by Zara Cox
I cracked a little smile, watched her eyes drop to my mouth before she averted her gaze. The slow, torturous burn in my loins intensified. The wall I’d deliberately erected between us to help honor her wishes crumbled a little. I was tempted to give it a healthy kick, but deep down I knew she was right to want to keep things professional between us.
Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted to test my control just yet. Lily was as sensational as I imagined she would be. And that was with barely a taste.
“I know how to get the information I need,” I answered her question.
Her eyes narrowed. “Was that what you were doing tonight? Gathering information?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes it’s best to use honey, not vinegar.”
She nodded and turned toward the stairs.
“Are you going to bed?”
Her eyes met mine for a second before she looked away, the pulse at her throat picking up speed. She let go of the satchel to drag her fingers through her hair. At some point this week, she’d repainted her short nails a dark purple shade that looked almost black. Something about the way it contrasted against her shock-white blond hair raised my temperature.
“No. I was thinking of going for a swim. I need the exercise to...de-stress a little.”
Fuck, I had a dozen positions in mind to help her de-stress. And that was for starters. I forced the lid back on my runaway libido. “You nervous about tomorrow?” I asked.
She knew I was asking about Chance and tensed for a moment, and then she deliberately avoided the subject. “I shouldn’t be. The code is working perfectly. But...” She shrugged.
I’d been looking into Chance Donovan and had a few thoughts on the bastard CEO. But I didn’t want to add to her stress.
So, even though Lily in a sexy swimsuit and within touching distance was so not a good idea, I jerked my head toward the stairs anyway. “Go get changed. I’ll meet you in the living room.”
“Thanks,” she said, looking relieved that I’d let the matter drop.
I stayed at the bottom of the stairs, unable to take my eyes off her perfect ass as she sprinted upstairs. Yeah, I was a glutton for punishment.
That punishment increased a hundredfold the moment she entered the living room. My hand froze on the French doors, and I swallowed hard.
She was wearing a see-through black mesh T-shirt over a burnt-orange bikini. Two things struck me hard just then. First, that while her signature black suited her alabaster complexion, the dark orange was even more flattering, drawing attention to her pint-size perfection.
Second, that the wall I’d built to contain my insane attraction and strict rules didn’t stand a chance of staying up.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her eyes a little wide as she took in the joggers and T-shirt I’d changed into.
Fuck, no. “Sure.” I held the door open for her.
She walked past me, trailing light, sensual perfume that made me want to bury my face in her neck. Her back view was just as spectacular as her front, the tight globes of her ass barely contained in the bikini bottom.
A dangerously high percentage of blood rushed south, emptying my head of every thought except the one that fixated on what I wanted to do to her body. “How long do you need?” I croaked, dropping onto the lounger and hitching up one leg before she turned and saw the steel rod tenting my pants.
She paused at the edge of the pool and glanced over her shoulder. The setting sun’s rays worshipped her cheek, her arms, her stomach and thighs. “I normally swim a hundred laps. So...forty-five minutes?” she murmured.
“Yeah. Fine.” Wow, you’ll be drooling like a brain-dead idiot next.
She grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. A groan rumbled up my throat as she dove cleanly into the water with the smoothness of a practiced athlete.
It took twenty laps for me to get myself back under acceptable control. Of course she chose that moment to pause at the far end of the pool to smooth back her wet hair and slowly swivel her head until her gaze rested on me. Her lips parted as she sucked in air to regain her breath.
She didn’t utter a word. Neither did I. And yet, a thousand conversations passed between us.
Later, I would appreciate that this was the moment we both accepted that we were far from done with each other. That the rules and barriers and words we’d thrown up in an attempt to stop this sexual juggernaut stood no chance.
She clung to the edge of the pool for a full minute, her sexy green eyes never wavering from mine. Then with a lithe twist of her body, she dove underwater.
Every cell in my body wanted to join her. If for nothing else, to cool down before the top of my head blew clean off. But I stayed put, counted down her laps until she reached ninety-eight.
I jumped up, grabbed a towel from the stack next to the lounger and was waiting when she climbed the shallow steps.
Just like last time, delicious droplets clung to her skin. I wanted to lick each and every one off, then concentrate on licking her between her legs.
Instead, I held out the towel. Her eyes met and clung to mine as she accepted it and wrapped it around her body. “Thanks.”
My eyes drifted to the wet curl clinging to her cheek. Unable to resist, I smoothed it behind her ear, then went to retrieve her T-shirt.
“Let’s get you inside.” I didn’t give one tiny shit that my voice was a gruff mess. Or that my cock still stood at attention. I saw her eyes drop to it before, reddening, she glanced away.
She followed me inside and lingered in the living room as I locked the doors. “Drink?” I needed one badly before I did something foolish.
She passed the towel through her hair before lowering it. “Umm... I shouldn’t.”
I handed back her T-shirt. “That doesn’t sound like a definite no,” I said, then held up my hands. “But I’m not trying to corrupt you or anything so if you want to head up to bed, don’t let me stop you.” The breath trapped in my lungs told a different story to the words falling from my mouth. I wanted her to stay. Badly.
