Page 74 of Beautiful Enemy

I freeze with my drink halfway to my lips, then lower it again.

“Seriously?” Elle screeches, loud enough to wake whatever bones have settled at the bottom of the ocean beneath us. “He’s smart, he’s rich, he’s the kind of gorgeous that only gets better with age… though I read men reach their sexual peak in their twenties.”

She looks to Annie for corroboration, and our friend lifts her hands, surrendering.

“If Tyler gets any better, I might not survive.”

I roll my eyes as Elle laughs and says, “Wait. How old is Harrison?”

They both pull out their phones before I can answer.

“He’s thirty-five,” Elle declares loudly.

“Thirty-five what?” a familiar British voice demands from behind me.

I swallow, shifting on my lounger to stare up at the man in shorts and a linen shirt, the top two buttons open.

“Nothing.” It’s the most innocent voice I can manage, and it’s terrible.

“How old you are,” Elle, the traitor, supplies. “Have you read that men’s sexual performance declines after their twenties?”

We’re joined by Tyler, who sinks onto Annie’s lounger and pulls her against him. Beck drops onto Elle’s, while Ash’s athletic gait carries him to the edge of the boat, where he leans against the railing.

“Patently false,” Harrison replies. “Men in their twenties have physical stamina but no subtlety. Women are intellectual creatures. You need mental stamina to please one.”

God, his mouth is beautiful. I want to trace it with my finger.

Then shove it between my thighs.

I take another sip of my drink, and the pleasant buzzing feeling intensifies.

We keep drinking and talking. Tyler shares stories from his tour while Beck presses Ash on his workout routine. Annie talks about pregnancy surprises and their plans to settle in LA once the baby arrives. Even Elle weighs in with cringe-worthy moments from a comedy competition she just finished.

It’s fun, until eventually everyone heads to bed.

“I think I’m drunk,” I mumble as strong arms carry me down the stairs.

“Indeed,” the person carrying me agrees, the word vibrating through his body and mine.

I scrunch up my nose. “What language are you even speaking?”

“That would be English.”

“That wood bee ingleesh,” I parrot.

I’m deposited on a soft surface, and I sigh as I force my eyes open.

Harrison’s over me, his shirt unbuttoned enough I can see the edge of his scars. His hair is sticking up, his expression amused and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen it.

I’m so enchanted that it takes a moment for me to notice Harrison pull away.

I grab for his arms. “Where are you going?”

“To bed. You’re drunk.”

I scramble forward onto my knees, a posture I’m sure looks as sexy as it feels. “And if I wasn’t? What happened to the big, bad billionaire? The legendary ladies’ man?”

He studies me for a moment before his lips brush across my cheek. “Happy birthday.”

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