Taming Lily Page 10

  Nothing real.

  Everyone leaves me eventually. It’s been a pattern throughout my entire life. My mother killed herself because we weren’t enough for her. We didn’t make her happy. Daddy would rather work than deal with his daughters, leaving us to be raised by nannies. Grandma preferred Violet because she was a good girl or Rose because she was the pretty little sweet baby.

  And then there was me. There is me. No one likes me. Not really. My family tolerates me because they have to. And I took advantage of that. Expected them to always stand by me, to look the other way when I made yet another mistake. They were all good, so I was allowed to be bad, right? One black sheep in the family is allowed.

  That’s me. I could always count on them, if not for their support, at least for them to still talk to me despite everything I’ve done.

  But I don’t know how they’d respond to me now. If they knew I’d hacked into Pilar’s computer at work and found all of the dirty email between her and fucking Zachary Lawrence. My sister’s ex-boyfriend, the biggest creep on the planet. Violet finally kicked the cheating scumbag to the curb and Daddy sent him to travel around Fleur stores in Europe, training them on the latest projects.

  Getting him out of Violet’s—and supposedly Pilar’s—hair.

  But they still talk. Or at least, they did. I thought the email evidence was bad enough, but then I found something worse. Something so bad, it scared me. Sent me straight into a panic and made me run. Not before I drank a giant glass of wine for courage and then sent Pilar an email from her business account to her personal Gmail, letting her know I was on to her.

  I know what you’ve been up to …

  Kisses,

  Lily

  We talked that one time on the phone when she threatened me, but she’d only referenced the emails with Zachary the asshole. She never mentioned the other stuff.

  And neither did I.

  I want to call my father. I want to tell my sisters. But how? Will they believe me and want to help me? Or would they think I’m full of it again? Causing trouble again. I don’t even realize the tears are slipping down my face until I taste them when I lick my lips. A sob escapes me and I grab a pillow, pressing it down hard over my face as I scream into it. My voice is muffled, reflecting exactly how I feel.

  Muffled. The real me unseen. Unheard.

  Throwing the pillow to the floor with a huff, I climb out of bed and stalk to the bathroom, goose bumps covering my chilled naked skin because of the incessant air conditioning blowing through the rooms. I turn on the shower, twisting the knob to almost scalding hot before I hop in and let the water run over me, washing away my sins, my thoughts, my emotions.

  Until I am completely numb.

  chapter twelve

  Lily

  I FEEL AS GIDDY AS A SCHOOLGIRL—a saying I’ve heard before and always thought sounded stupid. But I’d never been that girl while in school, excited over boys who might like me. I went after what I wanted, no hesitation. I was brash. A brat. A complete rebel who couldn’t bother to give a shit most of the time since the boys all flocked to me.

  In my own head, I sound like a shit and that’s because I was. Nothing was a challenge. I think that’s why I took to hacking so quickly. It challenged me, forced me to think in a different way, filled me with the overwhelming need to figure something out. Who knew that it would be intricate code and not fashion or cosmetics? That hacking into someone else’s computer, system, whatever, was also breaking the law gave me an additional thrill. I’ve always been looking for a thrill.

  Still am.

  Right now, though, for once in my life, I’m giddy. Over a guy. My insides are fizzing with excitement as I enter the open-air lobby of the hotel. A warm tropical breeze flows over me, lifting my hair, and I glance over my shoulder, taking in the view of the ocean, the swaying palm trees, hearing the music playing over the speaker—all of it combined makes me feel like a real tourist.

  Not some crazy woman on the run.

  “Do you need some help, miss?”

  I stop short at the man who appears in front of me, clad in khaki-colored linen pants and a subtle Hawaiian print shirt, the standard uniform of the hotel resort employees. He’s young and handsome, with short, dark hair and flashing brown eyes, a pleasant smile on his face.

  I smile in return and shake my head. “Thank you, but I’m fine. I’m supposed to meet a friend in the lobby.”

