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by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff


  I could tell he liked it and was close already because as he pushed forward again, burying himself fully inside me, his grip on my hips tightened. “God, you feel so good, Lily.”

  Now that I’d warmed up a little, I wanted him to show me exactly how good. “Don’t hold back.”

  He didn’t need me to twist his arm, because the force of his next thrust jarred my body forward, forcing me to press my palms to the wall. With the entire weight of his body, he pounded into me, his hips slapping against my ass. With the stamina of a wild beast, he went on and on and I never wanted it to end.

  “Fucking hell, Lily, you feel so goddamned good. I can’t get enough of you.”

  The sound of his deep husky voice pushed me closer to my own release. And when he bowed his large body over me, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades and cupping my breast, I couldn’t wait anymore. I reached down with one hand and stroked myself, immediately feeling the hard waves of sinful contractions paralyze me. God, what you do to me Max.

  Max’s head fell back, his face tilted toward the ceiling, as he came inside me with sharp little thrusts. “Fuck, Lily. Oh fuck.” His tense body ground against me while my mind floated away.

  After several moments, he dropped his head between my shoulder blades again, and I felt his panting chest matching my own vigorous breaths.

  “I could do this all day with you, Lily.”

  Still panting, I said, “Fine by me, but you’ll have to feed me eventually. Or I won’t be able to keep up with you.” He was an animal. Completely insatiable. I loved it.

  “I’ll feed you anything you want,” he said. “Just don’t leave.”

  It felt like a sincere plea from his heart. Or maybe it was his sexy afterglow talking. I wasn’t sure, but I knew I wanted to stay with him, too. It was the fear of what was to come that had me wanting to run.

  He withdrew, and I turned around, reaching for his neck to pull his lips to mine. His mouth moved in lazy, sated strokes.

  Then a thought struck me, and I pulled back, staring him in the eyes. “Max?”

  “Yes?” His tone indicated he thought I was up to something.

  “You do realize you haven’t looked away from me since yesterday.” Not once.

  He made a little blink, perhaps surprised. “I think it’s because when I look at you, I see us. And we’re beautiful together.”

  I slid my hands to his cheek. “Now that’s the sweetest, corniest thing I’ve ever heard.” And it genuinely melted my heart. “Please say it again.”

  It turned out that Max was just as bad of a cook as I was. Nevertheless, between the two of us, we managed to whip up some banana pancakes in his huge chef’s kitchen with gleaming white-speckled granite countertops, stainless steel indoor grill, and a panoramic window with a view of the lake that bathed the space in warm, cheery light. My favorite part of the morning, however, wasn’t the view of the lake. It was his unstoppable smile. Okay. That, and he wore absolutely nothing underneath his apron and every time he turned around, his adorable, perfectly round ass cheeks peeked out below that broad, muscled, smooth back.

  After we ate on the patio, just outside the kitchen—and no, he did not put on clothes (so hot)—I borrowed some mouthwash and a spare toothbrush and we took yet another shower. I honestly felt like I couldn’t get enough of him—his body pressed against mine, his hot kisses, his strong hands holding me to him.

  After another slow session of long drawn-out orgasms, we lay in his bed again, facing each other. He didn’t take his eyes off me.

  “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Yes, Miss Snow, I am.”

  “Good.”

  “And I’ll enjoy it even more once the drama is put behind us,” he said.

  That got me thinking. “You seem so confident that this will all shake out in your favor.” And in mine.

  He ran his finger from that hollow at the base of my neck and trailed it down between my breasts. “That’s because I am.”

  “What if you’re wrong?” I asked.

  “I’m never wrong. And the moment she publishes that book, I’ll prove her wrong.”

  I didn’t like this one bit. “How?”

  He looked away.

  “Uhhh…what was that?” I said, sitting up.

  “What?”

  “You looked away. What are you planning?”

  I looked down, and the worst possible thoughts trickled through my head. “Are you planning to use me?”

