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Wicked Pleasure
Taryn Leigh Taylor
It’s a wicked game they’re playing… Breaking into enemy territory—a billionaire tech playboy's home—is what hacker AJ lives for. A hot fling with her sexy enemy isn't part of her plan. But falling for him might be the dangerous dare that AJ can't resist.


She thought she was immune to a deliciously sexy playboy’s charm. But this one lives up to every inch of his wicked reputation! Book three in Taryn Leigh Taylor’s The Business of Pleasure series.
AJ should definitely not be here. Breaking into enemy territory—especially a billionaire tech playboy’s home—is foolish...and just the sort of thing hacker AJ lives for. To get the dirt on Liam Kearney, she poses as a guest at one of his lavish, decadent parties. Nothing prepared AJ for a man this gorgeous, this charming and whose devilish eyes promise oh-so-much trouble.
A hot fling with her sexy enemy was never part of AJ’s master plan...nor is this insatiable craving for more.
This isn’t just a game anymore. As the stakes get higher, so, too, does the white-hot attraction sizzling between AJ and Liam. Loyalties, reputations, careers are all on the line. But AJ is a survivor. She’s always known how to walk that dangerous line and not get burned. Only, this time she might be in way over her head.
Sexy. Passionate. Bold. Discover Harlequin DARE, a new line of fun, edgy and sexually explicit romances for the fearless female.
TARYN LEIGH TAYLOR likes dinosaurs, bridges and space—both personal and of the final frontier variety. She shamelessly indulges in clichés, most notably her Starbucks addiction (grande six-pump whole-milk-no-water chai tea latte…aka: the usual), her shoe hoard (I can stop any time I… Ooh! These are pretty…!) and her penchant for falling in lust with fictional men with great abs. She also really loves books, which was what sent her down the wild path of writing one in the first place. Want to be virtual friends? Check out tarynleightaylor.com (http://www.tarynleightaylor.com), Facebook.com/taryntaylor1 (http://Facebook.com/taryntaylor1) and Twitter, @tarynltaylor (https://twitter.com/tarynltaylor?lang=en).
Wicked Pleasure
Taryn Leigh Taylor


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08708-7
WICKED PLEASURE
© 2019 Taryn Leigh Taylor
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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For Kim—because I love you. And because you love
Max. You’ll always be my favourite palindrome.
For Juanita—I put your name in the story as a tribute
for getting me through some tough writing battles.
Also, because it starts with J.
And for Crystal—thanks. Merci. Gracias. Danke. I know it’s redundant at this point, but I can’t say it enough. I couldn’t do this without you. #fact
Contents
Cover (#u72881686-779f-58ee-96b1-97772222e88c)
Back Cover Text (#ua078a8aa-69ee-5b45-9cd5-1aa65871481c)
About the Author (#u1f018f19-5b55-5c2a-91e4-8d209cacdad7)
Title Page (#ufb91b30f-c0bc-5140-8694-ca472f52e77e)
Copyright (#u1c72e518-680a-5a8f-980d-1a9a2b011816)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u17a49a66-9292-5216-9ab0-5f540f6244b3)
CHAPTER ONE (#u552ef9cb-e79c-5657-8614-8f7268154ee6)
CHAPTER TWO (#u49dd09cd-515c-59a8-956d-e6ba264c25ff)
CHAPTER THREE (#u03bb449c-793d-5a4f-aa93-f0c07c83bae1)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u772f96ca-7c0f-5d85-adca-42a6f3f9c9f7)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u9be4c47a-11f8-5494-bc25-4865b8bc91f4)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u872f47ce-49ad-5575-8505-d58d75d2453f)
IT HAD BEEN a long time since she’d crashed a party.
AJ weathered yet another snooty look from yet another glittering society princess, dripping diamonds and sipping Dom. She waited until Socialite Barbie passed before she looked down at herself.
She’d miscalculated a little there, AJ conceded, tugging discreetly at the hem of her dress—short, tight and black. Club wear might get her the right kind of attention when she went dancing—which was to say she never sat out a song or paid for a drink—but tonight, she stuck out like a poor relation. She’d been so busy hacking her way into this shindig that she hadn’t paid too much attention to the dress code.
She should have bought something new. Something fancier.
This was a Liam Kearney event, after all. The tech magnate was known for his lavish lifestyle, his womanizing ways and his profligate parties.
Also, his tech was fucking epic.
AJ let her gaze wander over her lush surroundings. Lucrative, too, judging by his fancy digs.
She’d never been to a real Beverly Hills mansion before. The place had the works: tennis court, fountains, greenhouses, indoor/outdoor pool (currently full of bikini-clad models, natch), and most importantly, fancy French doors that led to Liam Kearney’s office.
AJ reached into her shiny little purse thing, pulled out a tube of lipstick and did a quick reapplication in the ugly but ornate mirror hanging on the wall beside her. Probably cost more than her rent, she thought with derision, careful to angle the opening of her purse away from the closest of the six hidden cameras she’d located in her visual sweep. She placed the lipstick back inside, surreptitiously starting the stopwatch on her phone as she withdrew her hand.
He might have gaudy taste in mirrors, but his surveillance was expertly placed. Not that she’d expect anything less from the man who’d practically redefined cybersecurity. The whole place was wired up tight, and it was impressive as hell. Good enough to keep most professionals out.
AJ tucked the satin bag back under her arm.
Of course, she wasn’t most professionals.
She took a couple of steps before she paused and pretended to fix her shoe, grabbing the doorknob for support. It turned easily in her hand, without setting off any audible bells or whistles. With a quick glance to make sure no one was paying attention, AJ slipped into the room, closing the door behind her.
Four, no five, discreet cameras took immediate notice of her. With that kind of setup, a silent alarm was probably overkill, she figured, sizing up the place, but she wouldn’t rule out the possibility yet.
The office itself was modern and stylish with six big, evenly spaced windows that you could see through from the street (provided you were packing a pair of decent binoculars and had the skills to avoid the omnipresent private security patrol), and a computer setup with enough monitors to impress any fourth-rate TV show set decorator, but shit for doing any real work.
AJ stopped at a bookshelf crowded with tech awards and press clippings, careful to make sure whoever was monitoring the feed mistook her for an idly curious partygoer and not the security threat she was.
Despite herself, she was a little impressed by the shiny hardware. From national commendations for tech innovation to entrepreneur of the year, the man had won every accolade there was.
She picked up a heavy silver frame and stared at the photo of young Liam as a newly minted CEO. He looked...scrappy. Determined. Not so much happy as hungry, and she respected that.
He’d been eighteen years old when he’d launched Cybercore.
It was beyond impressive. Also the recipe for a million photo ops.
She set the frame back on the shelf.
No thanks.
AJ preferred to make her mark on the tech industry in less...public ways.
As though she had all the time in the world, she meandered toward the desk.
