Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters #3)(90)

Max is currently interviewing for more employees and we recently hired a full-time receptionist. We’ve kept it quiet that I work with him. I’ve become more of a silent partner because we don’t want to draw any unwanted media attention. Our business is discreet, and potential clients wouldn’t like it if they knew a former media darling—or media hot mess, take your pick—was working with them.

And I’ve had plenty of media attention lately, what with the recent launch of the namesake perfume. I did a ton of interviews along with Rose and Violet, and we did a huge launch at Bloomingdale’s. The media especially loves that Rose is hugely pregnant and ready to pop any day now. The Fowler Sisters’ perfumes have done amazingly well.

Not that I’m surprised.

In some ways, I’ve become a completely different person these last few months. I go into work every morning, Monday through Friday, and sometimes we even work on the weekends. Me, the party girl of Manhattan, the troublemaker, the terror, the girl nominated to crash and burn at a young age, has turned into a normal, eight-to-five—or more, to be truthful—working woman.

And I love it. I love waking up with Max, sharing a shower with him before we eat breakfast, gulp down coffee, and head to the office. I love working with Levi, who’s intense and smart and enjoys figuring out tricky code as much as I do—maybe even more.

The thing I love the most? Spending every day with Max. I thought we would get sick of each other and he admitted he had that fear, too. Yet I’m not sick of him at all. If anything, I appreciate and love him more and more each day. He’s amazing. So smart, so diligent, always wanting to do the right thing no matter what.

All that integrity I thought he didn’t have? He possesses it in spades. And it’s sexy, too. Everything about him is sexy.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. We should stay here in your giant apartment versus the box I live in.” With his big hands still gripping my ass, he spreads my legs wider, his fingers sinking into my wet *, and I inhale sharply, loving the way he knows just how to touch me. “You got enough space in that fancy closet of yours so my clothes can fit?” he murmurs into my neck.

“No way are you getting anywhere near my closet.” I start to laugh, but it instantly turns into a moan when he starts to stroke me between my legs in earnest.

“Baby, you are always so wet for me.” He moves down my body, his hot mouth burning a path along my skin until he’s nestled between my thighs, licking and sucking me into oblivion. “Damn, you taste good,” he murmurs against my flesh.

I clutch at his hair, overwhelmed by the way this man makes me feel. How did I get so lucky? And it’s not only about the sex, though he certainly knows how to keep me satisfied.

“Max,” I whisper, thrusting my hips against his face. He looks up at me, his gaze intense, his tongue circling my clit as he sinks a finger inside me, and that’s all it takes. I’m shuddering, the orgasm slipping over me with ease as I cry out. I’ve never had more orgasms in my life as I do with him.

And I’ve never felt so loved, so cherished. And it’s all because of Max.

It’s the way he believes in me. Encourages me. Supports me when I need it and steps back when my freedom is necessary. His instincts are always spot on and I trust him. He still wants me to be a partner in his business and though I agree, it’s a huge step and one I’m not quite ready for.

Which he’s fine with. He doesn’t push. I appreciate that more than he’ll ever know.

He gets along with my sisters and Ryder and Caden. I’ve met his parents and I really like his mom and dad, though his big brother, Sam, is just as grumpy as Max warned me he would be. He’s a police detective in New Jersey, a giant bear of a man with a constant scowl on his face, though he’s almost as handsome as Max.

Almost. No one’s as gorgeous as Max, at least in my eyes.

“You are loud when you come, princess,” he teases as he rises above me, his boxer briefs somehow disappearing.

“I like the way you use your tongue, cowboy,” I tease back, sighing with pleasure when he kisses me deep, his tongue thrusting against mine.

“Speaking of cowboy, I think my girl needs to ride me,” he murmurs, and then he’s flipping me over so I’m straddling his hips, lifting up so I can take his big cock deep inside my body. “Ah, that’s it, baby. Start rocking.”

I do as he tells me, sliding up and down his cock slowly, rocking into him. I lift my arms and close my eyes, my body swaying as I gather up my hair and pile it on top of my head. I know he likes it when I do this. Putting on a show, thrusting out my chest, my breasts swaying with my movements.

“Pretty view,” he encourages as he runs his hands along my waist, over my stomach, then back up to cup my breasts. I drop my arms and open my eyes, smiling down at him, and then he’s shifting his position so he’s sitting up, his mouth on my nipples as he tongues and sucks first one, then the other.

A shuddery sigh escapes me and I cradle his head in my hands, breathless when he looks up at me with his beautiful blue eyes so full of affection and lust and love. All for me. I still can’t believe this man is mine. All mine. “Feels so good,” he murmurs. “I love the way you ride my cock.”

My * clenches around his length and his lids fall to half-mast, as he lets out a low groan. I grind against him, sending him so deep I swear he’s touching my very soul.