Taming Lily

by Monica Murphy

  Lily Fowler.

  “You’re my rescuer.” The words come out a statement, not a question, and dread consumes me, makes me wish she would have never looked back, never seen me yesterday.

  Did that incompetent kid tell her I was the one who rescued her? Probably not, considering Lily looked right at me before she passed out.

  Shit.

  When I don’t say anything, she continues.

  “I wanted to thank you,” she says, her voice light and sweet, her eyes sparkling and friendly. She tilts her head to the side, a little smile curling her lips. I’m thankful her sunglasses are sitting on top of her head so I can really study her. Her eyes are clear, her cheeks are rosy from the sun, and she looks fucking gorgeous. Getting a testosterone spike is so not what I need right now. “For saving me,” she adds.

  Jesus. I need to say something. Not stare at her like some sort of tongue-tied asshole. I clear my throat. “Just doing what any other man would’ve done.”

  “Please. I’m not so sure about that.” She rests her hands on her hips, smiling, then wincing when her wounded palm makes contact with her skin and the tie of her bikini bottoms. My gaze drops to that tie and the matching one on her other hip. Two tugs and I could have her mostly naked.

  Not the right direction for my mind to stray.

  I sit up straight, swinging my legs wide so I’m straddling the lounger. Her head drops, her lips parting slightly, and I wonder if she can feel it. The attraction that vibrates between us, like a living, breathing thing. My fingers literally itch to touch her again and I clench them into tight fists.

  Jesus, get your shit together!

  “Well, you’re welcome. You’re lucky I saw you,” I say, hating how rough my voice sounds, how my temperature spikes at having her so close. This—attraction between us is strong.

  “Of course you saw me. You’re not only my rescuer, you’re my watcher, too.” A delicate eyebrow lifts as she settles her sunglasses over her eyes, shielding herself from me. I can’t help but be impressed with the way she calls me out.

  The girl isn’t timid, and I don’t know if this is a good trait or not. It’s probably half the reason she gets herself in so much trouble.

  Who’d have known it would be such a damn turn-on?

  “Not sure what you’re talking about.” Curling my lips, I lean back against the lounger once more, straightening out my legs and crossing my feet at the ankles like I plan on staying here a good long time. Playing dumb and enjoying her company far more than I should.

  “Really. You don’t know what I’m talking about?” She sounds skeptical.

  I shrug. “Don’t quite understand what you’re getting at, either.”

  “Yesterday. On the beach. You were staring at me while I was in the cabana. Or maybe you don’t remember?” The question is more like a challenge.

  As if I could forget. “Can’t a man admire a pretty girl when he sees one?” I smile sheepishly, going for the oops, busted look, and I see her expression soften the slightest bit.

  Almost got her.

  “Well.” She clears her throat and stands up a little straighter, thrusting her chest out. Damn, the woman is going to kill me with that smokin’-hot body, I swear. “Now that we got the awkward part of the conversation out of the way, I want to thank you again for rescuing me. I got pulled under the water and started to panic and … I’m not sure what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come along.” The worry in her voice is blatant and tugs at something deep inside me. But I need to play it off, resisting the urge to wrap her up in my arms and clutch her tight.

  “It’s a good thing I did then, huh?” I offer a smile, a big one this time, not my usual style. I’ve spent far too much time walking around with a permanent scowl on my face and I swear the muscles in my cheeks are already trembling with exertion. “Glad I could help you.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” When I nod, she continues. “Why didn’t you stick around? After I blacked out?” She crosses her arms in front of her, plumping up her breasts the slightest bit, offering me a glorious view of her cleavage. I try not to look, but it’s damn difficult. “Didn’t you want to make sure I was all right?”

  “I knew you were in good hands.” An exaggeration if there ever was one, since that kid who worked for the hotel was an utter failure.

  “Really.” Her gaze drops to my hands, which are currently resting on my stomach, fingers linked, pose casual. “Because I thought your hands were pretty good.”

