Taming Lily Page 25

  Fuck, just thinking that makes me realize I’m scared, too. Scared of Lily, scared of what we could have between us. But my need for Lily overrides the fear. I don’t want to be apart from her, ever. I’ve been contemplating asking her to work with me, work for my company. Her tech skills could come in handy. She would be an incredible asset. But would she want to?

  I haven’t a clue. And right now isn’t the time to ask her. I’m already asking for too much.

  She studies me, her expression solemn. “I want to trust you.”

  “I want to earn your trust,” I agree readily.

  “I don’t like being nervous around you. Feeling unsure.” She bites her lip and I finally give in, swooping toward her and pressing my mouth to hers in a too short kiss. The brief taste of her plump lips isn’t close to being enough.

  “What was that for?” she asks when I pull away.

  “Because I can’t resist you.” I shake my head, praying I don’t mess this up. “I’ve tried. I told myself we wouldn’t work. I half convinced myself you were just a job, but really, I never believed it. I liked you too damn much. I swear it’s like I’m fucking addicted to you.”

  Her eyes flare with arousal but she says nothing.

  “Fate’s thrown us together,” I continue. “There’s a reason for that, princess.”

  She cracks a smile. “I didn’t take you for a believer in fate, cowboy.”

  I chuckle, pleased that she used her nickname for me. “I’m usually not, but when it comes to you, I can change my ways.”

  Her smile fades and her eyes light with heat. “Take me to bed, Max.”

  chapter twenty-eight

  Lily

  MAYBE I SHOULDN’T have asked Max to take me to bed, but I couldn’t help myself. Especially when he said I was worth changing his ways for. Everything within me melted at his words, at the look in his eyes, at the quick kiss he stole while we sat on his couch, as though he couldn’t resist me.

  And he said he couldn’t resist me. I can relate. I feel the same way. Having him in front of me, looking good enough to eat, saying all the right things, his expression open and honest, I realized I’d rather enjoy the fall than worry about the risk.

  That’s my usual mode of operation, but not when it comes to love. I’ll fling myself off a cliff for just about anything but a relationship with a man. My heart is fragile. My spirit … broken.

  But with Max, I want to fly and damn the consequences of where I land. After what he did for me today, for the last few days, he’s all I want.

  All I need.

  He stands, offers me his hand, and I take it, neither of us saying a word. We leave the living room, start to walk down the short hallway toward his bedroom, but then he’s yanking me into his arms, his mouth at my neck, his hand sliding over my ass and pulling me into him. I can feel his arousal, thick and insistent beneath the zipper of his pants, and I want to touch him there, but I don’t. With a sigh I sink against him, looping my arms around his neck, my hands buried in his hair as he licks and nips at my throat. I lean against the wall and toss my head back with a moan, enjoying the way his mouth travels all over my skin, his breath hot, his hands insistent.

  “I’ve thought of you like this since we came back from Hawaii,” he admits in this low, rumbly whisper that sets my nerve endings on fire.

  “Same,” I confess, my brain so scrambled by his touch I can hardly speak. Despite everything he did to me and how angry I was, he always lingered in the back of my mind. Driving me crazy with wanting him and frustrated because I was supposed to hate him.

  “At night I’d lie in bed alone and jerk off to thoughts of you. Those memories we made in Maui.” A shiver steals over me at his admission. His mouth is level with mine, and he’s murmuring against my lips as he stares deep into my eyes. “The way you sucked my cock so hard I came in your mouth. The taste of your pussy, how easy I could make you come, make you scream. How good it felt, my cock buried inside you, fucking you.”

  I shudder at his words. God, he says the best things. So blunt, so dirty. I love it. “Aren’t we wasting time talking when we could be in your bed doing?” I ask.

  He smiles, the sight of it stealing my breath, hurting my heart. He’s so gorgeous, so sexy, and all mine. I disentangle myself from his grip and start for his bedroom but not before he crowds in behind me, his hands on my waist, his mouth at my neck. “Max,” I chastise and I feel him smile against my neck, his arms sliding around me completely so he squeezes me close.