She dropped the towel on the coffee table and shook her head. “No. I’ll just lie in bed worrying about stuff. Or I’ll be tempted to tinker with the code some more. Bad idea,” she said with a laugh.
It was the first time I’d heard her laugh. The soft, tinkling sound hooked into me, feeding a need to hear more of it. “Okay, so what do you do to distract yourself?”
She looked away, fidgeted, then dragged the T-shirt over her head. “I normally read. Or watch a movie downstairs...”
It was an easy decision. “I vote for downstairs.” She had a bar down there, after all. “I’ll have a drink. You can join me. Or not.” I cocked an eyebrow.
The barest hint of a smile curved her mouth as her gaze touched on my brow. “I get to pick the movie.”
I shrugged. “Your theater, your choice. I’m just coming for the booze.”
Her smile widened a little more.
We went down together, her bare feet slapping lightly on the polished wood. I crossed to the bar shelves stacked with expensive alcohol. She went to the sweets stand and returned with a large cone cup filled with assorted candy.
She popped a pink marshmallow into her mouth, then held out the cup to me. I chose a jellybean and pointed it at her. “These things will rot your teeth.”
“Luckily I have an excellent dental plan.” Her sexy grin exhibited perfect teeth.
I refocused on pouring my bourbon. “You sure you don’t want anything?”
She inspected the row of drink bottles behind me. “Okay, I’ll have a lemondrop martini, please.”
I laughed. “You folded much easier than I thought you would.”
She plucked another marshmallow from her supply before placing the cup on the counter. “I rarely fix it myself because it never comes out right. You look...comfortable be
hind the bar, like you know what you’re doing.”
Our eyes met. Locked. “So this is a test?”
Her lips slowly parted. “Maybe.”
“And if I pass?”
Her gaze swept down for a moment before stunning green eyes met mine again. “I’ll let you help me pick the movie.”
I slowly set down the bourbon, biting my tongue against spilling what I really wanted for my prize. Hell, she knew it already. Knowledge flamed in her eyes. Whether she would choose tonight to do something about it was another matter.
I gathered the ingredients and watched her watch me fix her drink. I slid it across the counter to her, lifted my glass of bourbon and waited.
She picked up her glass, took a delicate sip. Her tongue slid across her bottom lip. My cock jumped. “It’s good.”
“Just good?”
Again, her eyes flicked to my raised eyebrow, and her mouth twitched. “Okay. It’s perfect.”
“You’re welcome.” I reached into the freezer, plucked out two ice cubes and dropped them into my drink. Anything to lower the inferno raging in my groin.
Grabbing her candy and drink, she hopped off the bar and headed for the red leather lounger with drink holders on either side.
Perfect for two.
On Saturday night, when another damned nightmare had ripped me from sleep, I’d wandered downstairs, heard the movie running and came to check on her. I’d toyed with waking her but with tensions running high, I thought it best to leave her alone. As I’d made her comfortable, she’d made a small, forlorn sound that ripped through me.
As I joined her now, questions crowded my mind. Asking more personal ones would mostly likely hurl us back onto the battleground. So I stuck to a less volatile one.
“I’ve ruled out most people on the list.” Including her ex. A discreet probe into Scott Wyatt’s activities showed he’d been mostly out of town in the weeks before the stalking started, and was currently engaged in a long-distance relationship with a new woman in Seattle. He was lucky he was out of my reach.
A trace of unease flitted over Lily’s face. “Okay. So who’s left?”
I paused. My answer could risk her acting differently around the people left on the list. “I haven’t been able to rule out Nordic Razor yet. Could he have seen what you were working on when you were online?”
She tucked her legs underneath her, rested sideways on the lounger, and took another sip of her drink. “No. I use a separate computer for social activities.”
I set my glass in the holder. “Why Q?”
“What?”
“Cipher Q. What does the Q stand for?”
She toyed with a damp strand of hair. “What do you think it stands for?”
“I thought it was Quantum. But I’m going with Queen,” I replied.
Her head dipped, that hint of shyness and innocence adding to her appeal. “It’s silly, I know. And vain. But...”
“But you wanted to feel empowered at a time when things felt out of control?”
Her mouth dropped open a few seconds before she shut it. “I don’t like it when you do that,” she murmured.
“Do what?” I asked gently.
“See...too much.”
“I won’t hurt you, Lily. Not with any information you give me. I can promise you that.”
After a moment, she nodded.
Grasping that tiny leeway, I probed softly, “How old were you when you started hacking?”
She looked a little trapped by my question, but she answered, “Thirteen.”
“I’m guessing it was your stepfather who made you feel...less?”
A shadow crossed her face and she remained silent for a long time before she nodded. “He was saddled with me after my mom left. Every now and then he would let me feel his displeasure.”
My fist tightened. “Did he hurt you?”
“Physically? No. In other ways...yes.”
I took a sip of bourbon just for something to do so I didn’t drive my fist through the wall behind me. “Tell me what he did.”