  “What? Fuck no. Lily, I would never…” He sat up, gripped my shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I’m an asshole, but not a heartless one. I would never hurt you like that.”

  I released a mental sigh. Okay, it had been a completely ridiculous thought. Shame on me for even thinking it. “Then tell me.”

  He didn’t want to. I could see it in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can at the moment; I’m too busy focusing on not spanking the hell out of you for that last comment.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t be a barbarian.”

  “I thought you liked the alpha male in me,” he countered.

  I glared.

  “Fine. No spanking,” he conceded. “But do you honestly believe I built a multibillion-dollar company by winging it? Or not knowing how to manage the media?”

  Well, when he put it like that. “No. I guess not.”

  “Then trust that I’ve got it covered. I’ve got a team of people ready to deal with this. Not only will that book be laughed at, but it will be used to sell millions of dollars of product.”

  I didn’t like the feel of this. He was going to lie. Of course, he’d been backed into a corner and the truth was something very personal. Nancy Little intended to violate his privacy for revenge. An unjustified revenge. But how could this possibly end well? I didn’t see it.

  “I know that look,” he said. “You’re judging me and about to say something negative.”

  How did he know? “I just don’t want you—us—to get hurt.” Because at the end of the day, he was a good person. And I certainly didn’t deserve this either.

  “I will protect you. Your career will be fine. Everything will work out. Now, can I take you to collect some clothes?”

  “Why? You’re cured now. Intensive therapy is over.”

  “Because I want you. Here. In my bed.”

  I liked the sound of that. “Fine. Twist my arm. But can we go for a run when we get back?”

  “Are you going to jog topless again?” he asked.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Do you have any idea how badly that image tortured me? I couldn’t stop seeing your bouncing breasts in my head for weeks.”

  I gave him a sly look. The idea of him pining away for me was too much. “I’ll run topless if you do.”