From the imposing black leather chair to the Cybercore logo spinning on each of the high-res monitors, everything about the room screamed Inner Sanctum of a Tech Mogul.
AJ didn’t buy it for a second.
She was good, yeah. Hell, she was the best, but the fact that she’d just waltzed into this “office” without tripping anything direr than a couple of security cams told her this room was just a showpiece—a quick stop for nosy houseguests who wanted to see where the magic happened.
This was not where Liam worked, and this was definitely not where he stored anything of importance.
Which meant that her gut had been right when she’d spent hours yesterday poring over the blueprints of his mansion.
The office was a decoy; the server was in his bedroom.
AJ rolled her eyes, because of course it was.
Rich dudes were so fucking over-the-top sometimes. Honestly...sleeping with it like he was a dragon guarding his treasure or something. Luckily, AJ was a firm believer that the greater the challenge, the more rewarding the heist.
Max would be so pissed.
AJ pushed the rogue thought aside. She might be in enemy territory behind Max Whitfield’s back, but she was only doing it to help him. Besides, what her boss didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Well, “boss” was a bit of a stretch.
She was more of an independent contractor. Ever since she’d gotten caught hacking into Whitfield Industries by that arrogant dickwad, Wes Brennan. But instead of reporting her like Dickwad had suggested, Max had hired her, and it had really helped her out of a jam. The kind of jam most people went to prison for...
AJ was nothing if not loyal. Somebody was fucking with Whitfield Industries, and that meant someone was fucking with her.
And she was damn sure that somebody was throwing this party tonight.
Grabbing the arm of the chair, she turned it so it faced the window and took a seat, unclasping her purse as she set it in her lap. Someone should be here any second now...
As if on cue, the doorknob turned. AJ stole a glance at her phone. Forty-five-second response time, give or take. Conspicuously slow for a silent alarm, so she’d been right about it being just cameras.
The smug smile playing about her lips died instantly as AJ spun the chair around to face the man who’d just walked in on her.
Ho-ly shit.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here,” he said.
And she’d been expecting some covert security lackey to be dispatched to check on her, not Liam Kearney himself, complete with a tumbler of amber liquid in one hand and a flute of champagne in the other.
Inconveniently, he was sexier in real life than her Google searches and his television interviews had suggested. She knew he was hot—the man got more press than the latest reality TV starlet’s nude selfies—but nothing had prepared her for his presence. There was something about him that didn’t quite translate in his pictures, something almost...wild, which was not usually the adjective that came to mind for a man who was known for his savant-like coding and his three-piece suits.
Her lady parts gave a twinge of appreciation, and AJ realized that it had been a long time since she’d gotten her flirt on. And an even longer time since she’d, ahem, taken care of things. Why else would she be salivating over a man so completely not her type?
She liked dangerous guys, ones who didn’t look like they’d just come from the cover shoot of CEO Monthly, with their clean-shaven jaws and their jet-setting tans and their thousand-dollar haircuts, short on the sides, slightly longer on top. In fact, the only thing that kept all that masculine perfection from being completely repulsive was the devilish spark in his hazel eyes. There was an implied dare in them, and AJ had never been good at turning down a dare.
She dropped her gaze pointedly before meeting his eyes again. “The fact that you’re double-fisting drinks leads me to believe otherwise.”
His grin was lethal, a cocky mea culpa that probably earned the forgiveness of women from six to ninety-six, even though it was completely unrepentant. “Detail-oriented. A quality I admire.”
Yeah, she’d figured that out pretty fast. Not often the king of the castle himself came to check on a security blip. AJ wasn’t quite sure what that was about. It didn’t make sense.
“I was just looking for somewhere quiet, away from the crowd,” she lied with her best damsel-in-a-tiny-dress head-tilt. “These shoes are killing me.”
She leaned back in the plush leather chair, propping her heels on his desk, ankles crossed so that her strappy gold stilettos were on full display.
There was a suspended moment as his gaze slid the length of her legs, and she ignored the phantom warmth that followed in the wake of his inspection—an inspection that lingered for a beat too long on her purse. Reflexively, AJ shut it, the snick of the clasp deafening in the silent room. Her breath caught at the snap of awareness as he reestablished eye contact. Something indefinable shifted in the depths of his gaze...and then he pushed the door closed behind him with his elbow, totally falling for it.
AJ exhaled.
When it came to distractions, the classics always worked, though AJ couldn’t help a pang of disappointment that she’d won so easily. Liam might be a renowned tactician, but that didn’t change the rules of the game: rock beat scissors, scissors beat paper, and penis beat brain.
She let a hint of a smile curve her lips. “So what’s your excuse for ducking out of the party?”
“The truth?” he asked, walking toward her. He moved with a lot more grace than your average tech geek. Hell, he moved with more grace than some of the more accomplished pickpockets she’d known.
It took a second before AJ realized she was pressing back against the chair at his approach. She swallowed and forced her muscles to relax as Liam circled the desk, positioning his body between her chair and the desk. A show of dominance that she recognized—she was good at reading body language—but that didn’t mean it didn’t work. She made a conscious effort not to move her feet even an inch to accommodate his big frame as he leaned a hip against the dark wood surface. The soft material of his suit jacket brushed her bare calf, and she shivered at the sensation.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” His voice was deep. Seductive. “And I was looking for an excuse to rectify that.”
He held out the champagne flute.
AJ cocked an eyebrow and ignored the stemmed crystal, relieving him of the tumbler in his other hand instead. “Well then, the first thing you should know about me is that I prefer scotch to bubbly.”
He let her see the flare of interest in his eyes. “It’s bourbon,” he advised, setting the champagne on the desk beside his hip.
AJ took a sip. Potent, but smooth. Much like the man who’d provided it.
He reached into the left side of his jacket, retrieving his phone. His thumb flew over the surface of the sleek, matte black rectangle with impressive speed. It took a moment longer than it should have before the soft whir of the security cameras simultaneously shifting direction penetrated her consciousness, before her gaze cut from his big, capable hand to the reflection of his screen in the monitor behind him. Before she could glean anything of import, he was already tucking his phone back into his interior breast pocket.
Damn.
It took everything in her not to flinch at the wasted opportunity. She’d gotten soft, working for Max, holed up in her cushy apartment and doing everything remotely. She’d been off the front line too long. The old her would have capitalized on a gift like that—a glimpse at the screen of her adversary.
Maybe she still could...
She’d come here to drop a backdoor into his main server so she could poke around at her leisure and figure out how to thwart any further attempts to hobble Whitfield Industries. It was supposed to be a quick, covert mission, under the radar all the way.
Liam had messed up the covert part of her plan by walking in on her, but he’d also presented her with an opportunity she’d never dreamed of—the chance to do the same thing to his phone.
She’d made some mods to the program Max had asked her to look into, the one that had been covertly installed on his sister Kaylee’s phone. It had turned out to be Cybercore issue, which put a big red bull’s-eye on Liam Kearney’s chest. He’d rocketed to the top of the suspect list—douchebag most likely to be responsible for the hack on Whitfield Industries.
