Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters 3)

I try them all, but not a one of them works.

Damn it.

Carefully closing the laptop, I shove my phone back into my pocket before I slide the laptop back into its hiding place in the closet, making sure I disturb nothing. If Pilar knew I was putting the laptop back where I found it, she’d come unglued. Hell, I wouldn’t blame her.

I should grab it and leave. Fuck Lily Fowler. Fuck the shit I left in my hotel room. It’s a few changes of clothes and toiletries, nothing else. I could leave it all behind and not miss it. Deliver the laptop to my client and be done with the job. Hands clean. Money earned.

But my hands wouldn’t be clean and neither would my conscience. I had sex with her last night. My subject. Lily. I kissed her, fucked her, slept with her, her body nestled close to mine, like we were lovers. The very last thing I should have done, yet I did it anyway like a complete asshole.

I’m in too deep and I need to find my way out. I can’t let her suck me in any deeper, despite how much I want to be sucked in. I like the woman. I enjoy spending time with her. Every time our eyes meet, it’s like a current of electricity runs through my veins. And when she touches me, kisses me … damn.

I’m done for.

But I can’t let any of that affect me. I need to re-strategize. Come up with a new plan, one that allows me to spend more time with Lily.

You’re a fucking idiot.

Fine, I am. An idiot who wants at least one more night on this island with Lily.

I’ll earn Lily’s trust. Hell, I’m probably more than halfway there already. I’ll discover the things and the people that mean something to her, try to figure out exactly what went wrong between her and Pilar. And then I’ll get into that laptop and find out exactly what Pilar is looking for.

Chapter eleven

Lily

MY EYELIDS ARE HEAVY and I don’t want to open them. Plus the room is bright with the rising sun—I can see the glow even behind my closed eyes, and I know the second I open them I’ll want to hiss and groan like a vampire.

More than anything, I’m reluctant for this night—morning, whatever—with Max to end. What if he utters a casual, “It’s been real,” and then bails on me? I don’t think my mind—or my heart—could take it. I know what happened between us can be nothing but casual. I get it.

So why am I feeling like this? Like I don’t want him to go? Like I want to spend the rest of my vacation with him, exploring the island, going out for dinner, splashing in the pool or better yet, in the ocean, and then letting him take me to new heights of pleasure every night?

Because you always want what you can’t have.

Isn’t that the truth?

My body aches in the best possible way and I stretch my legs out, wincing at the dull pain I feel between my thighs. Not an agonizing pain, no. More like a you’ve been well used and you’d like more of it right now, please type of pain.

“You okay, princess?” A large, warm hand slides down my back just before I feel Max press a soft, lingering kiss to my bare shoulder.

I squeeze my eyes shut, both loving and hating how tenderly he treats me. I’m confused. I don’t know what I want from him. Worse, I don’t know what he wants from me.

He slides into the bed, pressing his hard, hot body flush against mine from behind. His arm comes around my waist, his hand resting almost possessively on my stomach, and I sigh contentedly, enjoying how good he feels pressed next to me.

“I should go soon,” Max murmurs just before he drops a kiss on my neck, behind my ear.

I want to scream out, No! Don’t leave me! But I contain myself. “Got some things to do?”

“No, not really.” His mouth is at my ear, his warm breath making me shiver. “I should go back and take a shower. Get some fresh clothes on.”

“Oh.” I rest my hand lightly over his, curling my fingers so I can draw patterns on top of his hand. “I should take a shower, too.”

“You smell delicious.” He squeezes me tight, his face in my hair.

“I’d rather not leave this bed.” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Starved, but I’m hungrier for him. “I’m all right.”

“We need condoms.”

Oh. That we do. “Valid point.”

“I could go back to my room, take a shower, get dressed, and pick up a box at the gift shop in the lobby,” he suggests. “And then we could meet in a few hours and go do something. Together.”

“Like what?” I smooth my thumb over the top of his hand, my entire body going tense in anticipation when he slides that hand down lower, over the slope of my belly.

“Let me surprise you,” he says, his fingers tangling through my scant pubic hair so that he ends up cupping me between my legs.

My hand falling away from his, I spread my thighs open, allowing him entry, whimpering when his fingers sink into my damp folds. His touch is slow. Assured. Confident. Back and forth he strokes me, teasing my clit, thrusting one finger shallowly inside my body before removing it. Toying with me, driving me wild, making me shiver and shake in anticipation.

“I love how wet you always are for me,” he whispers close to my ear, the slick sounds of his fingers in my pussy loud in the otherwise quiet of the room. “And I love how easily you respond to me.”

I’m already mindless with wanting him. I can’t speak, I can hardly think at his touch and I lean back against him, my head on his shoulder, my limbs weak. I close my eyes and focus on his sure fingers working me toward orgasm.