“Not between us,” he argued.
I drew a deep breath. “I really am fine. I’ve had the best time of my life tonight. The best. And I’m grateful for it. And the job. And the opportunity you’ve given me.” I meant every word. I really did.
“But? There’s a but coming.”
“But nothing,” I said. “I’m here to help you. You’re giving me the opportunity to pursue my dreams. What else is there?”
“All right, then. If you’re having so much fun, then act like it. The pouting version of you is unflattering.”
Sometimes I wondered if this man had a soul.
“Lily! There you aaare.” Franco stumbled into Mr. Cole. “It’s time for that dance nooow.”
“Franco,” Mr. Cole said in an overtly charming voice, “I’m sure Miss Snow would like to—”
“I’d love to dance, Franco.” I stood and took the man’s hand and pulled him to the crowded and chaotic dance floor. At first, I felt like a one-legged grasshopper—clumsy and awkward—but then Franco grabbed my hands and started making me do all kinds of crazy moves—a tango thing, a very bad waltz, and some other polka-esque bullcrap. I danced along. Horrible step for horrible step. I decided if I was going to be there, I might as well enjoy myself. Franco and I made another trip to the bar, and I pounded down my fourth glass of champagne—a lot for someone like me who rarely drank.
Roughly thirty minutes later, Franco disappeared to the men’s room while I stood by myself at the edge of the dance floor.
“You looked like a woman who knows how to have fun. Mind sharing a little of that with me?” said a man with a slight Italian accent. He was lean, nicely built and had brown hair and bright green eyes.
“I saw you earlier getting out of your limo. You’re an actor, right?” I asked.
“Yes, Patricio Ferrari.”
Oh. Like the car.
I extended my hand. “Lily Snow. I work for Cole Cosmetics.”
“Oh, do you now?” he said.
“I started this week, actually.”
“Well, Maxwell is a pompous asshole, but I won’t blame you for that.”
I like him already. “Thank you. So how do you know him?”
“Who doesn’t know the man? He’s almost as famous as me.” He leaned in. “But not nearly as good looking. Or fun.”
I laughed, and we took to the floor. Patricio was a little wild, his arms waving in the air, his ass wiggling all over the place, but he made me laugh and it was fun. I knew I’d landed in his “friend zone,” which was totally fine with me, but every time I glanced over across the crowded room, Mr. Cole’s eyes met mine. The irritating part was that he held Adeline Taylor’s hand.
I turned my back to him, deciding I needed a little dose of “grow the hell up.” When the fourth song came on and the music turned into some sexy tango-styled techno, Patricio wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me snugly to his body. Frankly, I wasn’t uncomfortable, but confused. Call me crazy, but this guy acted like he was hitting on me.
“You have the most stunning body I’ve ever seen, Lily.” He swayed from side to side while I stood still.
All right. He’s definitely hitting on me. “Uh…thanks?”
His hands slid down to cup my ass, pulling me into his crotch. There was something very hard there. “I think I’d like to see more of it.” He smiled with a charming grin.
Okay. Now this is awkward. But was it really? I didn’t have a frame of reference, considering no one ever hit on me. Not ever.
What would Danny do?
She’d crack a joke.
“I’m a decent and proper woman. So I only show my body to men who ask me to marry them first. You should see my collection of diamond rings.”
He laughed. “In that case…marry me.”
“Got a ring?”
“I’m sure I can get you one.”
“Make it outrageously big. Okay?”
He laughed. “I find you very refreshing, Lily. So unlike these other women here, obsessed with their looks.”
“Oh now, I bet you say that to all the girls.” The fugly ones.
“I don’t.”
I stopped moving and stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
I had to admit, I felt extremely damned flattered. Like…amazingly flattered. I wouldn’t go to bed with him, but I’d certainly ask for his number. That was what I was supposed to do right? Damn, I’m like in dating kindergarten.
“Thank you, Patricio. And I mean that from the very fiber of my being.”