  He laughed. “Deal.”

  ~~~

  Monday morning at the office was sexual torture. No frigging way would we be maintaining a professional relationship at work, which meant something had to give.

  I should’ve known.

  For starters, on Sunday, we had gone back to my place for some clothes, fucked in my room, and then returned to his house to go at it again until we were spent, but not sated. When we left his house exhausted in the morning, and he’d insisted on driving in together in his new black Porsche Panamera, I was unable to resist his uncharacteristic, dopy grin.

  “I can drive myself. I promise,” I’d said.

  “You slept one hour. Let me drive,” he’d argued.

  “You, too.”

  “Yes, however, I run a global company. I’m used to it.” He gave me his first puppy-dog look.

  Yes, I melted.

  “Fine. You drive,” I said. My first mistake.

  Then I told him to drop me off two blocks from the building before parking in the garage next door. He refused, kissed me at a stoplight until I couldn’t think straight, and proceeded to do what the hell he pleased: parking where he always parked.

&
nbsp; Okay. No big deal. No one from the office has seen us together. But it felt like he wanted us to be seen.

  Or didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  Walking to our building, I frowned at the beautiful man, awestruck by his extreme happiness, and knowing how long he’d waited for this moment—to finally feel free. Which made me happy, too. He could basically ask anything of me, and I would agree.

  On the elevator ride up to our offices, we were alone, and he mauled me for twenty blissful seconds—tongue, hands, grinding action—the works—until we got to my floor.

  “For lunch, I’m going to fuck you in my office so hard,” he’d whispered, “you’ll forget your name.”

  I staggered out of the elevator with red lips, my hair half fallen from the bun I’d carefully put into place, and my white fitted blouse half untucked.

  Yes, I got plenty of looks from my coworkers, most assuming I’d just staggered in from a night of partying and getting laid. They were only half right.

  Then came the monthly staff meeting. When I was supposed to be paying attention, all I could do was stare at my boss and think about the multitude of ways he’d licked me, sucked me, and penetrated me over the past two days. I’d counted fourteen orgasms. Fourteen. And I had the sore body to show for it. I’d literally zoned out through a thirty-minute marketing presentation on their new tropical-color trends because I was too busy fantasizing about Max—who, by the way, made it no secret that he did not approve of my blatant ogling and drooling.

  Okay, so now he wanted to draw a line?

  But if looks could talk, his said “I’m not a piece of meat. Stop staring at me like that.” To which I replied, “Yeah, you are. And no, I won’t.”

  When it was my and Mike’s turn to present our recommendation for the new tween line of makeup, Max’s sharp hazel eyes stuck to my face, creating even more of a distraction. To the world, he was merely paying attention. To me, he was showing me how much he really wanted me.

  In summary, we both failed the “keeping work and personal life” separate. And for anyone who thought that I’d been an ass to even attempt such a feat, I’ll simply say…

  Yep!

  Sure, there were plenty of examples of spouses or couples being coworkers, but this situation was wholly different, excluding the fact that he was my boss and ran the company. The truth was, we’d both been starving for this—whatever “this” was—and now that we had it, it felt like a drug.

  After the monthly meeting, I left as quickly as I could, feeling an overwhelming panic wash over me. Nothing about this situation felt right, but everything about it felt good. I couldn’t control myself.

  “Lily?” There was a light knock on the doorjamb of my open office door.

  Mike’s blue, blue eyes and charming smile glowed in my direction.

  “Mike, hi. How was your weekend?”

  “Great.” He approached with all the confidence in the world and partially sat on my desk. “Nursed a nasty hangover on Saturday and got in a few rounds of golf on Sunday. What about you?”

  “Same.” Why had I said that?

  “You didn’t seem drunk.”

  “After. I got drunk when I got home.” No, that didn’t sound trashy at all. It was also a complete lie. What’s the matter with me?

  “Oh. And how was golf? I didn’t know you played.”

  “Did I say golf? I meant shopping. Same thing.” I’m an idiot. Need sleep.

  He raised his brows. “I suppose both involve a lot of walking.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So,” he bobbed his head, “I was wondering if you were free tonight? I know Monday isn’t a typical dinner-date night, but—”

  “Mike,” said a serious voice from just outside the doorway, “would you mind giving Miss Snow and me a moment?”

  Mike looked at Max in his black power suit with his hazel eyes throwing off some serious angry tones.

  “Yeah, sure, Mr. Cole,” Mike said uncomfortably and then looked straight at me. “Let me know what you think.”

  “Lily is busy tonight, I’m afraid,” Mr. Cole said. “She’s behind on a special project.”

  I pasted on a polite smile, trying not to stampede Max with my womanly self-righteousness. “He’s right, Mike. I can’t tonight. But I’ll check my calendar.”

  Mike left, obviously sensing something was off.

  Max shut the door behind him. “You’ll check your calendar?”

  I gave him a look. “What did you expect me to say? Let me check with Mr. Cole’s cock, and I’ll let you know?”

  “Would’ve worked for me,” he said in a pissy tone.

  I tilted my head. “You can’t seriously be jealous.”

  He leaned over my desk. “Of course I can be, Lily. You’re mine. And I don’t like other men looking at what’s mine.”

  I’d never experienced this feeling before—a guy getting territorial over me. Part of me really liked it. The other part didn’t. “But I’m not really yours. Not as far as everyone else is concerned, which leads me to the point—”

  “We’re leaving for a few days. I’ll have my driver, Callahan, take you home to pack the appropriate attire.”

  I blinked at him. “Sorry?”

  “I can’t focus on work. Not knowing you’re here, suffering and in need of a good fucking.”

  My jaw dropped. “Well—okay…that’s ta-ta-true, but I really have stuff to do.”

  “And it can wait for two days.”

  “It can’t,” I argued, feeling like he was the bad boy trying to convince me to skip class. “People are depending on me.”

  “I need this, Lily. And I think you do as well.” He paused for a long moment. “What if I ask your boss for permission?”

  I folded my hands neatly on top of my desk. “Max—”

  “Liiily?” he warned.

  “Max?”

  “Liiily?”

  I grunted at him and then smiled. I couldn’t help it. He was too sexy to deny.

  He folded his arms over his broad chest, flashing a bit of shiny silver cuff link. “If I can blow off a few days of work for you, and it’s my company, I’m sure you can accommodate.”

  I sighed. He totally won me over. “Fine. Where are we going?”

  “I have a little house in Kauai. It’s very private.”

  That sinful, mischievous look in his eyes did me in. The thought of the things he would do to me…

  “All right.”

  “Good. I’ll have Keri reschedule your meetings to next week. Callahan is waiting in the lobby.”

  “You knew I’d say yes?” I asked.

  “I can sell ice to an Eskimo, remember?”

  Yes, I did. He’d “sold me” on doing all sorts of things last night, and I’d loved every minute of it.

  “I’ll go pack,” I said.

  He leaned toward me for a quick kiss. “Bring your running shoes, Miss Snow.”

  “A marathon, I hope?”

  “Absolutely,” he replied.

  But why did I feel like we were really running away?