After she’d analyzed the malware, she’d tinkered a little. It had good bones, but she’d made it even better. If AJ could get her phone close to his, she could install the spy app remotely and have access to everything: his passwords, his emails, his whole life. Excitement at the prospect bubbled in her chest. There was something poetic about beating Liam Kearney with his own tech.
But to make that happen, she needed him to stay close. Really close.
AJ licked her lips, not missing the quick dart of his gaze to her mouth. Her smile was indulgent.
This was going to be easier than she’d thought.
She waited until he raised his eyes to hers. “How can you be sure?”
“That it’s bourbon? I poured it myself.”
She smiled despite herself at his dry, offhand delivery. “That we’ve never met,” she corrected.
He searched her face, and her breath caught beneath his scrutiny, trapping her in the moment. She couldn’t look away.
“I’d remember you.”
AJ’s pulse stuttered like Morse code, but before she could parse the hidden message, the door to the office swung open, and in walked a vest-and-bow-tie-clad waiter brandishing a tiny silver tray with a tumbler of bourbon balanced dead center. Liam grabbed it, thanking the waiter he’d obviously summoned with his phone—Kearney was a tech god, not telepathic—and AJ used the distraction to arm the app on her phone with a quick up-down-up-up press of the volume buttons through the satin of her purse.
The waiter removed the abandoned champagne flute before he turned and left as efficiently as he’d appeared, and just like that, she was alone with Liam again.
It was time to initiate Operation Phone Hack.

CHAPTER TWO (#u872f47ce-49ad-5575-8505-d58d75d2453f)
AJ TOOK A showy swallow of her drink as she pulled her feet off his desk. She hated to gulp down the expensive stuff, but she needed to move her glass into her left hand, and giving him the impression she was a little tipsy might help sell the next part of her plan.
“Neat trick.” AJ tipped her chin in the direction of his bourbon. “Tell me, does everyone come when you call?” she asked, the words low and suggestive as she grabbed her purse in her right hand and got to her feet.
The key to a believable stumble was to commit, trust your mark to catch you, and then keep the response understated. No overwrought flailing or ridiculous exclamations. Even a layman could see the hammy stuff from a mile away.
With a credible slip, AJ widened her eyes—little details were important—bringing her purse hand up and bracing it against Liam’s chest in an attempt to catch herself. A quick twist of her wrist ensured the satin lined up right about where that interior suit pocket that housed his phone should be.
The remainder of her drink sloshed perilously close to the rim of the glass before she fully regained her balance. As far as misdirection went, it was a nice touch, even if she did say so herself. And she knew it had worked by the way Liam’s palm had landed on her hip to steady her as he turned his attention from her glass back to her face.
He let his gaze wander down to her mouth and back up. The low hum of arousal between them intensified. “As a rule, they call after I make them come.”
Her knees went soft, and his hand tightened on her hip.
“You okay?”
Was she okay? Sure, if you ignored the part where she’d spent the last four days figuring out how to break into this man’s bedroom without being detected, and now all she could think about was how much she wanted to take him up on the implied invitation to join him there.
Goddamn, she needed to get laid. Usually, when the itch got bad enough, she went out and took what she needed. No fuss, no commitment. But if she was being honest, no one had lit her up for a while.
Not like this.
“Guess the bourbon’s hitting a little harder than I thought.”
It was a lie, of course. She wasn’t drunk. You couldn’t run a job if you weren’t 100 percent in control of all your faculties. And yeah, matching wits with a worthy adversary always revved her up a bit, but this...this hormonal glitch was another level altogether.
“Perhaps a little fresh air would help.” He took his hand off her hip, reaching beneath the lip of the desk, and the twin sounds of music and laughter rushed into the room.
AJ glanced over her shoulder to watch as the window closest to them retracted into the wall, granting them access to a wrought iron terrace.
When she turned back, he seemed closer than he had a moment ago.
God, he smelled good. Warm and sexy. Expensive. Eau de Rich Guy.
Yeah, distance sounded like the smart plan right now.
“Perhaps it would.” She meant it to sound mocking—who the fuck said perhaps anymore?—but it came out a little breathless.
She pulled her purse back from his chest, tucking it securely under her arm as she straightened. That should have been plenty of time for the malware to install, she figured, turning and stepping through the space where the window used to be, taking a bracing sip of her drink as the warmth of the night surrounded her.
“Some party.”
He glanced around the glittering mass of guests amid the fountains and twinkle lights, chatting and laughing while they flitted around. Seeing. Being seen. “You don’t like it?”
“Not really my scene.” Pomp and circumstance made her itchy.
“Really?” Liam ran a hand over his jaw. “I thought all women loved a reason to dress up and drink a man’s bourbon.”
Cynical words. AJ’s brows lifted as she realized for the first time that he was a little itchy, too. “Huh.”
“Huh, what?”
AJ turned to face him, leaning a hip against the balustrade. “Just drinking in the astounding realization that the tech world’s most infamous international party boy hates his own parties.”
He shot her a what-are-you-talking-about look and he lifted his drink. The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed. “What makes you say that?”
“Besides the fact that you’re up here talking to me instead of mingling? I’m good at reading people. And I have a doctorate in the nuances of cynicism. You just bypassed world-weary and jumped straight to jaded.”
He considered that for a moment. “Some might argue that talking to a beautiful woman is well within the definition of mingling.”
“You’ve purposefully ignored three flirtatious waves and the arrival of a senator.”
“Impressive. I could use you on my security team.” Liam blew out a breath, and AJ didn’t miss that his gaze went directly to said senator, who was holding court next to one of the tiered fountains that dotted his property.
“So is that what you think of me?” Liam asked. “Jaded international party boy?”
She didn’t buy the casual spin he put on it. It sounded like a real question, and she let her femme fatale act slip for a minute. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to think?”
The world went still for a second, as though the brief flash of understanding that passed between them in that moment had been captured, a photograph in time. Then AJ blinked, and real life resumed.
“I’ve always found it a tactical advantage, the ability to disappear into the stereotype.” Liam’s gaze turned pointed. “Much easier to get what you want when people underestimate you, don’t you think?”
Danger prickled along AJ’s spine, and for the second time that night, she had to actively loosen her muscles. Rhetorical question. He didn’t know anything. First rule of surviving on the street—if you act guilty, you get caught. She might not pick pockets anymore, but she’d do well to remember the lesson. “You don’t seem like a man who has too much trouble getting what he wants.”
“Not usually.” He eyed her attentively. “But I guess we’ll find out.”
That trickle of lust she’d been fighting since he’d walked into his office upgraded itself to a gush, but before she did something monumentally stupid, his phone vibrated, and they both dropped their gazes to his chest.
“Aren’t you going to get that?”