  A knowing look crosses his face. “Ah, are you Lily?”

  I blink at him in surprise, wondering how he knew who I was. “Um, yes. I am.”

  He offers his arm. “Follow me. Your friend requested that I go in search of you. He’s waiting for you outside.”

  Taking the man’s arm, I let him guide me through the grand double doors that lead to the front of the hotel. I glance around the circular drive, watching as a group of people wearing jeans and sweaters and looking like they traveled a great distance unload from a shuttle van. A line of taxis sits on the other side of the drive, eager to take tourists wherever they need to go.

  But there’s no Max to be found anywhere.

  The hotel employee releases my arm and I turn to him. “I, uh, don’t see my friend anywhere …”

  He points behind me. “There he is. Have a good afternoon, miss.”

  I whip back around to find a shiny black Jeep parked in front of me, the engine idling, Max sitting in the driver’s seat and watching me with a smile on his face. The passenger-side window rolls down and he ducks his head to meet my gaze. “Wanna go for a ride?” His flirtatious, sexy tone sets a thousand butterflies alight in my stomach.

  “I was always told not to take rides from strangers,” I call to him, sending him an innocent look when he scowls at me.

  Max exits the car and comes around the back of the Jeep, his long-legged stride eating up the ground until he’s standing directly in front of me. Wearing a dark gray T-shirt and black cargo shorts, he smells fresh and clean, as if he just got out of the shower. I want to say something clever, something funny, but my throat has gone dry, all because he’s so close. My hands literally itch to touch him and my lips tingle, I want to feel his mouth on mine so bad.

  He grabs hold of my hands in both of his, as if he has to restrain himself and me so we don’t grab at each other like oversexed freaks. He leans in close, his mouth at my ear, his breath warm as it caresses my skin, making me tremble. “Considering I had my mouth on your pussy and made you come with my tongue only a few hours ago, I definitely wouldn’t classify us as strangers, princess,” he murmurs just before he softly kisses my cheek.

  Thank God he has a hold of me because my knees go weak at his blunt choice of words. “Max,” I breathe, unable to say anything else, my cheeks growing hot.

  With a grin he leads me to the Jeep and opens the passenger door, giving me a boost with his hand on my ass since the tires are oversized and the entire vehicle is lifted. A typical man car, something I would never consider driving, not that I have my driver’s license. When would I ever need it?

  “Where are we going?” I ask when he climbs back into the Jeep.

  He flashes me a mysterious smile and throws the vehicle into drive. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  “I hope I’m dressed all right.” I glance down at myself. I’m wearing a green tank top and white shorts, my skin golden from all the sun I’ve been getting.

  “You got a swimsuit on under there?” he asks as he makes a left onto the main road.

  “No.” I bite my lower lip, regretting that I didn’t put one on. What was I thinking? Maybe he’s going to take me to a secluded beach.

  “That’s too bad. Guess you’ll have to go swimming naked,” he suggests, that sexy Texan drawl back in his voice.

  “I’m sure you’d like that,” I say, my panties growing wet when he shoots me a hot look out of the corner of his eye.

  “I’d love it,” he agrees.

  We make idle small talk on the drive, commenting on the beauty of the
island, the fabulous views of the ocean, how much it must cost to live there. Max is not only easy on the eyes, but he’s also easy to talk to, a great conversationalist who knows how to fill a quiet moment without making it seem like a bunch of endless chatter.

  He’s confident behind the wheel and as I watch him drive, I become aroused. Everything he touches he does so with such command. His every movement is controlled and efficient. He doesn’t waste words or energy, and I can’t help but sit and watch in quiet admiration.

  The men I’ve been with in the past pale in comparison. I can’t even consider them as real men. Boys playing at being a grown-up is a more apt description.

  But Max? He’s all man. Mature and responsible and sexy, with just a touch of cocky self-assuredness I find incredibly attractive.