He looked at me with a peculiar expression. “Why are you thanking me?”
I bit my lip and looked away, unable to feel the same candid comfort I felt with Maxwell Cole.
“Lily?” Patricio pushed.
“No one has ever—”
“Lily, it’s time to go.” Maxwell Cole stood next to us, straightening his tie in a manner that could threaten a matador.
I looked at him, then at Patricio, and again at Cole. “Sorry?”
“Krissy texted. She has the flu and isn’t coming.”
“And?” I asked expectedly.
His hard gaze didn’t waver. “And we have an early flight.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I dropped my hand from Patricio’s steamy grip.
“Thank you for the unforgettable night,” I said.
Patricio bobbed his head. “Likewise, Lily.”
“Miss Snow?” Mr. Cole’s voice was stern and angry. No, I didn’t understand why.
I flashed him a look. “Be right there, sir.”
Mr. Cole walked toward the door, and I took the opportunity to dig into my evening bag for one of my cards. “If you’re ever in Chicago?”
He took the card and shoved it into his pocket. “You will be the first person I call.”
I had to admit, the thought made me all bubbly. “Great. Don’t forget the ring.” I smiled and walked toward the doorway. The toxic vibe left behind by Mr. Cole stuck in the air all around me. When I arrived to the limo awaiting curbside, I found the world’s most irate man simmering in the backseat.
“What the hell is with you?” I fumed the moment the door closed.
It took only a second for the volcano to erupt, but it came, spewing its ugliness all over me. “What’s with me, Miss Cole, is your lack of discretion.”
“Are you referring to the fact that I danced with Patricio?”
“And Franco,” he added accusatorially, poking his index finger into the leather seat between us.
My mouth launched into the customary offended position. “Are you criticizing me for dancing?”
“Your behavior represents mine, Miss Snow.” He straightened his tie. “The public display of pelvic grinding isn’t an image I’d like my company to portray.”
Was that the real reason, because…“Your fondling that woman in the dark corner is all right, though?” Okay, she’d been fondling him, but still.
“You’re here for me. Not the other way around.”
“What the hell is the matter with you?” He was acting like some strange possessive dictator.
“Did I not just make that clear? I brought you to Milan to establish business connections, not to throw yourself at our clients or make a drunk ass out of yourself with men.”
Wow. Just…fucking wow. “So you think because you find me disgusting to look at, that it’s impossible for anyone to want me.”
He shook his head and glanced out the window, his jaw pulsing.
“I’m sure you’ll find this shocking,” I said, “but I wasn’t doing the hitting tonight; they were. Not everyone is hung up on my face or is trying to push me down for something I can’t help. It is possible for men to actually like me.” Although, that had not been my experience prior to tonight, and I still hardly believed any of it myself.
He turned his head to shoot me a furious look. “Is that really your aspiration—to be wanted for a quick fuck by a man like Patricio who scr
ews anything that walks? I thought you had higher goals in life, Miss Snow.”
What. The. Hell? I couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth. It was as if he’d abandoned all sense of rational thought. And where did he get off judging me like that? Or Patricio, for that matter?
“And now you’re angry because that guy wants to fuck me,” I fumed. “Seriously, Max? Seriously? How many women have you been with?”
He didn’t have to reply because his face said it all.
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “But you were my first. My first kiss, my first suck, my first anything, and I’ll point out that I’m still a virgin—which is pretty damned stupid given my age. So you’ll have to excuse me if I ignore everything that just came out of your pompous, self-righteous mouth. You have no clue what it’s like to be me or what it feels like to want things you’ll never have or to get a thrill from a little attention because I know in my heart that’s all I’ll ever get. So yeah, I wouldn’t mind a good-looking guy like Patricio taking me back to his place for a night of cheap sex.” I threw up my hands. “Sounds fucking awesome to me!”
He stared with a livid expression, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Don’t!” I pointed my finger in his face. “Don’t you dare get angry with me for wanting to be wanted.”