Liam shook his head, and AJ tipped hers to the side, studying him. “I’ve never known a titan of industry to ignore the siren song of a phone call.”
“Do you know many? Titans?”
“A few.”
His phone vibrated again. AJ stepped closer, reached toward him, and when he made no move to stop her, she slipped her hand inside his suit and pulled out his phone.
“Dom,” she announced, reading the contact info on the display. “As in dominatrix? Are you late for a bit of the whip and tickle?” The phone continued to buzz insistently against her palm. “You must be a good customer. She seems eager for contact.”
“Dom as in Dominic. Business acquaintance. He could probably pull off the leather, but judging by his golf game, I doubt his mastery with the riding crop. He’s not very athletic.”
“Well, color me disappointed.” With a twist of her wrist, she held the phone out to him, screen up. “Might be important.”
Liam took the phone and tucked it back in his suit without so much as glancing at it. “Work has a tendency to consume you if you let it.”
AJ turned back to the balcony, leaning her forearms against the railing. She liked it when work consumed her. Kept that bad shit from creeping into her brain. “You don’t let it?”
“As I believe we already established, I live to party.”
She laughed at that. “You’re so full of shit.”
She felt his eyes on her profile, the burn of their focus. Barroom talk was out of place at a cocktail party. She probably shouldn’t have said that.
“You see?” he asked, his voice deliciously husky. “I told you.”
The tease worked, and she gave in to temptation, looked over at him. He had a tiny jagged scar on his chin. “What?”
His gaze roamed her face in the dim light. “I’d remember you.”
Something in his eyes, so dark, ran through her like an electrical current. Her laugh sounded fake, even to her own ears. “Sure you would. Just like you remember everyone else at this shindig?”
Liam flickered a surveying glance at the grounds, teeming with people. His easy shrug of confirmation sharpened her focus.
“There’s got to be two hundred people here.” Two hundred and twelve, according to her research. All required to RSVP for the code that would grant them access tonight. And another thirteen who’d politely declined, which had essentially nuked their bar codes so they’d been of no use to her. This had been a tough party to crash.
“Give or take,” he said, with a sip of bourbon.
She turned toward the terrace railing and rested her elbows on it, staring down at the busy garden below. There were people milling about, but her eyes snagged on a mismatched couple almost directly beneath her, illuminated by the fancy lights strung all over the grounds.
“Who’re those two?” she asked, with a head tip at a stout, balding man who’d cornered one of the waitstaff so he could raid the shrimp platter while the gorgeous woman on his arm guzzled champagne with alacrity.
Liam turned to see her pick, and the sleeve of his jacket brushed her upper arm, unleashing a wave of goose bumps across her skin. “Phillip Henderson and his much younger wife, Tara Billings-Henderson.”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You could be saying any names. How would I know if you’re full of shit or not?”
He leaned forward on the railing and raised his voice a little. “Phillip. Tara. So glad you could make it tonight.”
The mismatched twosome lifted their heads like a couple of well-trained Labradors at the sound of their names, eager for their host’s attention.
“Wouldn’t miss it!” boomed the bald guy, yelling much louder than necessary and affording AJ a full view of all his teeth and his mouthful of masticated shrimp. “You always throw the best parties!”
The blonde dropped her husband’s arm like she’d been burned, executed a shampoo-commercial-worthy hair shake and waggled her fingers. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night. Save me a dance?”
In a nonanswer, he raised his glass to them, took a sip of bourbon and turned his whole body to face AJ.
“Super classy guest list,” she complimented, hoping the irony didn’t make her sound petty. At least they were on the guest list.
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
The sexy pulse of the base-heavy track the pool-deck DJ was spinning spilled through the night, making her want to dance like she did in the club. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and sway with him while his hands rode the small of her back, the curve of her ass, pulling her close so she could grind her hips against his while he kissed her neck...
Shit.
She was in big trouble, and the look on his face did nothing but confirm it.
“I’m Liam.”
AJ almost laughed. “Oh, I know.”
“Then it appears you have me at a disadvantage.”
Her hand tightened on her glass at the accuracy of his statement. But it wouldn’t be true for much longer if she didn’t get her shit together. She wasn’t here for his animal magnetism, she was here for his tech.
The reminder gave her the strength to shoot him a cool smile. “Not a position you’re used to, I’m sure.”
He stepped closer. It was disconcerting, the way his broad shoulders blocked out the view of anything but him.
“On the contrary, I pride myself on being familiar with a wide array of positions.”
AJ swallowed, ignoring the urge to mess him up a bit, rake her hands through his hair, tug his tie askew, get him a little bit naked. “You’re handsomer than I expected.” The thought slipped past her lips and raised his eyebrows.
“That didn’t sound like a compliment.”
She gave him a once-over and shrugged. “Kind of cliché is all. I mean, hella smart, stupid rich and disgustingly handsome? It’s a little much. Most people settle for two out of three.”
His gaze roamed her face. “I don’t believe in settling.” His voice was low and intimate and vibrated at the perfect frequency to tighten her nipples. “Tell me your name.”
“A—Robin.” She remembered her alias at the last second. Damn. Maybe that bourbon had affected her a little. She’d been this close to saying AJ. That would have been a rookie mistake, giving him her real name. Well, real enough, anyway.
“Robin,” he repeated, leaning forward. Or was she leaning forward?
Either way, their breaths mingled, and her breasts ached for his touch, and being horizontal sounded like a way better idea than being vertical because being vertical was highly overrated as a state of being anyway.
It would just figure that the only man to light her up, to really light her up, in the last four years would be the one man who was completely off-limits to her. A mark. Nothing more.
GD sex hormones. This was no time to be all hopped up on dopamine and serotonin and Liam Kearney’s mouth.
“Liam! Hey! Awesome party!”
The intrusion was perfectly timed, and AJ took a step back from temptation and sent a cursory glance at the bikini-clad girls beckoning from the lawn below them.
“Why are you hiding up there? Meet us in the pool!”
“Yeah. Come get wet with us!”
When AJ looked back at Liam, his gaze was still locked on her, and she ignored the zing of heat in her belly.
“It seems I’ve monopolized you for far too long. Your fan club is getting restless.” The rueful note in her voice wasn’t fully for show. “But it was nice to meet the man behind the legend. Thanks for giving me a reason to dress up and drink your bourbon.” She swallowed the final mouthful and pressed her empty glass into his left hand, ignoring the spike in her pulse when her fingers brushed his. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go freshen up.”
“It was nice meeting you, too.” A noticeable beat slipped by before he added, “Robin.”
Something about that pause made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Liam raised his hand, gesturing toward the house with her glass. “You’re looking for the first door on the left at the top of the stairs.”
The directions startled her. “What?”
“The bathroom,” he clarified, his voice easy though his gaze remained sharp. “You wanted to freshen up. That’s what you said, right?”
