The interior of the Rolls-Royce felt like a vacuum, sealing Liam away from the grit of the sidewalk and his way back to Tasha waiting for him in his apartment.
Elena was a weight on his lap, her silk blouse cool against his skin while her body heat radiated through her leather skirt.
"What are you doing, Elena?" Liam asked, his voice strained.
He tried to keep his focus on the problem at hand, the family war, danger, but it was hard to think when her fingers were tracing the lines of his chest through his shirt.
She tilted her head, a lock of wavy brown hair brushing his cheek. "Isn't it obvious?" Her voice was a low purr.
"I'm not in the mood for this," Liam gritted out, though his pulse was betraying him, thumping visibly in his neck. "I need your help. Real help. Not... this."
Elena didn't pull away.