  Her words stun me silent. Now I’m the one who feels tense, restless. Having her this close, listening to her lyrical voice, seeing the light sheen of sweat that coats her skin, inhaling the scent of her, heady and sweet …

  Fuck. It’s taking everything inside of me to keep from grabbing her and hauling her into my arms.

  She’s staring, looking like she’s waiting for me to say something else, so I fill the silence. “Plus I had to leave.”

  Her arms drop to her sides and I swear she looks the slightest bit defeated. “Oh. Of course. Back to your wife?”

  I glance at the empty lounger right next to mine. “No,” I say slowly, wondering what she’s getting at.

  “Your girlfriend, then,” she suggests, her tone flat. First she flirts, now she fishes.

  “Don’t have one of those either.” I shake my head. She’s not coy. Her bluntness is surprising, but then again, not. That she wants to see if I’m here with someone is … interesting.

  And allows me an opportunity.

  “So you’re here alone.”

  “Yeah.” I let my gaze trail over her, from the top of her head on down, lingering on the good bits, which there are plenty of, though she can’t tell what with my sunglasses on. “How about you?”

  She smiles. “I shouldn’t admit shit to you.”

  I laugh, surprised again at her brutal honesty. “Smart move.”

  “Hey, I learned about stranger danger in elementary school.” Her smile is blinding. Pretty, straight teeth flash at me for the briefest moment and I’m a little dazzled from the sight.

  Keep your head on straight, asshole.

  “Well, my name is Max.” I sit up once more and hold out my hand to her.

  She takes a tentative step forward and slips her hand into mine, the bandaged one. Despite the barrier, her touch is like an electrified jolt to my system, and I clasp her hand gently, not wanting to hurt her. “Lily,” she offers softly.

  I grin. Don’t let go of her hand. “I guess this makes us not strangers anymore, huh, Lily?”

  Her answering grin sends a surge of lust straight to my cock. She carefully extracts her hand from my hold. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Care to join me?” I indicate the empty lounge chair next to me with a slight inclination of my head.

  Her gaze shifts to the chair briefly before returning to mine. “I’m afraid I have to decline.”

  Say what?

  “But it was great meeting you.” She offers me a little wave before she starts to turn away. “Bye, Max.”

  I watch her retreat, my gaze dropping to her ass, watching the material of her bikini bottom rise and offer me a glimpse of her perfectly round, perfectly smooth cheeks. My hands itch to touch her there.

  Touch her anywhere.

  “See you around,” I call after her, but she doesn’t look back. As if she knows I’m watching her, lusting after her, wishing I could have her, yet she can walk away so easily. Like I’m no big deal. Like I don’t affect her whatsoever.

  I think I might, though. And now that we’ve met, know each other’s names, I’m not going to waste time. I need to make my next move.

  Tonight.

  chapter six

  Lily

  MY WATCHER GAVE UP watching over me.

  I think.

  Last night I ate dinner alone, in too much pain and too woozy from the medication I took to go out. Tonight, the thought of another lonely meal by myself in my room—yes, fine, it’s a gorgeous bungalow with an
amazing view of the ocean, but still—depressed the hell out of me. So I dressed up and decided to take myself out.

  And couldn’t find Max anywhere. I wandered the resort grounds, numerous couples walking hand-in-hand passing me by and making me envious.

  Me. Envious of couples, of other people having someone to love. The girl who doesn’t believe in relationships, who has a daddy complex because he’s so selfish, is wishing she had someone, at least for tonight.

  If my sisters were here, they’d be beside themselves in shock.

  After searching around the resort for almost thirty minutes and about ready to give up, I accidentally stumbled upon a discreet nightclub tucked away behind one of the hotel towers. My earlier boredom evaporated the moment I saw the club and all the people milling about in front of it. I’d been so restless since the moment I walked away from Max, regret hitting me full blast when I went back to my bungalow. I knew I would go out looking for him tonight.

  And most likely get myself into trouble.

