Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters #3)(16)

“Doesn’t matter to you. Just do as I say and let her go,” I demand, my voice loud, causing more than a few people to turn and look in our direction. Reluctantly, he releases his hold on her and she springs away from him, absently rubbing her arm at the spot where he touched her. “Come here, Lily.”

She hurries over to stand just behind me, never protesting my command, and I’m thankful. I don’t want any trouble, but I feel like everywhere this girl goes, she’s a walking, talking disaster. To keep her out of danger I’ll have to put her under lock and key.

And why does that thought appeal so damn much?

“What, is she your bitch?” the man asks as he starts to laugh. I lunge for him, my hands gripping the front of his shirt, close to his collar, as I yank him up almost to his toes and thrust my face in his.

“Don’t you ever call her that again, do you hear me? Or I’ll f*ck up that pretty little face of yours,” I murmur, my voice low so only he can hear me.

He blinks up at me, the anger in his eyes turning to fear, and I let go of his shirt, pushing him away from me so he nearly stumbles and falls. He bumps into a small crowd of women and they all shout out in protest, calling him names as he scrambles to his feet and takes off, the women’s laughter trailing after him.

I turn to Lily, about to ask her if she’s all right, but I find her gaping at me, a shocked expression on her pretty face.

“You defended me,” she says, her voice full of awe.

I brush at the front of my white shirt. Despite how dark the club is, the lights are almost fluorescent and my shirt seems to glow. I didn’t mean to be so damn obvious. I also didn’t mean to end up at some sort of deviant club, defending Lily Fowler’s honor, for Christ’s sake. “Of course I did. That * had his hands all over you.”

She takes a few cautious steps toward me, those plump, sexy-as-hell lips still parted in surprise, and my fantasies go into overdrive. I can imagine tracing them with my finger. Slipping my dick between them, hearing her sigh in pleasure just before she licks the head of my cock with her wicked tongue …

“No one’s ever done that for me before. Thank you,” she says sincerely.

Now I’m the one who’s shocked. I push all dirty thoughts out of my head and concentrate on the stunned woman in front of me. “What the hell are you talking about, no one’s ever done that for you before?”

“Rushed to my defense,” she explains, tilting her head to the side, as if she’s observing me in a whole new light. “I’m usually left on my own, having to take care of myself.”

Guilt nails me in the gut and I try to ignore it, but I can’t. I hate her admission, hate thinking of her all alone, all the time. I shouldn’t feel sorry for her. I shouldn’t give two shits about this girl, but … I do. Why? I don’t know her, not really. She’s bound to be more trouble than she’s worth. Only a couple of days in and I’ve already rescued her twice.

Leave. Just turn around and go.

But my feet stay firmly in place.

“That guy …” My voice drifts and I stare at her hard. She’s the one who puts herself in these types of situations. It’s as if she looks for trouble. “He could’ve hurt you if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“I know. It was dumb. I shouldn’t have talked to him, let him get that drink for me.” She moves even closer, and I can smell her. Honey and sunshine. Sweet and warm. “You’re like my white knight.”

“I’m no one’s knight, princess.” I want to say more, but the words get caught in my throat when she wraps her arms around my neck and presses that hot, tight little body against mine. I can feel her, every single inch of her, and my cock twitches in response at the same exact time my brain short-circuits.

“You’re mine,” she whispers, her hand curling around the back of my neck and tugging my head down to hers. “At least for tonight.”

And then she presses her mouth to mine, her lips sweet and insistent, the faintest sigh escaping her when my lips gently part beneath hers. No tongues are involved, just lips and breaths and her fingers tightening around my neck, her mouth so damn soft and damp and f*cking delicious. I don’t touch her, just let her guide the kiss, let her have all the control, though it goes against everything I normally do when I’m kissing a woman. I restrain myself from taking it deeper. Harder.

It’s the most difficult thing I’ve done in a long-ass time.

When she pulls away from my mouth, her hand loosening its grip on my neck, I stare down at her, wondering what her motives are. I need to remain suspicious. This girl is the enemy. Hell, more like I’m working for her enemy. I can’t lose focus. “Why’d you kiss me?”

She smiles, managing to be sweet and sexy all at once. Her breasts are nestled close to my chest, the deep V of her dress allowing me a fine glimpse of her cleavage. I could slip my hand beneath the neckline and touch warm, bare skin in seconds. I’d bet good money she’s not wearing a bra. “Aren’t all princesses supposed to kiss their white knight as a way of saying thank you for rescuing them?”

I slip my arm around her waist and tug her closer, her eyes going wide when she feels just how much she’s affected me. She wants it bold? I’ll give it to her bold. “Like I told you, I’m no one’s white knight, princess. No matter how badly you want me to be.”