Take Me (Take Me 1)

She bit her lip and, on the edge of coming, moved her foot away and cried out at the thought of Travis ramming into her. He reached for himself, and she was undone.

Her head fell back against the thick tile rim. “Travis,” she moaned, as her hips bucked up in the water against her maniacally moving fingers. Her orgasm, while not as good as anything Travis had made her feel with his tongue and cock, was so much better than any orgasm she had ever had solo. She didn’t simply contract between her legs, she convulsed.

Travis panted, “Jesus,” and when she opened her eyes, Lily watched him come in thick spurts, the cords of his neck taut, his biceps flexed, his abs tensed into a perfect six-pack.

Get out of the tub, Lily, she advised herself silently. Get out of the tub, and it will be Lily, one, Travis, zero. But the combination of warm water with a huge orgasm was a powerful relaxation formula.

She so badly wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep.

Get up before he convinces you to go for round two. She couldn’t help it, she smiled at the thought of round two. And three. And four.

Get up before he punishes you for pushing him away.

Her eyes grew wide at that thought. In a flash, she was up and reaching for a cream-colored plush bath towel.

“Lily,” Travis growled in a menacing tone from behind her. She instinctively scurried to the door before she remembered that she was in control of this situation. Conjuring up a playful, unconcerned glance, she peeked at Travis over her shoulder, and said, “I’m starved, aren’t you?”

Travis’s eyes ran from her head to her toes, then back up. Lily’s blood rushed hot, but she pointedly ignored her arousal. “I’m going to get dressed and find a restaurant,” she said, heading into the bedroom without waiting for an answer, hoping that Travis hadn’t noticed the towel shaking in her trembling hands.

Why, oh why, did the first thing to come out of her mouth when she was stark naked in front of Travis be about food?

Lily sighed and dried herself off. Somehow she was going to make it through the trip. Either that or throw herself off the balcony, where she would surely crush a lovely rosemary plant when she fell.

Chapter Eight

Travis toweled off his hair with quick, angry strokes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been left so unsatisfied by a sexual encounter. Lily was turning out to be one mean cock-teaser.

Either that or she’s just not that into you, buddy.

Travis stood up too fast and bumped his head on the marble counter around the sinks. He scowled at his reflection in the mirror. “Bull,” he said, before wrapping the towel around his waist. “She’s into me,” he stated, trying for a cocky grin, but it fell flat, and he knew it.

Travis had never had to work so hard with a woman. He beckoned, they came. He wanted, they gave.

He left, well… he didn’t know exactly what they did when he left. But the one thing he did know was that there was no way that Lily was going to mess up his sexual self-esteem.

Travis turned and walked out of the bathroom, colliding with Lily as she headed for the main door of their suite.

He grabbed her arm roughly, hoping it looked like he was trying to steady her, when really all he wanted was to finally touch her. He repressed a groan of desire as his fingers wrapped around her upper arm, lightly brushing against her incredible br**sts.

“What are you doing in that dress?” he said, regretting his sneer and tone the minute the words flew from his lips. Dealing with Lily was difficult enough right then—he was so horny he wanted to drag her by her hair into the bedroom and take her again and again and again—but seeing her in that dress, the incredible sheath from the fashion show, was enough to send all of the remaining blood away from his brain.

Lily wrenched her arm from his grasp and took a step away from him. Licking her delicious red lips, she narrowed her eyes. When did her eyelashes grow so long? Travis wondered inanely as he watched her pupils dilate.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Travis,” she said, his name sounding like a curse, “but I’m going out to eat dinner.”

Travis took another step closer to her. “Everything you do in this country is my business,” he said, unable to stop the rush of words even though he knew he sounded like an idiot. “I brought you here, and whatever you do you’re going to be doing with me.” If only that were true, he thought.

Lily’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Her mouth formed a pretty little circle. Sweet as sugar, she said, “I didn’t know you were so proprietary with your colleagues. I wonder why you even brought me along if you were planning to make all of the decisions anyway?”

Travis didn’t trust himself at all standing so close to Lily, particularly when she was wearing that dress. If she were any other woman, he would have kissed the smirk off her face; but for the first time, he wasn’t sure if a woman wanted him to kiss her. Yet again, Travis regretted his impulsive decision to bring Lily to Italy. He had been blinded by the need to bury himself between her br**sts, to sink into her wet heat.

Angry at her, but even angrier at himself, Travis ground out, “Wait here for me. I’m coming with you.”

Lily sighed dramatically but had the good sense to head back into the living room to sit down. If she had tried to bolt, he would have had to spank her until she knew who was boss.

His c**k surged beneath the towel at the thought of bringing his hands down onto her round butt cheeks.

He grabbed his suitcase off the living room couch and walked into the bedroom. God forbid Lily knew that he couldn’t keep from getting a hard-on around her, even after he’d beat off like a schoolboy in the tub minutes before. Then she’d think that she actually had some sort of control over him.

No matter how cool he had to play it from that point forward, he was going to make sure that she never found out how badly she affected him. Lose the hard-on and get dressed, moron, he instructed himself with cold practicality.

Five minutes later he emerged in faded jeans and a Red Sox T-shirt. Lily, who was lounging on one of the plush sofas, had the nerve to raise an eyebrow when she saw him, and say, “Nice T-shirt.”

Travis had hoped to shame her into changing her outfit by dressing like a slob—her dress messed with his brain waves in a big way—but the opposite had happened: He felt like a schmuck for underdressing.

The only thing left to do was to get out of this godforsaken hotel room—the bathtub would never look quite the same again—and into the crisp, clear Tuscan air. After a quick dinner he’d drop Lily back off at the hotel and prowl the bars in town.