Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters #3)(13)

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 time,” 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.