  Adults only, the sign reads by the club’s door, the loud thumping bass of the music pounding from within the dark, cavernous room, the sound seeming to throb deep inside my body. Pausing at the door, I peek my head in and see that the place is full of people.

  A man materializes in front of me, large and imposing, and I take a step back, craning my neck to look up at his face. He’s huge, his face like an impenetrable mask, his mouth drawn into a thin line as he crosses his arms in front of his massive chest. His head is shaved, his skin dark, a sleeve of tattoos covers each arm, and he’s wearing a tight black T-shirt that conforms perfectly to his muscular chest. I stare at him, at a loss for words. His eyes narrow as he glares at me.

  “How old are you, sweetheart?” he grunts.

  Okay, I can’t remember the last time I was carded, but every club I hang out at in Manhattan knows who I am, so I’m surprised. “Old enough,” I answer, lifting my chin and resting my hands on my hips. I probably look younger than I am, what with the lack of makeup on my lightly sunburned face and the simple bright pink cotton dress I’m wearing. It’s not my usual style.

  But I’m trying to deviate from my usual style while here on Maui. It’s refreshing, not having to keep up the pretense.

  The man looks me over, not in a creepy, sexual way, but in an assessing, I-don’t-believe-you-at-all manner. He probably deals with fake IDs every night.

  He flicks his head at me, the glare softening in his gaze. “Let me see your ID.”

  Slightly irritated, I reach into my tiny purse and pull out my identification card, handing it over to him. He takes it, staring at the card, his gaze lifting to take me in for a long, tension-filled moment before he resumes his study of my ID.

  I shift on my feet, worry coursing through me. I hope he doesn’t recognize my name. I’m here to avoid the Lily Fowler persona, not embrace it. Not that I think I’m that recognizable or whatever, but I’m trying to avoid the bullshit that comes with people knowing who I am.

  “You can go in,” he finally says as he offers my ID back to me. I take it from him and stuff it in my purse before I flash him a quick smile.

  “Thank you,” I toss over my shoulder as I enter the club. I blink against the darkness, my eyes adjusting slowly as I take everything in. I’m surrounded by people, the women scantily dressed and overly made up, the men clad in Hawaiian shirts or tank tops, many of them sporting fresh sunburns, their skin gleaming red against the flash of multicolored lights coming from the nearby dance floor.

  I can feel the men’s eyes on me as I walk past them, checking me out. I’m sure they see me as fresh meat. I knew the resort caters to the singles crowd versus families but I’ve seen nothing but couples since I arrived, save for my watcher.

  Damn it, I still want to kick myself for leaving him like I did earlier. Why didn’t I take him up on his offer? I could have sat on that empty lounge chair and talked to him. Flirted with him some more. He certainly is handsome, in that rugged, manly way that I don’t normally find attractive. But I caught myself before taking it too far.

  I stop at the edge of the thick crowd that surrounds the giant bar, standing on tiptoe to see just how deep the throng is. The club is hot. I’m dying of thirst and wouldn’t mind getting my buzz on if I’m really going to stay here for a while, which I so am. It’s not like I have any major plans. And unfortunately, I haven’t spotted Max. Though I’d love to. Despite the warning bells clanging in my head, I’m half ready to go with my impulses.

  How would one night of hot sex with a stranger hurt? I need to do something to take the edge off.

  “Care for something to drink?”

  Startled from my thoughts, I turn at the sound of the deep voice coming from behind me, ignoring the disappointment that settles in my stomach when I see that it’s not Max. Of course it’s not Max. He probably wouldn’t frequent a club like this.

  Would he?

  This man, he’s very attractive, in a slick, well-kept way. He looks a little older than me, mid to late thirties, with a confident smile and interest lighting his pale blue eyes.

  “Are you offering?” I flash him a flirtatious smile, grateful for the attention, almost starved for it despite my reluctance to capitalize on my last name while I’m here. I was starting to feel invisible, and that flat-out never happens to me.

