Casey’s eyes bugged out. “That’s all you had to say!”

She hi-fived me, and we laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up at home last night,” I said. “He invited me to stay, and it was kind of late.”

“I was so worried about you,” she said. “I just figured you decided to sleep with him.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “Nothing like that. He was plastered.”

“Well, to avoid another sleepless night on my part, I got you a present,” Casey said, holding out a slim box.

I opened it and smiled. “A cell phone!” I exclaimed. “It’s my first one!”

Casey’s look of shock made me laugh. “Seriously?” she asked. “Well, it looks like it’s high time for you to get one. It’s prepaid. Buy minutes for it when you need them. No monthly bill.”

“Thank you,” I said, hugging her. “You’re a good friend.”

I powered up the phone and discovered I already had a message.

“This is Casey,” it read. “Enjoy the phone! Save my number.”

“Thank you — really,” I said again.

“So, I saw him kiss your hand,” she said. “Are you sure nothing romantic happened?”

“He’s taking me out to dinner to repay me for my kindness,” I said, trying not to make a big deal about it.

Casey’s squealing and clapping made me do the same.

“No, I think I like him,” I groaned. “The only problem is that he’s some big millionaire.”

“Problem?” Casey said, her face skeptical. “That’s a solution to most problems people usually have.”

“His name’s Liam Henry,” I said. “He owns a successful business. And I’m Cocoa, your friendly neighborhood stripper.”

“Hey, if he was embarrassed to be seen in public with you, he wouldn’t have invited you to dinner,” Casey said. “You should just enjoy yourself. Who knows what’ll happen?”

“Who knows?” I mused, smiling.