AJ’s smile was deliberately casual. “Yes. That’s exactly where I’m headed. Thank you.” She knew that, of course. She knew every inch of his sprawling estate, thanks to the blueprints she’d nicked from the city’s website.
Not that she couldn’t have gotten them through regular channels...but why wait for the mind-numbingly slow wheels of bureaucracy to turn when you could just make the internet your bitch? Instead of filling out forms and weeks of waiting, she already knew where the bathroom was, and where his bedroom was, and where the panic room in the back of his bedroom closet that he’d reconfigured into a server room was.
“It’s been entirely my pleasure, I assure you.”
Thanks to emphasis, what might have been a bland pleasantry from anyone else held some heat. Enough to make AJ wish their night could have ended differently.
Ignoring all her good sense, she tightened her grip on her purse and stepped close enough that her breasts pressed against his chest. “Well, if this is your idea of pleasure, it’s probably good we stopped now.” AJ leaned in, then leaned in a little more, until her lips brushed his ear. “My definition might have killed you.”
She pulled back in time to see Liam’s mouth tip up at the corner. “It sounds like it would have been a hell of a way to go.”
God, it had been forever since she’d felt this...alive. Maybe a little walk on the wild side was exactly what she’d needed. “Oh, it would have been. I assure you.”
And with that, she left Liam on the balcony and headed into the house.
Playtime was over. She had work to do.

CHAPTER THREE (#u872f47ce-49ad-5575-8505-d58d75d2453f)
LIAM KEARNEY HATED being bored.
Sadly, it was becoming the status quo.
His personal life had devolved into a slideshow of inanely shallow parties, forgettably beautiful women and exceedingly nauseating sycophants. Sometimes he got the impression that he’d become the thing he hated most in the world...a black-card-carrying member of the entitled elite.
His mother.
Usually he could bury that irritating thought in work, because his professional life was interesting enough. At least it had been, until a month and a half ago.
That’s when Max Whitfield, his rival in the race for the next step in digital cryptocurrency, had grown a conscience and confessed to the world that someone had hacked him, so he was pushing back the release date of his SecurePay app until he’d gotten to the bottom of it. He wanted to make sure that the customers who trusted him with their business were getting the kind of superior product they associated with the Whitfield Industries name...or whatever PR bullshit his sister had spun for him.
All he’d heard in that press conference was that Max had folded and handed him the win. Liam had been planning on taking it anyway, of course, but it would have been so much more satisfying to do it in a fair fight.
He thought briefly of his past dealings with John Beckett, and his more recent dealings with the dead man’s son, Aidan. Max’s former father figure and former best friend, respectively. And he knew Max blamed him for the former part on both counts. Buying John’s code hadn’t been illegal per se, but Liam’s gut had told him the old drunk wasn’t totally on the level when he’d shown up, looking for a deal.
Not his finest hour, but Liam had been young, and hungry, and bent on proving himself to all comers. Passing on John’s raw genius and sending him back to Whitfield Industries because it was the sappy, good-guy “right thing to do” was not an option he’d entertained.
Then Beckett Senior wrapped his car around a tree, Beckett Junior had skipped town, and Max’s side of the rivalry had turned personal.
A tiny ember of guilt tried to flare, but Liam drowned it with a healthy swallow of bourbon. He couldn’t have known how things would turn out when he’d made that deal.
Still, Liam owed Max a fair fight, and he’d been looking forward to it, to putting the products each of them had developed to market in a cryptocurrency battle royale and see once and for all who came out on top.
Max’s software would be good—why have a rival if he didn’t have the chops to push you to be your best?—but it was no match for Cybercore’s hardware.
The Shield was a status symbol, one you could display on a watchband, a bracelet, a necklace or a belt. Max could only sell people the SecurePay app once, but The Shield came in seven different colors, a rotating selection of limited-edition prints, and a coordinating line of accessories.
And that was why Liam was going to wipe the floor with him.
Well, he would have.
Now that Max had temporarily dropped out of the game, Liam’s inevitable victory was hollow and unfulfilling.
He thrived on testing his mettle against a worthy opponent.
Liam stared contemplatively at the empty glass in his left hand. And speaking of worthy opponents...
He wasn’t bored anymore.
Most definitely a party crasher...but how she’d done it was what intrigued him most. This was an exclusive bash he was throwing.
He knew she hadn’t breached the perimeter. Not only couldn’t she have scaled the wall in that dress—God, that dress—and those heels, but his new electronic fence tech was unbeatable...which was why the government was about to make him even wealthier than he already was.
That meant she had not just duped a bar code, which would have flagged her for using someone else’s invitation, but created a new one that let her through the gates under the alias Robin Capucha, without registering as an extra person and tripping the maximum guest number warning, either.
The cockiness of casually breaching his top-notch security by giving Robin Hood a Spanish flair was...ballsy. And intriguing. And pretty fucking hot.
Someone below called his name, but he pretended not to hear as he stepped back into his decoy office—he kept all the really good tech downstairs—and abandoned the glasses on the desk. Then he pulled his phone from his jacket to check the progress on the facial recognition he was running off the security footage from the front gate, where all arriving guests had to check in. No match on her so far.
Liam tapped a finger against the edge of his phone. “What are you up to?”
As if in answer, his phone buzzed again. This time, he answered it.
“Dom. What have you got?”
“Not sure. All the cameras in your office are now pointed at the ceiling, and I can’t get them back online.”
Good to know he could still outsmart his employees. “That was me.”
“I knew it!” His voice got muffled, as though he was covering the mouthpiece. “I told you it was Liam,” he gloated, and then his words were back to full strength. “I told Mina it was you. She and I have a hundred bucks riding on who solves your office cam puzzle first.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, we just had a camera go out. Nothing but static in the library. Nobody on the feed prior to, so either it’s busted, someone hit it remotely or you’ve got a tech-savvy ghost.”
Aha.
The library. It housed a built-in safe behind a false picture frame, like something out of a movie. He’d considered having it removed during the last set of renos, but there was something antiquated about it that appealed to him. And it was a smart hit—a room with a secret was a target that would draw focus.
“Wanted to let you know, but you’re a hard man to get ahold of tonight.”
Liam’s focus drifted to the tumbler on his desk. There was a faint imprint of her lips on the glass, the same deep pink as her lipstick. “I was busy working out a little puzzle of my own.”
Dom laughed. “Yeah, I know what you were busy with. I’m the one who told you ‘the puzzle’ was nosing around your office in the first place, remember? You want me to dispatch some muscle to the book room to investigate?”
“In a minute. First, check the other feeds for looping. Start with the west stairs to the basement and the hallway outside the master bedroom. Work out from there.”
“There’s no way anyone pulled something as bush-league as a loop with Mina and I on the—Jesus H. Christ in a porno, that’s a bingo on the hallway cam. Goddamn, this is clean. It didn’t trigger any of the fail-safes.”
Liam’s blood picked up, like a predator who’d just scented his prey.