  “You look like you could use a helping hand.” He inclines his head to the right, toward the crowd clamoring for the two bartenders’ attention. “I have the inside track.”

  I raise a brow. “Really? Friends with one of the bartenders?”

  “Friends with the owner,” he says, his smile growing with a shade of arrogance.

  “Nice.” I don’t mind a little arrogance in a man. It usually means they’re confident, and I find that attractive. “I’d appreciate the help, considering it looks like it would take about an hour for the bartenders to move through that crowd.”

  “They’re faster than they look.” He chuckles. “What would you like?”

  “Hmm.” I tap my finger against my lips, notice that his attention goes right to my mouth. He is definitely on the prowl. I’m not sure if he’s my type, but a little flirting never hurt anyone. “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you have a preference? Something you like in particular?” He steps closer, his voice lowering as he reaches out and settles his hand on my bent elbow. I feel nothing at his nearness or his touch and I’m disappointed. I’d love to feel a spark, a zing, anything.

  But there’s only one man who seems to have my interest on this island and he’s nowhere to be found.

  “You choose.” Though I don’t usually like to give up control, when I first meet men, I know they love showing off in any way possible, including picking out something to drink for me. “Surprise me.”

  “All right. I will.” He releases his hold on my elbow and offers his hand. “Russ.”

  “Lily.” I take his hand and shake it, careful of my still-wrapped palm. Again, there’s no spark, not even a pleasant buzz, and I struggle to keep my smile in place. I shouldn’t get so hung up on a man who I clearly rejected only a few hours ago. It’s my own damn fault I’m alone tonight, chatting up another guy I have zero interest in.

  “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be right back.” Russ releases his hold on my hand, his gaze intense as it locks with mine. “Lily.”

  He leaves me standing there on the fringe of the crowd surrounding the bar and I glance around, searching for a face that I just can’t find.

  So stupid.

  Within minutes Russ is bringing me a glass of white wine—not a lot of thought behind the choice, but I’m impressed enough by how quick he was so I can’t complain. I take the glass from him with a coy smile and a murmured thanks, noticing how close he stands next to me, a beer bottle clasped in his hand.

  “Have you been to this club before?” he asks, dipping his head so his mouth is close to my ear. Almost too close.

  I take a step back. “This is my first t
ime,” I say just before I take a sip from my glass. The wine is almost bitter and I make a face. Did he buy me the cheapest shit they have or what?

  “Ah, so you’re a virgin.” The sly smile he offers makes me laugh.

  “Not quite,” I say, making his eyebrows rise. “I haven’t been called a virgin in a long time.”

  “Well, you’re a virgin to Vice.” He invades my space once more; his voice is low but I can still hear it above the din of the crowd. “And I’m looking forward to popping your Vice cherry.”

  Ew, gross. What the hell is he talking about? I shift to the side, giving us some breathing room. And I need it, what with how strong his cologne is. “What sort of club is this place?”

  “Have you never heard of Vice?” When I shake my head, he continues. “It adheres to the meaning of its name quite closely, if you know what I mean. Your every immoral, wicked fantasy come true.”

  Oh. I try my best to keep my expression neutral because I don’t want him to know I’m shocked. I’ve been to a few, hmm … alternative clubs in my past. I’ve never partaken in anything, though. More like I’m always an observer.

  “Kinky,” I say with a hint of laughter, making him chuckle as well.

  “You’re not shocked?” he asks just before he takes a sip from his beer.

  “No. I had my suspicions, what with the name of the club and all,” I say breezily. I’m really good at faking it when I need to. And right now? I’m totally faking it.

  “So what’s a beautiful woman like you doing in Maui all alone?” he asks, his voice casual, his gaze … predatory.

  A shiver moves through me, and not the good kind.

  And what is it with men being so surprised at a woman traveling alone? “I needed to get away.” I don’t say anything else. I’ve discovered over the years the less said, the better.

  “From life?” He smirks. It’s vaguely smarmy and I tell myself to knock it off. He’s just being friendly. I’m making too big a deal over this.