Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters #3)(17)

The sassy look on her face tells me she likes the challenge. “I like it when you call me ‘princess.’ ”

“And I don’t like it when you call me your white knight.” I splay my fingers wide at the small of her back, touching just the top of her ass. I want to smooth my hand down lower and cup her flesh but damn it, we’re in a public place.

A public place called Vice, you idiot. You can do just about anything you want in a club like this.

“Maybe I should call you something else.” Her smile grows. She sure is receptive after nearly getting into a dangerous situation with a complete jackass only minutes ago. “Maybe with that slight drawl of yours, I should call you ‘cowboy.’ ”

I lift a brow. “Drawl?”

“Your accent,” she explains as she slides her hands down the front of my chest, so slow I’m wondering if she’s trying to memorize the sensation of my body beneath her palms. I know I’m sure as hell trying to memorize the feel of her gentle touch. “You’re from the South, right?”

“Maybe,” I say, stretching out the word, letting the Texas back into my voice at full force, liking the spark that lights her eyes.

“Tell me where you’re from,” she demands.

Fuck it. I cup her backside and haul her in as close as I can get her, her eyes going wide, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt so I can feel the light scrape of her nails against my skin. “Awfully demanding, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been known to get my way a time or two,” she practically purrs, her lids lowering as she stares at my chest, her fingers loosening their hold on my shirt.

I squeeze her ass tighter, making her squeak. It would be my absolute pleasure to mark that pretty, pale skin tonight with my bare hands but she probably won’t let me. Bossy thing. “Tell me why you wouldn’t sit with me earlier.” I shouldn’t ask. It’s as if I’m trying to torture myself and I might not like the answer.

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 f*cking 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 f*ck, 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.