Definitely not bored.
“Send someone to the library anyway. Low priority. Tell security not to cause a scene. And get the cameras back online. I’ll take care of the bedroom myself.”
Liam stowed his phone away, helpless against his own smirk of satisfaction as he hit the button that would close the window to the balcony. It had been a long time since anyone had gotten under his skin like she did. And longer still since anyone had gotten the drop on him.
Gorgeous and brilliant was a hell of a combination.
Liam savored the rest of his bourbon, contemplating the upcoming battle of wits, giving his sexy little interloper a few minutes’ head start on whatever she had planned.
Then he pulled the doors to the office closed behind him and returned to the party, placating attention-seekers with a distracted smile and nod as he headed toward the stairs that led to his bedroom.

CHAPTER FOUR (#u872f47ce-49ad-5575-8505-d58d75d2453f)
LIAM KEARNEY HAD all the best toys.
A self-satisfied smile curved her lips as the light on the electronic trip wire went dead. With the final booby trap dispatched, AJ shoved her phone back in her purse and slipped into the master suite. Safer to leave the light off, since the giant floor-to-ceiling window across from his bed looked out over the party. All she needed was one nosy guest to report her skulking around and she’d be sunk.
Focus, she warned herself. Quick. Efficient. Eyes on the prize.
No time to indulge in perverted thoughts about his ginormous bed or how good he might look in it. Or on the floor. Or up against the dresser.
This was a onetime deal. She’d known that when she’d hacked her invitation. She’d been all over the security feed since the second she’d stepped onto Liam’s property. A second chance at this was never part of the plan.
Might as well hit the main server before she disappeared for good. Right?
You don’t owe him anything, she reminded herself sternly, when the answer to her previous question wasn’t a resounding yes. He was the enemy. The asshole who’d hacked Max.
And yeah, he was sexy as sin, but their association had the same approximate expiration date as nonrefrigerated dairy in the California sun.
Swallowing her unease, AJ hurried over to the dark mahogany closet, wishing she could have pulled this job in her Doc Martens instead of stilettos. Props to all the women in action movies who kicked ass in heels on the reg. It wasn’t easy.
The doors slid out of the way as she approached—the man had a damn spaceship for a closet—revealing an impressive square-footage of meticulously arranged suits, shirts and ties, but she didn’t waste time admiring the dark-to-light color coding. Instead, she walked directly to the rows and rows of shoes that lined the wall at the back of the room.
According to the blueprints, the entrance to the panic room should be behind them. AJ ran a hand along the side of the shelves until her fingers caught on a lever.
“Gotcha.”
She pressed it, and with a click, one side of shelving came loose from the wall so she could pull it open like a door. But when AJ looked behind it, she encountered the one thing that she hadn’t expected from a tech god...
Uh oh.
It was freakin’ brilliant, no doubt about it, but there was no way she was getting past the vault door. Three key locks that seemed to be on separate timers, a good old-fashioned combination lock and a manual keypad.
She was a hacker, not an old-timey bank robber.
Touché, she thought with a mental salute to the man who’d won this round. Looked like she wouldn’t be using any more of the cool tech she’d loaded on her phone after all.
Good thing she’d gone after Liam’s phone when she’d had the chance, or tonight would have been a total bust.
The memory of their dangerous flirtation flooded her body with heat.
Okay, maybe not a total bust. At least she had a fun new fantasy to exploit next time she gave her vibrator a workout. Like the second she got home.
AJ pushed the shoe shelf until it clicked into place and hurried back into the bedroom, relieved when the closet door sensed her departure and whooshed shut behind her. She’d just stepped into the hallway when her phone gave two sharp pulses—the signal that someone had tripped the innocuous little motion detector she’d stuck to the baseboard in the hallway to warn her if anyone was headed her way.
Her heart rate jacked into the danger zone.
Shit.
She’d pushed it coming up here in the first place, she realized as she pulled the door shut behind her as quietly as she could, all the while trying to one-handedly unclasp her purse.
Should have gotten the fuck out when I had the chance.
AJ pulled out her phone. She needed to rearm Liam’s fancy electronic trip wire, or she was as good as caught. He was a details man, and a deactivated alarm was the sort of detail that wouldn’t go unnoticed.
She cursed her impetuousness—always pushing for one more thing, one more score. It was sloppy.
And sloppy gets you caught.
Her thumbs flew over the screen, disconnecting the signal jam she’d deployed to bypass it in the first place. A quick glance at the alarm showed it was still off-line. What the hell?
“Come on,” she breathed, entering the start-up code again.
Still nothing.
Her eyes darted down the hall. Still clear, but not for long.
Think like the tech god. Liam Kearney was smart. Meticulous. Known for his rotating codes and his attention to detail...
Of course! The sequence changed with each restart.
It was ingenious. A discreet little counter that let him know how many reboots the alarm had been through. AJ didn’t have time to be too impressed, though. Whoever was headed her way would be arriving momentarily.
She made the necessary changes to her approach, and within seconds, the little green light on the trip wire flicked on. AJ jammed her phone back into her purse and turned around just as a figure appeared at the end of the hallway.
* * *
Liam braced a shoulder against the wall and allowed himself a moment to watch her as she stood, unaware of his presence, staring thoughtfully at the artwork in the hallway outside his bedroom.
Her profile was beautiful—the slope of her nose, the softness of her lips, the curve of her neck. Her raven curls brushed her shoulder as she tipped her head to the side, engrossed in the painting, as though he’d come upon her in an art gallery instead of sneaking through his house.
“Find what you’re looking for?”
Her gaze didn’t waver from the painting, but a slight smile touched her mouth. It was almost as though she was expecting him. She pointed up at the canvas. “Would have put my money on you being more of a dogs-playing-poker-on-black-velvet man.”
“I lock up the really expensive stuff during parties.” He pushed away from the wall and joined her beside the Pollock. “I thought you might like a tour, but I see you’re already taking one.”
She crossed her arms, drawing his eyes to the way it pushed up her cleavage. “Just curious,” she averred. “I mean, if the bathroom’s that nice, what riches must the rest of the house conceal?”
Her voice was full of sarcastic wonder, and yet again, her impertinence made him stifle a grin.
“Well, there’s no safe hidden behind this painting, if that’s your game.”
She cut him a measuring glance at his opaque reference to the library, and Liam watched, fascinated as the suspicious edge that had marked all their interactions thus far relaxed slightly. Like something had changed between them. “Foiled again.”
“In that case, I’ll call off the cops.” Liam pulled his phone from his pocket and keyed in the current iteration of the rotating eight-digit master password that would unlock the room behind them before stowing it away.
“As for the riches concealed behind these doors, only one way to find out.”
She glanced behind her, shrugging one bare shoulder in a show of nonchalance before she turned and pushed open the double doors to reveal his bedroom suite. If she was impressed by the room, or the glass wall that looked out over the grounds, she didn’t show it.