  “What, princess? Am I too much of a distraction?” He splays his hands across my stomach, his fingers brushing my breasts, and I bite back the moan that wants to escape.

  His touch feels so good, but God, I’m still so unsure …

  “You make me nervous,” I admit.

  “Why?” He pushes my hair away from my nape to rain kisses there, making me shiver harder. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “Maybe not physically,” I say, wincing the moment the words pass my lips.

  Damn it. That was something I didn’t necessarily want to admit, though he has to know how I feel, how afraid I am to let him get close.

  Max freezes for a moment, his mouth still pressed against my neck, his hands spanning my stomach. I stiffen as well, afraid of what he might say, worried that he’ll walk away from me and never once look back.

  I’m laying everything on the line here tonight and so is he. I’m normally a risk taker. Not too long ago I would take chances with my life every single day. Acting like a fool with various men, drinking, partying, traveling the world, never caring who I hurt, how my actions might affect another person. I was careless. Stupid. Yet this moment, this night with Max, feels like the biggest risk of all.

  And if he pushes me away, I’ll be devastated.

  Slowly he turns me within his embrace so my back is pressed against the wall, his hands resting at my waist. I stare up at him, shifting my position so my hips thrust out and I brush against his front. I can feel his erection beneath his pants and I want to touch him. Stroke him there.

  But I wait for him to make the first move.

  “Princess.” He removes one hand from my waist and rests it on the wall beside my head, caging me in. “I’m stepping into uncharted territory here, but I’m going to do my damnedest to keep you safe. Especially that pretty little body of yours.” He squeezes my waist with his other hand and I smile at him, pleased at his words. Somewhat.

  His expression remains serious as he stares at me and I realize he has more to say. “And your heart. I promise to keep that as safe as I can, too,” he whispers just before he presses the gentlest, sweetest kiss to my lips I’ve ever experienced.

  So sweet, I almost want to cry. It takes everything within me not to fall completely apart and I let my lips linger on his, not wanting to break the tentative connection we’re sharing at this very moment.

  It feels so … fragile.

  So real.

  I can’t speak. I don’t know what to say and it sounds like he’s having a conversation with just himself, though I think he knows what I’m feeling, what I want to say.

  “Now get your sweet ass in my bed, baby,” he murmurs against my lips, and I start to laugh.

  “Let me go so I can,” I urge him and he does so, his hand loosening about my waist so I can break free. He releases me and I enter his bedroom, about to lean down and turn on the lamp on the bedside table.

  But then he’s on me, hands everywhere again, mouth locked with mine, tongue thrusting deep. He devours me, consumes me with his mouth and tongue and teeth, his hands, his entire body engulfing me. I moan and clutch him close, hating how restrictive the skirt of my dress is, wishing I could wrap my legs around his hips and hang on. Grind against him shamelessly, making the throbbing between my legs grow even more, until I’m overcome, obsessed with claiming my orgasm.

  Because I am obsessed. The man turns me into a freak, a needy, unmanageable, uncontrollable little freak that wants nothing more than to get o
ff. And the only who can satisfy my needs is him.

  Max.

  My cheeks, my neck, my everything goes hot at the realization and he breaks the kiss, withdrawing slightly to study me, as if sensing my change in temperature, in mood, in whatever. I crack open my eyes and stare up at him, yet again unsure of what to say, what to do. This man still makes me so nervous and usually I hate that sort of thing. I don’t want anyone to ever have the upper hand, especially in the bedroom.

  Yet with Max, I want him to take over. Take ownership. I want to surrender and let him do whatever he wants. Command me and order me around. I love the feeling of being at his mercy.

  I crave it.

  “I want you to trust me,” he whispers when I don’t say anything. He skims his thumb across my bottom lip, the rough pad snagging on my skin, and I purse my lips around it, desperate to suck him into my mouth. He lets me play and I swipe my tongue against his finger, earning a smile from him as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. If I could take it all back, I would,” he murmurs, his words making my heart swell.

