Page 18 of Aim Assist

I swear, if they hired some dumbass who's never gamed a day in their life to coordinate all of this…

A valet? bellhop? person?—I have no idea what they're called—in a sharp red suit edged in gold (of course) opens the passenger door. Lucky barks with excitement and bounds out onto the cobblestone drive, nearly tangling her leash around his legs.

Fancy.

So fancy.

"Welcome to La Reina Del Mar, miss. Allow me to assist you with your bags."

The young man expertly wrangles Lucky's leash and passes it over with an amused smile. My damn dog tries to follow him, ignoring the pull of the leash.

She's trained. I swear she is. I work with dogs for a living.

I'm pretty sure she's trying to identify as Milo, who's sweet, but stupider than a bag of rocks.

"Lucky, here. Sit."

She ignores me.

Liam chuckles, coming around the side of the Tesla. I wasn't expecting him to come in with me.

Lucky immediately darts over to paw at his pants legs. Liam's suit looks much nicer than the bellboy/valet/greeter/person-who-does-things grabbing my luggage out of the trunk.

My magenta-fuchsia suitcases are stacked onto a gleaming brass luggage cart, and when I protest, the bellhop, whose nametag says Adam, assures me that this is his job.

I wonder how much cash is in my purse. I have a feeling I'm going to need to pull some out at a nearby ATM. It just feels like I'm supposed to be tipping everyone.

Inside, Liam strides ahead to the front desk, his broad shoulders filling out his tailored suit in a way that draws the eye.

For the first time, I have a little doubt. There's no way he's only a driver, right? That suit looks really nice. And the car's a Tesla. Who has a driver with a Tesla?

Especially to pick up someone who streams video games where she blows off heads for a living?

But I don't voice the questions in my head, because after a quick discussion, we're on our way to an elevator. Adam is already gone. I guess they take a separate elevator with all their guests' belongings.

I feel a little naked without my brightly colored suitcases.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I step inside, Lucky squirming in my arms as more people pile in behind us. Liam moves closer, his broad shoulders blocking the crush of bodies.

"You're on the twelfth floor." His deep voice rumbles near my ear, sending all kinds of electric quivers to various, sensitive parts of my body.

"Oh. Okay." My voice comes out breathier than I intend. Shit. My body is out of control and needs a power off button.

Liam reaches past me to press the button, caging me against the wall with his arms. I inhale sharply, catching a hint of his cologne. It's that crisp, clean scent again. Like laundry, with a hint of some sort of delicious, lickable spice.

Mmm.

Liam pushes the buttons other passengers ask for, and every time his arm brushes against me, I want to die over how much heat is pooling between my legs.

Not a single thing he's doing is sexual, and yet my body's over here trying to crawl right into his pants.

Lucky yips and I clutch her tighter, grateful for the distraction. The doors slide shut and the elevator lurches upward. Liam doesn't move away. If anything, he leans in closer, his chest brushing my shoulder.

Fuck. I'm doomed.

My heart hammers in rhythm with the arousal snuggling deep into my nether region, purring an invitation his way.

I should get some distance between us, but I can't. We're stuck in a crowded elevator. He's being a gentleman, and I'm a slut who wants to jump his bones.

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