“I’m not,” he growled bitterly.
“Fuck you. Yes, you are.”
“I’m angry because I want you,” he barked.
I stopped breathing.
“How’s it possible, Lily?” he seethed, his hazel eyes filling with an unfathomable hardness. “How is it possible for me to want someone like you as much as I do?”
The mixed emotions poured in. He said he’d wanted me for more than “therapy,” and the thought struck me hard—pulse spinning out of control, skin tingling with excitement, my core producing an overwhelming sensation of throbs and aches begging for one thing and one thing only. Him inside me. On the other hand, the way he’d delivered the message—shock and disbelief that someone so great as him could genuinely want me—was a fucking insult. On the other hand—yes, I’ve got three hands—he was right; a man like him, with a stranger-than-hell phobia, feeling an attraction for me was pretty damned crazy. Or amazingly twisted and masochistic.
I swallowed the shock and excitement. “Someone really smart once told me that if I wanted something, I had to get my hands dirty.”
“You think it’s that easy?” he growled in a way that made his words sound more like “I already know that; don’t be an idiot,” which really made me mad.
“Yeah. I do,” I snarled back. “You big pussy.”
I don’t think I’d ever called a person that name for real—maybe just my brother in jest—but I’d definitely have to use it more often. Because I’d never seen a human being more pissed off as Mr. Cole was right then and there. Like he wanted to grab me and tear me a new one.
Finally! Something that gets under your skin. The “p” word!
“Don’t ever speak to me like that, Lily,” he said, his eyes narrowed on my face, his pulse ticking away on his neck.
But that only made me want to push his buttons harder. I wanted him to snap, explode, lose his cool polished exterior and show me a little of those uncivilized claws he’d tried to bring out in me.
I leaned in, staring into his sexy, fury-filled eyes. “I call it like I see it, Mr. Cole. And right now, I see a fucking coward. I bet the only reason you’re holding back is because you’re afraid I’ll laugh when your dick goes limp.”
“My dick is the least of my fears. But fine, you want a cheap, meaningless fuck. Then I’m going to take you back to your room and fuck you.”
“Fine,” I replied and looked away, folding my arms over my chest. “Can’t wait. I need a good laugh tonight.”
“I promise you won’t be laughing.”
The short, ten-minute ride back to the hotel felt like five seconds. Five. My mind kept replaying his words about me throwing myself at men and then him telling me I was wrong to want to be desired sexually, followed by his confession that he wanted me but was unable to believe it.
Asshole. I really hope he doesn’t get it up so I can shove it in his face. Of course, that wasn’t true. My angry body was on fire for him. Hot, wet, carnal tension aching away between my legs. Did I hate myself for wanting him inside my body so badly?
No. Not even a little. The chemistry was too powerful.
The elevator doors slid open on our floor, and I marched to my room with a furious looking, but silent, Mr. Cole on my heels. When I pushed the door open, he shoved me inside and slammed it shut. His mouth was on my neck, his hands were on my tits, his body pressed against me, grinding and thrusting rhythmically.
Yes, he was hard. Really hard.
It took a moment to realize he was going through with this because he wanted to fuck me as much as I wanted to reciprocate.
Panting, I reached for his shirt and ripped it open, letting my hands grab a feel of those pecs.
“God, you fucking drive me crazy, Lily,” he panted against my neck and then yanked my dress down, popping the hooks from their stitches, and shoved the garment to the floor.
We both froze for a moment while he pulled back and stared at my chest. “Dammit. I could fuck those tits.”
He dipped his head, bathing the tops of my breasts in kisses while he expertly unhooked my strapless bra. Soon to follow were his expert licks and adoring sucks while I ran my hands through his thick short hair, pushing his mouth into my chest. I’d never had my nipples sucked, but I guessed that if a hundred guys had been put to the task, none of them would’ve compared to his swirling tongue and hot mouth.