  “I want to trust you, too, but … it’s hard,” I admit, looking down.

  He slips his fingers beneath my chin and tilts my head up so I’m forced to meet his gaze. “I will do anything to regain your trust. Anything.”

  “I need you to be patient,” I whisper.

  “Done.” He runs his thumb along my jaw. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

  “I want you to make love to me,” I admit, my voice whisper soft. I have never asked a man to make love to me in my life. It’s always sex, fucking, hooking up … whatever. Never meaningful, always empty.

  But with Max it was more—and it can be so much more.

  “Lily,” he starts and I place my finger over his lips, silencing whatever else he was about to say.

  “I like it when you say my name.” He rarely does so. I’m either “princess” or “baby girl” or just “baby”—and I like those nicknames; they’re fun. They’re sexy.

  But the best word to fall from his beautiful mouth is my name. I wish he would say it more often.

  “I like it when you say my name, too.” He smiles wickedly and I drop my finger. “Especially when you’re shouting it right when I make you come.”

  Ah, there’s my cocky, bossy man. “Are you going to make me come right now?”

  He pushes his hand into my hair at the side of my head, his fingers threading through the strands. His touch feels so good, so right, and I love the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s never seen anything better. “I’m going to make love to you all night, baby. Until you’re so exhausted you’ll be begging me to stop.”

  A whimper escapes me when he presses his mouth to my throat, leaving a path of sucking, damp kisses all over my skin.

  “You love it when I talk to you like that, don’t you?” he murmurs against my neck.

  I nod, unable to form words.

  His hand slips down to my butt and gives me a squeeze. “You like it when I touch you like this, too.”

  “I do,” I whisper, my body seeming to catch fire when he palms my ass.

  Max reaches for my wrists and pins them behind my back, holding me captive as he lifts his head and stares directly into my eyes. “You like it when I take charge?”

  “Yes.” My voice trembles, my entire body quakes with need.

  “The way you look at me, the way your skin feels beneath my hand, sometimes I wonder if you were made just for me,” he murmurs, his low voice touching me deep. “You’re always so responsive. I can tell you’re turned on right now. Your eyes are almost black and I can feel you shaking.”

  A shuddery breath leaves me, my only reply.

  He tilts his head, his mouth at my ear, his breath hot and damp, and I close my eyes when he begins to speak. “I bet if I touched your pussy you’d be drenched.”

  A gush of wetness coats my panties at his words and a whimper escapes me. I don’t need to offer him confirmation. I almost hope he thrusts his hand between my legs to test me.

  “I’m going to let go of you, princess, and when I do, I want you to hike up that skirt for me. Show me what you’ve got on under that dress,” he demands, letting go of my wrists. I step away, my hands immediately going to the hem of my skirt, pulling the fabric up slowly, giving him a show, wanting him to see.

  The dress is tight and when I have the skirt pushed up to my waist he orders me to stop, his hot gaze locked on my lower half, so intense I feel as if he can penetrate the lace of my black panties. “Do you …” I clear my throat, unsure how to go about this. The last time we were together, we were both too overcome to do much talking. But he likes talking. And so do I. “Do you approve?”

  “Black lace covering the most fuckable pussy I’ve ever had? Hell yes, I approve,” he growls, his gaze lifting to mine briefly before dropping once more to my panties. “Take them off.”

  I blink, surprised he doesn’t want the honor himself. I wonder if I should be offended that he called my pussy fuckable, but the shiver that stole over my body at his words tells me otherwise. Without hesitation I curl my fingers around the band of my panties and slowly pull them down my legs, again giving him a show. I let the black lace linger around my knees before they fall to my feet in a delicate heap, getting tangled around the black stiletto heels I’m wearing.

  “Kick them off, baby,” he says, his voice low. “But keep the shoes on.”

  The panties are kicked aside but otherwise I remain still, waiting for his next request. My knees are like jelly and I probably look stupid with my skirt bunched around my waist, the expensive dress crushed by my ill treatment. But I don’t care.

