Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters 3)

Her head lifts, her gaze meeting mine, wide and full of regret. “Because I’m stupid,” she admits, her voice the softest whisper.

“You’re definitely not stupid. It was probably the smartest thing you could’ve done,” I tell her, my voice just as soft. Leaning in, I press my cheek to hers, my mouth close to her curved lips. “And it’s Texas,” I whisper.

She turns the slightest bit, her lips brushing the corner of mine, and I keep the groan that wants to escape from slipping out. “You’re from Texas?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say in my best good-ol’-boy drawl. “Never was much of a cowboy, though.”

Lily laughs, the sound melodic. My heart lightens just hearing it, which is the craziest thing ever. Being with this girl … she makes me forget what I should be focusing on. “I find that surprising, considering you’re from Texas,” she says as she pulls away. I let my arms drop from her waist. “Want to get a drink?”

“You think that’s wise?” I glance around, notice that the club has become even more crowded, the music somehow louder. Beams of multicolored light flash, illuminating a couple standing close by, locked in a passionate embrace. The man’s hand is beneath the woman’s top and her hands are gripping his ass as they kiss.

No one holds back in this place. And I bet as the hour gets later, it gets even dirtier here.

“I want to check the club out, see what else is going on.” She takes my hand and starts to walk, leading me toward the back of the building, where the dance floor is. “Or maybe we should dance first.”

“Princess, I don’t dance,” I protest, but she ignores me. Her fingers entwine with mine as she pulls me through the crowd and I keep hold of her, not wanting to let her go. I see the way the men look at her as we pass and it gets my hackles up. They want her and I can’t blame them. She’s fucking gorgeous.

Yet she doesn’t seem to pay much attention to anyone but me.

“I’m not going out there and making an ass of myself,” I tell her as she heads toward the dance floor.

Lily turns on me with a pout, her eyes wide as she blinks up at me. “Come on, cowboy. I want to dance.” She starts to sway her hips and my mouth goes dry. Holy fuck, I could watch her do that all night. “All you’ll have to do is just stand there. I’ll do the rest.”

“No way.” I shake my head. It’s never that simple. I don’t dance; I never really have. But damn, she tempts me. Watching those hips move, the inviting look on her face, in her eyes …

“Please, Max?”

Hell. It’s the “please” that does it. Reluctantly, without a word, I let her lead me out onto the dance floor, thankful that she has us stand on the edge. The music is loud, the crowd moving as one to the beat, and I stand there and watch her, our gazes locked as she starts to move. Within seconds she’s lost to the music as she lifts her arms, her hands in her hair, and she lifts it away from her neck. She closes her eyes, her body fluid, and I want to grab her. Pull her into me, and feel that sexy body move and shake.

But I don’t. I just stand there like she wanted me to, my muscles tight, my skin heated. It’s hot as hell out here with all the gyrating bodies and I can feel sweat start to form on my forehead. She’s driving me out of my mind, and all she’s doing is dancing.

I can’t imagine what she’ll do to me if I ever get her beneath me, naked, wet, and willing. My head would probably explode.

“You need to loosen up.” She wraps her arms around my neck again, just like she did earlier when she kissed me, but this time she grinds her lower body against mine. The song changes, this one a little slower, a lot sexier, and she moves with it, her lids lowering, her lips pursing into a sexy pout, driving me out of my mind with wanting her.

I slip one arm around her and lift my leg so it wedges between her thighs. She takes the opportunity to dip low, and I swear to God I feel the silky rasp of her panties against my knee.

Holy shit.

Pressing my face against the side of her head, I whisper in her ear, “Turn around.”

“What?” She withdraws so she can blink up at me.

“Turn around,” I say again. “Your back to my front.”

Without protest she does as I ask, her ass brushing against my erection, and she flashes me a knowing smile over her shoulder. I grab hold of her hips, my hands loose, letting her sway and move against me. Those plump ass cheeks work my cock as she continues to dance and I let my hands drift down, toying with the hem of her dress. She arches her spine, her head going back at the exact moment I slip my hands beneath her skirt and touch the bare skin of her thighs.

Glancing around, I see no one’s paying any attention to us. Other couples out on the dance floor are getting just as grabby as we are. One man has his hand blatantly between the legs of the woman he’s with, her eyes closed in ecstasy. Another man has his hands tucked within a woman’s tank top, fingers moving busily over her breasts as he devours her mouth with his own.

Lily lifts her arms and reaches for my neck as she turns her head to the side, still moving to the music. I move with her, slowly establishing my rhythm, thrusting against her ass along with the pounding beat. She pushes her chest out as I glance down, captivated by the way the fabric of her dress slides over her breasts, her nipples hard. I race my hands up the outside of her thighs until my fingers encounter the thin, lacy strap of her panties.