He removed his lips and replaced them with his hands, massaging and pinching, while his hips ground and his mouth sucked the skin from my neck like a juicy buffalo wing.
“I want you, Lily. I fucking want you,” he panted, pinning my body against the wall like his personal dry-hump station.
I didn’t know the words to express my lust, but my body did. I shoved my hands down to his pants and ripped him free. He felt so hot and hard in my hands that I had to fight the urge to buckle at the knees and take him in my mouth again.
Before I could have my way, he yanked down my panties and bodychecked me to the wall, panting and kissing me like a hungry animal.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard that your dirty mouth won’t know what to say.”
“Do it,” I demanded. I was ready. So damned ready I was losing my mind.
With my thong now gone and his pants down, his arms reached down to my thighs and lifted me. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, feeling the tip of his shaft rubbing against my bud. Good God, he felt so good. He then reached under, gripped his cock in his hand, and found my ready entrance.
There were no words for what came next.
He thrust, but much too slowly, as if testing my readiness. But I didn’t want that. I’d always been a “rip the Band-Aid off” sort of person. Because nothing was worse than anticipating pain.
“I said ‘do it,’” I demanded, my tone egging him on before I lost my nerve. Or started thinking.
He hesitated for a moment, but then he gave me what I wanted. He slid all the way in with one smooth, firm stroke.
I screamed toward the ceiling, my body protesting from the painful, delicious intrusion. “Don’t fucking stop,” I said through my gritted teeth.
He withdrew and thrust again.
I moaned loudly, trying to process how the pain and pleasure felt like one giant sensation all scrambled together. He felt so good. So hard. So unrelenting.
“More,” I panted. “More.”
Still pinning me against the wall, I realized he’d been going easy on me.
His lips kissing my neck, his hips pounded into me, his balls slamming, his chest slapping, his arms flexing and holding me in place. I hung on tight, accepting the fact that the sexual pleasure of having Maxwell Cole unleash his lust on my body
trumped any virginal pain I might be experiencing.
“Fucking hell, you feel so good.” He fucked his words into me.
I was so close I couldn’t speak.
“Come on, Lily, scream for me.” He pumped hard, and I realized he was waiting like a gentleman for me to come.
This was where my rational mind began to return and mingle with my sinful soul. Maxwell Cole’s hard, thick cock was inside my body, sliding and thrusting. He was likely ambivalent to the emotional impact of having just taken my virginity. Yet, he wanted this moment to be for me. That’s also when I realized he hadn’t put on a condom. It hadn’t even occurred to either of us. Lucky for him I was on the pill for nonsexual reasons, but it really was luck. Because this man had completely overridden my rational mind, and I’d overridden his. All I wanted was to fulfill this unyielding carnal need to feel him come inside me. I couldn’t explain it, and there was no excuse in this day and age, but it was what I wanted. Him. Me. Raw. And knowing his lust for me had made him just as reckless made me feel ten times more desired.
As these strange thoughts passed through me, I felt the sinful need building. I rocked my hips into him, and he pumped away at a ravenous pace, our naked bodies simultaneously giving and taking.
Then a big build started.
“Yes. Don’t stop, Max. Don’t stop,” I screamed his name as my body bucked and ground.
“Never. Fucking hell, never.” He hit hard, those biceps flexing, those abs contracting, those pecs protruding. Every inch of his sensual body was on display for my pleasure.
He rocked himself faster. “I’m going to come. Tell me you’re ready.”
Aspirational thoughts of prolonging the moment entered my head, but it wasn’t meant to be.
I came, my nails digging into his shoulders, my head pushed back while he hammered me like a nail into the wall.
It was a glorious, carnal moment of two people fornicating like animals. And when he’d pumped his last jet of cum inside me, groaning my name in a low, gravelly voice, my last orgasmic contraction subsided, and I knew I’d made a mistake.
No. Not just because he was my boss, but because he’d felt so good, so right.