  “You’re quiet,” he accuses after a few minutes of silence. “Makes me think you’re scheming.”

  “Who, me?” The man is also incredibly perceptive. Not that I’m necessarily scheming, but I have been known to do just that more often than not.

  “Yes, you.” He sends me a look. “Mad that I won’t tell you where we’re going?”

  “I figure you’re taking me to some remote tropical rain forest or something along those lines,” I tease him. We keep climbing and climbing, the road becoming narrower, the view more and more beautiful the higher we go.

  “You’re not too far off the mark,” he says as he slows down and turns left, onto what looks like a private and rarely used road. “Hold on to the ‘oh shit’ handle, princess. The ride’s about to get bumpy.”

  I do as he asks, reaching up to grab the handle that’s right above the door, a little squeal escaping me when we go over a particularly large bump. He stops the vehicle and hits a button, switching it into four-wheel drive. Shooting me a wicked grin, he lets out a whoop like he’s about to ride a bull out into the center of a rodeo ring and presses hard on the gas, sending the Jeep flying down the narrow, bumpy road and making me scream.

  Never in my life have I experienced a ride like this one and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating, all at once. The road stretches along the side of a lush green mountain, and one wrong move or turn of the steering wheel will send us flying over the edge of a cliff and straight into what I can only assume is a canyon. I grip the handle above my head with both hands, my butt literally lifting away from the seat with every bump and rut he drives across. Max is laughing, I’m screaming and laughing at the same time, and I close my eyes when I feel the back wheels scramble to grip the road when he makes an extra-sharp turn.

  I’ve never been the praying sort, but this experience is making me whisper all sorts of promises to God as long as we make it out of here in one piece.

  When he finally brings the Jeep to a full stop, he murmurs, “Open your eyes, princess.”

  Slowly I open them, all the air escaping my lungs when I see what’s in front of us. A view of the ocean unlike anything I’ve witnessed before. Nothing but blue skies dotted with white, puffy clouds and the glittering Pacific spread out before us.

  “What do you think?”

  I don’t take my eyes off the ocean. It’s as if we’re hanging right on the edge of the earth—which we might be for all I know. “It’s beautiful,” I murmur. “How did you know about this place?”

  “I asked around, talked to some locals.” He touches me and I turn to look at him, pressing my lips together when he runs his index finger down the length of my arm. “Come on, I have more to show you.”

  He hops out of the Jeep before I can say another word, rounding the vehicle and opening the door for me like a gentleman. I take his offered hand and exit the Jeep, letting him escort me along the gravelly dirt road until we find a rough path that leads straight down the cliff.

  “Uh, are we really going to try and walk that?” I ask cautiously, tugging on his hand to make him stop.

  He turns to look at me, his brows lowered. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

  I hold out my foot toward him, my sandal dangling away from my heel. “I’m in flip-flops.”

  Max laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll pick you up and carry you the rest of the way if you can’t handle it.”

  “Oh, I can handle it.” I lift my chin, not one to back down from a challenge.

  And neither is he. His eyes sparkle as he looks me up and down, probably silently mocking my choice of pristine white shorts for a trek through the Hawaiian jungle. How was I supposed to know what he had planned for us? “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

  The problem is that after a while, I really can’t handle it. At least, my shoes can’t. They slip and skid over the steep, rocky terrain and a couple of times, I lose an entire shoe, the flip-flop flying down the trail, rescued by my watcher. Twice I stumble, thankful Max is directly in front of me so I can brace my fall by gripping his solid back or tugging on his shirt. The path curves sharply, going deeper and deeper into the lush, thick trees and bushes, and I hear things move among the branches, see birds flying away with squawks of surprise when we come upon them.

  I just know there are unknown critters everywhere, studying us. I hope there aren’t snakes, or other creatures with poisonous fangs. God, what if a bird gets pissed off and attacks our heads? Does that sort of thing actually happen?