  ~~~

  His “little house” in Kauai was a two-story, modern glass rectangle on stilts with a private beach, views of the ocean from almost every room, and thick jungle on all three sides. Automatic blinds and tinted windows provided privacy when wanted. Otherwise, I felt like we were outside, enjoying the breathtaking, natural surroundings. But with air-conditioning.

  That first night—Monday—we arrived just before midnight in his private jet, and we swam naked in the ocean, kissing and touching and grinding away in the warm water, feeling like the only two people on earth. We concluded under the dark moonless sky with sex on the beach. No, not the drink. Real sex. In the soft warm, night sand. Aside from the piles of grit left in my hair, it was fucking raw and sexual in a way I couldn’t have imagined.

  After we showered, ate sandwiches, and covered ourselves in bug spray, we headed back outside (clothed in shorts and tees) to sit around a gas fireplace on the
patio, where we fell asleep in each other’s arms on a lounge chair.

  The sunrise that next morning, snuggled in his arms, was more beautiful than anything I could dream up. I kept thinking that it was too perfect. This couldn’t be real. Him, me, us. We were too happy and too ready to let go of everything that had ever mattered to us for a few precious days of living in this dream.

  Yet, knowing it couldn’t last, I convinced myself we had to take this chance. We weren’t simply in paradise, snorkeling in the crystal clear blue waters, stealing kisses every chance we got, or enjoying the isolation, we were hiding in heaven.

  Tuesday night, as I sat staring at the fire outside, slathered in a thick coating of mosquito repellent, still wearing my white bikini from our early swim in the ocean that seemed too beautiful to be a real place on earth, I felt reality seeping through the cracks, its darkness creeping into our safe haven and threatening to poison our paradise.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, handing me a chilled glass of white wine. He wore a white shirt and white linen shorts that made his skin look even darker than it was. That man knew how to tan. I looked more like a strawberry milkshake.

  Staring into the fire, I shrugged and then sipped my wine. “I don’t want it to end.” But it would.

  “Lily, you know we can’t stay on vacation forever.”

  “Says who?” I asked.

  He gave me a look. “Says the people who depend on us.”

  Now who’s being the responsible adult? “No one really depends on me.”

  “I do. And there are thousands depending on me.”

  I nodded, the quiet crackle of the fire mixing with the sound of the evening waves. “I wish it was different.”

  “You’d never be happy sitting on a beach the rest of your life.”

  “How do you know?” I could give it a try.

  “Because you’re like me; you have something to prove to the world.”

  “But what happens when we prove it?” I asked.

  He looked at me, genuinely thinking. “I don’t know. Maybe we find peace.”

 

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