Her nostrils quivered as she sucked in a breath. “I don’t have all night.”
“Then tell me exactly how you got involved with Chance.”
“When I was fourteen, I hacked him. I was good back then, but I wasn’t great. He hired another hacker to find me, and turned up at my house with the cops. He gave me a choice, work for him or go to jail.”
“Your stepfather didn’t tell him to get lost, I take it.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Not when Chance started throwing money his way, he didn’t.”
She flinched at my tight curse. I reached across the counter and placed my hand on hers. She stared at it with a sad smile before she inhaled long and deep.
“Anyway, between them they hammered out a deal that he’d pay my stepfather a monthly fee for my maintenance, then my college tuition fees on condition that when I left MIT I’d devote all my time to developing something big for him.”
“The algorithm?” I asked, my chest and throat tight with the effort it took to keep my fury inside.
She nodded. “I had the beginnings of the idea back then.”
“Why didn’t you walk away when you turned eighteen or even twenty-one?”
Her lips tightened and she shrugged. “I gave him my word I wouldn’t.”
A simple answer, but such a powerful statement as to the true depths of Lily Gracen. I would’ve thought it impossible, but I grew even more attracted to her in that moment.
“And the Scott thing? How did you find out?”
She smiled unapologetically. “I hacked his phone records and confronted him.”
“How did Chance take it?” I realized I was searching for another reason to punch the guy’s lights out when I met him tomorrow.
“He claimed he was looking out for me. I called bullshit and threatened to walk then. He promised it would never happen again.” The information was coming out in charged little bites.
“Lily—”
She shook her head. “No more. You’re ruining the mood.”
I cupped her cheek, my thumb caressing her lower lip until she had herself back under control. “Don’t feel bad about letting me in. I know a little about how that feels like.”
Wide green eyes locked on mine. “Really?”
I heard the throb of pain in my voice and inwardly grimaced. I could’ve answered differently, thrown her off with a shrug or said nothing at all. Instead, the last word I expected to say surged from my throat. “Yes.”
She waited. Then a breath huffed out. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”
Curiosity swirled in her eyes, making my chest pound for a different reason. “Yes. I don’t want to ruin the mood, either.”
Her breath grew shaky. As did her hand when she raised her glass to take a healthy gulp. She stared at me for several heartbeats. Then, visibly shaking it off, she grabbed the remote and aimed it at the screen.
“Lowlights.” Her command activated the lights, dimming the overhead lights and leaving only a set of lowlights running along the floor.
Onscreen, the system had grouped her entertainment into genres and then favorites. She clicked favorites. A long list rolled down the screen.
“These are all your favorites?” I asked skeptically.
“Uh-huh.”
The title she clicked on caught my eye, and another raw memory spiked through me. “The English Patient?”
She glared at me. “It’s a classic.”
“If you want to weep into your martini glass the whole time then fall into a coma from boredom, sure.”
“You’ve seen it?”
My teeth clenched as I toyed with evading. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. It was my mother’s favorite, too.”
Naked, hesitant curiosity lit her eye
s. “Was?”
I threw back the remaining bourbon. What the hell... “She died. Fifteen years ago.” Because she fell through the cracks. Over and over again until she hit rock bottom and never rose. I swallowed my bitterness as Lily leaned closer.
“When you were fourteen?”
I jerked out a nod. Silence throbbed between us, then I indicated the screen. “Are we gonna watch this movie or what?”
Her head swiveled to the screen, then back at me. She held out the remote. “The deal was you could help me pick. You’ve vetoed my first choice. Show me what you got.”
I accepted it, allowing my fingers to graze hers. She exhaled sharply.
God, I wanted to feel that puff of breath on my face. Reluctantly, I turned to the screen. Surprisingly, only half of the movies were chick flicks. Top-notch detective movies and psychological thrillers had made the cut.
I frowned as the list kept going. “There are over a hundred here. How can they all be your favorite?”
She stared at me. “Is it too difficult? I can help you out if you want?” I caught a hint of teasing challenge.
I snorted and selected one.
She grimaced. “Uh, no. I love Bruce Lee but not tonight. The sound effects alone will give me a headache.”
I scrolled some more until she laid her hand over mine. “This one,” she breathed.
“Revenge?” It was the original movie with Anthony Quinn, Kevin Costner and Madeleine Stowe. I couldn’t remember the plot line but I’d probably seen it. Movies had been a huge escape for Mom the few times depression released her from its merciless talons. To be honest, they’d been an escape for me, too, because for a blessed stretch of two or three hours, I could stop worrying about her. She’d even summoned a laugh when we watched a comedy.
“Yes. It doesn’t have a high rating but I love it. Unless you want to find something else?”
I tore myself from the past. “This will do.” I hit Play and pointed to her empty glass. “Do you want another?”
She stared wistfully at the martini glass. “No, I better not. I’ll take a soda, though.”
I grabbed a soda for her and bottled water for myself. She broke the tab, curled her lip over the top and drank half the contents, while I forced myself not to stare at her throat.