Despite her nonchalance, his body revved as she stepped over the threshold, wandering deeper inside. At some point after his first million, sex had become an inevitable conclusion. Something easily acquired when and if he wanted it, and much to the disgust of his sixteen-year-old self’s fantasies, less exciting for it.
The thread of danger in this interaction, his inability to decipher whether he was the hunter or the prey, had him on edge, primed for action. He’d forgotten how fucking good sexual tension could be.
She clasped her hands behind her back as she explored, taking in her surroundings. “It’s not what I expected.”
Liam pushed the doors shut, and the click was loud in the sudden silence as the soundproofing kicked in, blocking out the ambient party chatter and the throbbing bass line of the DJ. “What did you expect?”
“Based on your reputation as a jaded international party boy?” She glanced over her shoulder, and her mocking smile almost undid him. “Manacles on the headboard, some kind of swing in the corner.”
Liam slid his hands in his pockets. He wanted her. Against all reason and his better judgment, he wanted her. “I don’t need chains to keep a woman in my bed.”
“You’re awfully confident.” She turned back to the window, staring down at the party below.
She was a fascinating study in contrasts. Tough, but vulnerable. Smart, but impetuous. Gorgeous, but oddly reticent to exploit the hell out of that.
“Just hopeful. And for the record, I’m not opposed to chains. I’m just a strong proponent of mutual reciprocity.”
“That’s encouraging. Although I will admit, I didn’t take you for a literal exhibitionist.” She gestured toward the window, where a web of party lanterns and the submersible spotlights in the fountains lit the way for the dozens of guests still milling about on the sprawling grounds.
She pressed a hand to the window, and something flared in her eyes, something dark and exciting. He watched in fascination as she pushed it down, resurrecting her cool, mocking facade. “I thought you rich guys tended to show off your penises the old-fashioned way—fancy cars and sexual conquests.”
Jesus.
He needed to get his hands on her, his mouth on her.
“Don’t let my tech company fool you. I’m very old-fashioned, with a garage full of penis metaphors to prove it. As for sexual conquests,” he said softly, letting the words hang there for a moment, “don’t tell me this is where your courage deserts you.”
She looked over as he joined her beside the window. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
The declaration was said simply, as though she thought he hadn’t expected her to take him up on his dare to explore this heat arcing between them. But that was only because she didn’t realize how much credit he already gave her. And he didn’t even know her real name yet.
“Not even me?”
“Why would I be afraid of you?”
He stepped closer, and she shivered, but true to her word, it wasn’t because of fear.
Liam reached out and ran the pad of his thumb down her bare arm, from shoulder to wrist. Her pulse fluttered beneath her skin. “Because usually when people want each other this badly, someone ends up getting burned.”
She leaned into him, so close that her lips brushed his jaw. Her hand drifted down his chest...lower. Lower still. “I like playing with fire.” His knees almost buckled when she stroked the length of him through his pants.
With a quick squeeze, she unhanded him and began dispatching the buttons on his vest with quick efficiency. “Also, for the record,” she informed him, before unknotting his tie, “I’m more of an arsonist than a nurse.” She reached up and pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders. “So you’re probably going to want to be careful.”
Careful was the last thing he felt like being with her. He wanted whatever this was, pulsing between them, begging to be let loose.
He swallowed thickly as she slipped his jacket down his arms. “I’m going to need—”
“Your wallet?” she asked, holding it up as the expensive Italian wool blazer hit the ground.
Liam popped the button at his collar. “Impressive sleight of hand.”
She pulled the condom he kept inside free and tossed his leather billfold onto his jacket.
“You’re easy to please.” She tracked his progress as he worked his way down the placket of his shirt, baring his chest to her gaze. “I haven’t even gotten started with my hands yet.”
She pushed him back against the window and set to work on his belt, the button on his pants. The metal hum of his zipper filled the room, filled his head. His breath came fast, and he swore as her hand closed around his erection, freeing him from his boxer-briefs. He wanted her so fucking badly he could barely stand it.
She licked her lips as she circled her thumb, spreading pre-come over his tip. Liam closed his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him.
Fuck yes.
The sound of the condom wrapper ratcheted up his need.
He opened his eyes so he could watch, so his brain could sync the pleasure of her touch with the visual of her hand on his cock.
“Let’s move this to the bed.” His voice was strained as she slid her hand back up his length.
“Why would we do that?”
“Because I want to taste you. Pleasure you with my mouth until you beg me to bury myself inside you so you can come that way, too.”
Her hand stopped its methodical stroking, and he used the slight reprieve to take a full breath.
“Look, I’m sure you’re a generous and talented lover and the champagne and lingerie crowd goes gaga for your smooth promises and high-thread-count sheets, but in case it wasn’t clear, I’m not here for declarations and foreplay. I don’t want to make love. I want you to fuck me.”
Jesus Christ. If his cock hadn’t already been so hard it hurt, that would have gotten him the rest of the way. “Are you—”
“I’m sure.” She grabbed the sides of his open shirt and leaned up to cut him off with her mouth, not kissing him, but catching his bottom lip between her teeth and giving it a sharp tug. When she let go, he soothed the slight sting with his tongue. “You talk too much, you know that?”
“Can’t say I’ve ever had any complaints.” Liam let himself touch her, resting his hands on the warm curve of her hips. His fingers flexed, as though seeking the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric in their way. If he didn’t get her naked and wrapped around him soon, he might lose his mind. “But now you’ve forced me to defend my honor.”

CHAPTER FIVE (#u872f47ce-49ad-5575-8505-d58d75d2453f)
AJ’S EYES WIDENED as he tightened his grip and spun her to face the window.
Something hot and sharp ran through her veins at the show of dominance.
“Put your hands on the glass.”
Yes.
Her breath left her on a shudder, fogging the window for a split second before it cleared.
This was exactly what she wanted. No hearts and flowers. Just fucking. Down and dirty. Simple. A mistake, maybe, but she was past caring. Her blood always ran hot during a job.
She placed her palms flat against the cool, smooth surface as instructed.
Liam stepped close, until the front of him was plastered against the back of her. He tugged her hips back, as though she wasn’t already aware of the hot, hard length of him pressing against her ass.
“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was a low rasp against her ear.
She wasn’t sure how she’d given herself away, how he knew this particular fantasy was one of her go-tos. All she knew was that her skin sparked with electric anticipation as she stared down at the unwitting partygoers.
“Does it turn you on to know that one of them could look up and see you pressed against the window, on display?”
The sound that escaped her throat was pure sex.
There was something about the risk of getting caught, of being seen, that made her body burn. It was the perfect combination—the pulse-pounding danger of hacking mixed up with the physical release of sex—a rush that AJ couldn’t help but chase.
“Spread your legs.”
She followed the orders, widening her stance slightly. Liam was tall, but with her heels, their bodies lined up almost perfectly. His breath caught, as though in agreement with her.