  I asked him to make love to me but he knew what I really wanted, what I needed. This is what I crave, his complete and utter control of me. Because up until Max, all I’d ever felt was out of control. I love the way he takes over my thoughts, my wants, my needs.

  I love it.

  Waiting breathlessly, my heart leaps to my throat when he nonchalantly unbuttons his shirt until it’s left hanging open, exposing the white T-shirt he’s wearing underneath it. I’m poised and anxious, hopeful he’ll remove more of his clothing, but instead he flicks his chin at me, telling me without a word to remove the dress.

  Reaching to my right side, I pull the hidden zipper down, feeling the fabric part beneath my arm. When it’s loose enough, I shrug out of it, pulling it over my head and tossing it so it lands on a nearby chair. I spent so much money on that dress. Why I chose to wear it to this meeting with my family today, I don’t know. And with any other man, I probably would have hung the dress back up in my closet so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

  Tonight, with Max, I don’t care. I could throw it away with no regrets. As long as I get to be with him, feel his hands on my body, feel his cock thrust inside of me, hear him whisper all those dirty, wickedly wonderful words he loves to say in my ear, I’ll be fine.

  I’ll be perfect.

  “That bra is fucking indecent,” he says as he comes toward me, reaching out a hand to cup my breast. “I can see everything.” His thumb flicks over my nipple once. Twice. Then he brings his index finger and thumb together and pinches so tight, I gasp, sinking my teeth into my lower lip as the sting continues to burn. When he releases me, I heave out a breath, secretly hoping he’ll deliver the same treatment to my other nipple.

  And I think he knows it.

  “So beautiful,” he whispers, staring reverently at my chest. He cups my breasts, his thumbs sweeping over my nipples. My entire body quakes with anticipation, I’m so keyed up. I’m afraid I could come just from him playing with my nipples. I want him that much.

  “That feels so good,” I tell him, unable to hold back.

  “I know. I can tell. Your face is flushed and so is your chest. You always get this rosy glow when I touch you. Like my hands light you up from within,” he says, his gaze never leaving mine. “You want me to fuck you hard and make you scream. You want me to eat
your pussy until you’re coming all over my face and squirming like you do. You want it all because no one else makes you feel like I do. No one.”

  I swallow hard. Everything he says is true. Will I ever get tired of hearing him say such gloriously filthy things?

  No, I don’t think so.

  “Get on the bed, princess.” He reaches around me and slaps my bare ass, the hard smack like a jolt to my system. I jerk forward and on shaky legs walk to his massive bed, crawling onto the mattress on all fours and earning a low whistle from Max for my efforts.

  “What a fucking view,” he says, and I glance over my shoulder to find him staring directly at my exposed butt.

  Figures.

  I turn and collapse onto the bed on my back, my arms bent at the elbow so I’m propped up and can see what he’s doing. He stands at the foot of the bed, still completely clothed while I’m practically undressed, in only a bra and heels, my hair a mess, my makeup most likely smeared or worn off, and my pussy is throbbing so bad I squeeze my thighs together to try and find some relief.

  It doesn’t help. In fact, he notices the subtle move and his gaze darkens, his jaw tightens. “What are you doing?”

  I don’t know how to answer him or what to say, so I stare at him helplessly.

  “Did you squeeze your thighs together? Are you close to coming?”

  “Y-yes,” I admit, loving the dangerous light that fills his eyes. Oh, my admission just made him so angry and I …

  I fucking love it.

  “You’re not allowed until I say so.” The finality to his words tells me I will be in deep, deep trouble if I come before he says I can. Which only makes me want to come quicker, sooner, harder, now.

  “Do you understand what I’m telling you, princess?” he asks when I don’t say anything.

  “Yes.” I nod.

  “Good.” He smiles, but it’s dark. The rush that comes from the sight of his smile, the words that he says to me, are heady and strong. A realization about myself and about Max. This is exactly what I craved but never knew. His complete command over me, my total surrender to him.