  “I can practically smell your fear, princess. Don’t worry, nothing’s going to get you,” he says teasingly.

  I glare at his back. He has a really nice back, too, broad and strong, the skin smooth and warm. I hope he takes his shirt off soon. “What about snakes?”

  “From what I’ve learned, there are no snakes native to the Hawaiian Islands,” he answers.

  I follow after him for a bit, pondering what he said. “What about snakes that were brought here?”

  “Yeah, there are probably a few of those.”

  Max turns when he realizes I’m not following him, resting his hands on his hips as he squints up at me. He’s not wearing sunglasses and the sun shines right in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “What if there really are snakes on this trail?” I ask him.

  “I already told you there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “But … snakes.” I throw my hands up into the air, not sure I can explain to him how much they scare me without sounding like a complete loser.

  “Are you telling me you’re afraid of snakes? A badass like yourself?” He raises his brows in question.

  “I am so not a badass.” I roll my eyes.

  “You have to admit, you kind of are.”

  I shake my head, pleased that he thinks I am. “You’re the one who calls me ‘princess.’ ”

  “That’s because you’re pretty as a princess.” He starts to approach, my gaze dropping to his legs as he makes the trek back up the steep incline, his calf muscles straining as he walks. Since when are calf muscles so sexy? I sort of want to fan myself just staring at them. “And you’re also feisty. Like a badass princess.”

  I start to laugh as he stops in front of me, his hands going to my waist, his fingers pressing into my skin. “You want me to keep all the snakes away, baby girl?”

  His words, the tone of his voice, the way his fingers slip beneath the hem of my tank top and touch my bare skin, send me reeling. “I really, really hate snakes. I can’t stress it enough.”

  “I’ll save you.” He releases his hold on me and turns around, bending forward the slightest bit and holding his arms out away from his body. “Hop on.”

  “What?” I frown, wondering what he’s getting at.

  “Hop on my back. I’ll give you a piggyback ride.” He waves his hands at me. “Come on.”

  “But … I’m kinda heavy.” No way can I jump on his back on this steep trail. I could knock him forward and both of us would go stumbling down the freaking mountain.

  He glances at me from over his shoulder. “You weigh nothing. I had you on top of me last night, remember? I think I can handle you.”

  My cheeks warm at the memor
ies of last night. Of how I rode him hard, his hands all over my breasts, gripping my hips as I bounced up and down on his cock.

  “Now stop blushing and hop on,” he teases.

  Sticking my tongue out at him, I take a few backward steps so I can get a running start. I launch myself toward him, jumping on top of his back and gripping hold of his shoulders as he grabs me behind my knees. He holds me on top of him and with a low grunt readjusts me, my arms sliding around his neck, my legs wrapping around his middle so my entire body is clinging to his back.

  “You won’t drop me, will you?” I ask, gripping his neck tight.

  “As long as you promise not to strangle me,” he says, making a little noise like I’m cutting off his circulation.

  I start to laugh, relaxing my hold on him. “Sorry. No one’s really carried me like this before.”

  He starts to walk, acting like my weight slung on his back doesn’t affect him at all, not one huff or puff escaping him. “No one? Not even your dad?”

  “Especially not my dad.” The silence that follows after my snarky remark is almost deafening. “He wasn’t the hands-on sort.”

  “Gotcha.” He’s quiet for a moment longer. “Not even with a high school boyfriend, huh?”

  “We never messed around or played any sorts of games like … this.” Everything was much more sophisticated and grown-up where I come from. In high school my friends and I drank the finest liquor money could buy since we pilfered it from our parents’ locked liquor cabinets. We bought the most expensive cocaine or weed because usually one of us had connections to a top-of-the-line dealer.

  No searching the dirty streets for a dime bag for us private school girls and boys, no way.

  “I’m sure you played other games, right?”

  “Sure.” I don’t want to go into detail. I really don’t want to share my past with him. I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. I was a total spoiled bitch who demanded certain things and … always got them.