Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters #3)(34)

He starts to walk, acting like my weight slung on his back doesn’t affect him at all, not one huff or puff escaping him. “No one? Not even your dad?”

“Especially not my dad.” The silence that follows after my snarky remark is almost deafening. “He wasn’t the hands-on sort.”

“Gotcha.” He’s quiet for a moment longer. “Not even with a high school boyfriend, huh?”

“We never messed around or played any sorts of games like … this.” Everything was much more sophisticated and grown-up where I come from. In high school my friends and I drank the finest liquor money could buy since we pilfered it from our parents’ locked liquor cabinets. We bought the most expensive cocaine or weed because usually one of us had connections to a top-of-the-line dealer.

No searching the dirty streets for a dime bag for us private school girls and boys, no way.

“I’m sure you played other games, right?”

“Sure.” I don’t want to go into detail. I really don’t want to share my past with him. I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. I was a total spoiled bitch who demanded certain things and … always got them.

In other words, I was horrid.

“How about skinny-dipping? Ever do that?”

My entire body tingles at the casual suggestion. “Are you saying that’s what we’re going to do? Don’t tell me we’re going to hike down this entire mountain to the ocean.” We’re still a long way from the water. I can’t imagine he could carry me much farther.

“Nah, I have a better spot all picked out.” He turns right, down a trail I didn’t even notice. It’s mostly covered by overgrown shrubs, vines and low-hanging tree branches, and we have to duck as we make our way along the new trail.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” I ask, squeezing my legs along his sides.

He huffs out a breath. Finally, he sounds tired. The man can just go and go. It’s almost nice to see cracks in his perfectly fit veneer. “Another few minutes and you’ll find out.”

I remain silent, enjoying the sensation of his big hands gripping the back of my legs, how solid he feels between my thighs. The scent of his hair is intoxicating, as is the feel of his body moving and shifting beneath me. He’s so strong, so hard … everywhere. Just knowing this man had me every which way last night into this morning is enough to leave my body buzzing and desperate for more.

He rounds a corner, past a particularly thick group of trees, and I hear it before I see it. A dull, steady roar, the sound of water splashing. Then it comes into view, like a shining oasis in the middle of a desert, a gorgeous waterfall cascading down the side of a mountain and falling into a channel of swirling water.

“We’re here,” he says as he loosens his hold on me and I slide down his back, making sure I brush against every available body part of his that I can. I straighten the hem of my tank top as he turns to look at me, a satisfied smile on his face as he waves a hand in the direction of the waterfall. “Was that worth the hike or what?”

“It’s beautiful,” I agree as I start walking toward it. The water is falling so rapidly I can feel it mist in the air, bathing my warm skin in cool sprinkles. I go to the water’s edge and kick off my flip-flops, dipping my toes into the water. “And cold.”

“Yeah?” He approaches me, stopping right by my side. He tugs off his shirt, revealing that mouth-watering chest, and my greedy gaze drinks him in, not sure where I should settle my eyes first.

All of it is just too delicious to take in.

“Are you jumping in?” I ask as he toes off his shoes.

“Hell, yeah. It was hot, packing you down that mountain.”

I slap his arm, grimacing at the impact. His biceps are rock hard. “I told you I was too heavy.”

“Nah, I’m just giving you shit.” He reaches for the button of his shorts and undoes it, then slides the zipper down, taking off his shorts and his boxer briefs in one push. He kicks them off, flashes me a wicked smile, and starts walking into the water.

Breathless, I watch him, my gaze glued to his ass. It’s firm and muscular, just like the rest of him, and stark white compared to his tanned skin, as are the back of his thighs. I giggle, clamping my lips shut when he gets waist deep and turns to look at me.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks.

“Your ghostly white butt,” I tell him, deciding to be honest.

He splashes water at me, getting my feet and ankles wet, and I jump back a little. “I bet your pretty little ass is just as white. In fact, I know it is.”

I remember that he became real up-close-and-personal with my ass this morning and my skin tingles at the memory. “Care to see it?”

“Absolutely,” he says without hesitation.

I grab the bottom of my tank and yank it up and over my head, tossing it to the ground. I’m not wearing a bra and I swear I hear him mutter, “I knew it,” under his breath as he watches me strip.

Smiling, I continue, taking off my white shorts, a small part of me hoping like crazy that they don’t get too dirty while crumpled on the ground, leaving me only in a white lacy thong that is completely see-through.

Exactly the reason I wore it.

His expression slackens and that arrogant smile disappears. He’s gazing at my panties like they’re the solution to all of his problems and I start to wade into the water, hissing in a breath at the cold temperature. “Like what you see?” I ask innocently.