“Can you feel how badly I want you?”
AJ swallowed, unable to resist pressing her hips back against him as she nodded.
God. She was so wet, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. She hated to admit it, but Liam just might have the skills to back up his reputation.
He flattened his hands against her hips, tracing the curve down her thighs until the tips of his fingers reached the hem of her dress. It was a relatively short trip, all things considered, and AJ shivered as he fisted his hands in the material and his knuckles brushed the bare skin of her legs.
“Do you want me to pull your dress up and fuck you for them?”
It was like the tech god could read her programming, no training manual required. And so far, he was doing everything right.
“Yes.” She whimpered with pleasure as he dragged the material up her thighs inch by inch, until it was bunched around her waist.
He slid his big hand between her legs, tugging her panties out of the way. AJ almost lost it at the first stroke of his thumb on her clit, hips bucking as he caressed and teased but never granted her the relief she needed more than her next breath.
“You’re soaking wet for me.”
His voice had her on the edge, and suddenly it wasn’t the party outside she was looking at, but the reflection of their bodies in the glass. His hand between her legs, the bounce of her breasts as she pressed back against him.
He did something magical with his fingers that sent sparks shooting up her spine, and she gasped, her body arching with pleasure as the world went dark. It took her a moment to realize why and another to wrest her eyelids open.
“I want you so fucking badly.” Not just dirty talk now, as their eyes met in the window. A confession.
A truth she felt even through the reflection, because she wanted him, too.
Her head fell back against his shoulder. Liam pounced on her exposed throat, and the searing heat of his tongue on her skin amped up her pleasure.
He groaned as he slid his cock between her thighs, and she rocked back, desperate for contact, spiraling closer and closer toward climax, and he wasn’t even inside her yet.
“Do it.” It was an order. A plea.
“You’re not the one in control here.”
Judging by the harsh rasp of his breathing and the instinctive rocking of his hips, neither was he, so she let it slide.
And then, thank the sex gods, he was finally inside her, and she moaned as her body stretched to accommodate his impressive erection.
Good boy.
“Fuck.” His curse said it all.
Everything in her world narrowed to this—the scent of man and sex and want, and God, did she want.
Then Liam started to move for real.
And it was spectacular.
Combustion was too tame a description for what was happening between them. He wasn’t kidding about getting burned. Their bodies fit together like they were two pieces of a whole, built to fuck. And Liam was definitely doing his part.
He rolled his hips, setting up a rhythm that had her this close to purring, and her world narrowed to between her legs. Was sex always this good? Had it been so long that she’d just forgotten? Then he slowed his pace and pushed deep, and AJ knew she’d never have forgotten anything like this.
She braced herself against the window with her forearms, pushing back against him as he drove into her, powerless against the wet heat, the buildup of pleasure, the promise of the climax to end all climaxes.
Liam Kearney had mad skills.
She wanted this man, the scrape of his teeth on her neck, the shocking wet heat of his mouth on her skin. It was animalistic, the way she craved him, how much she needed what he was doing to her. His left palm slapped against the window for purchase, right above hers, and the tip of her middle finger touched the heel of his hand. In the heat of the moment, it struck AJ as oddly intimate.
“Christ,” he growled. “Once isn’t going to be enough, baby.”
Under normal circumstances, she might have taken issue with the endearment, but she couldn’t stand the idea of him calling her Robin right now, so she’d take baby all day and all night if it meant he’d keep making her feel this way.
“Your thighs are shaking. Do you want to come for me?”
Fuck yes.
And she was close, so damn close she could taste the imminent pleasure like candy on her tongue. As if he sensed it, Liam twined the fingers of his free hand in her hair, pulling tight enough to make her gasp. He pounced on her open mouth, the rough kiss timed perfectly with the plunge of his hips, and pleasure detonated through her, stealing her breath as he drove into her again and again before he shuddered against her, joining her in sweat-slicked paradise.
Holy shit.
AJ leaned her forehead against the cool glass, trying to catch her breath.
It had been way too long since she’d had her world rocked, that was for damn sure.
“Still think I talk too much?”
She bit her lip against the wayward smile trying to escape as she turned to face him, her shoulders resting against the window. He didn’t need any encouragement. “Only during the non-sex parts of our acquaintance.”
His answering grin stole her breath. Liam Kearney had one hell of a smile. It was a little disorienting when he weaponized it like that, and it threw her off. Otherwise she definitely would have moved before he braced his hands on the glass on either side of her head. At the very least, she would have turned her head when he leaned in and captured her lips in a slow, deep kiss that melted her, softening her knees to the point she had to grab on to his shoulders to keep from liquefying and sliding down the window.
When he finally pulled back, AJ’s chest constricted as their eyes met. The intimacy of the moment quaked through her, far more intense than anything that had preceded it. This time when her heartbeat picked up, it had an edge of panic to it. Her hands slipped off his shoulders, but he didn’t back up.
“Next time we do this, let’s make sure I’m not hosting a party I have to get back to.”
He was too close. People saw too much when they were this close.
“Yeah, you have shit for timing,” AJ agreed, ignoring the reference to next time. Because there was no next time for them. Hell, with every second that ticked by, she was more and more convinced there shouldn’t have been a this time.
“I’m going to shower.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder before he straightened up. “You’re welcome to join me.”
She shimmied her dress back down her thighs. “Yeah. I need a minute first. I don’t think I can walk yet.”
The compliment earned her a smug chuckle as he unhooked his cuff links with deft, economical movements that said he’d done the same thing countless times before. “If you promise not to take too long, I’ll save you a spot,” he teased.
That was the moment AJ realized just how very fucked she was.
Because she wanted to follow him.
In that moment, it didn’t matter that she’d risked everything she had getting into this party. If she didn’t get the hell out of the mansion that Cybercore built as soon as possible, this unsanctioned mission might end up harming Whitfield Industries more than it helped.
Liam Kearney was a kingpin of the tech industry. Her hacked invitation wouldn’t go unnoticed forever. He was too smart for that.
The sound of the shower flipping on drew her attention.
AJ pushed down the resurgence of lust and the even more inconvenient pang of...longing?
Finish the job, she reminded herself.
AJ grabbed her satin purse and headed for the bedroom door, keeping her eyes stubbornly forward as she passed his en suite. She paused only twice as she fled from his house, once to grab her motion sensor from the baseboard in the hallway, and the second time to shoot a quick text to her getaway man—a cabbie who’d jumped at the grand she’d offered to drive her to this shindig and wait until she was ready to bail. AJ pushed through the imposing front door and she was relieved to see the yellow car pull into view as she hurried down to the end of the massive driveway.
AJ slowed as she approached the heavy security presence. She’d been hoping that would have thinned out a bit once the revelry got underway. Keeping her head down, she tried to blend in with the trickle of guests who were mulling about near the big gate, smoking.

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