“And how would you do that? How would you protect yourself from me, for example, if I decided I wanted you?” He steps toward me again.
“You wouldn’t. I’m not worth risking your friendship with my brother.”
“You underestimate how much I want you, Lilly.”
My pulse goes wild again. Just when I was starting to recover from the memory of his hand in my hair, he grabs a strand between his fingers.
“Why?” I ask.
“What?”
“What is it about me that attracts you so much?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he walks to the door. I think he’s going to leave me standing here, but then he turns back. “Do you like the Hamptons?”
“What?”
“This whole travel obsession—do you just want a beach or are you actually looking for an escape?”
“A beach. And maybe a little fun. Why?”
“I have a house in the Hamptons. I can have it ready for you.”
“Hmm . . .I don’t know. The idea isn’t to be alone. I want to have fun. Start living.” I bite my lip, trying not to ask the question burning in my throat—but I do anyway. “Would you come with me?”
“Why?”
I shrug, like it’s no big deal. “Well, from what I understand about your agreement with Ethan, you’re sort of my . . .guardian while he’s gone. And if I remember the Hamptons right—some of my mom’s relatives had places there—the nightlife’s pretty wild. I plan to enjoy it, and maybe you’d be worried I’d do something reckless.”
I know I’m playing with fire. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what he said. That tension is still thrumming under my skin.
You underestimate how much I want you, Lilly.
I want to know how much. Even after my whole speech about not wanting to be just a body to a man.
I don’t plan on doing anything I’ll regret. I just want to push my limits a little.
“Don’t play games with me, Lillyana. You don’t know the rules.”
I hide a smile. “Maybe I’m starting to learn how to make my own.”
Chapter 17
When I woke up, there was a note from Amos on the table. It said he had to go away over the weekend but that someone would drive me to his beach house tomorrow.
Just like that—no questions, no discussion—he assumed I’d go along with his suggestion.
And he was right. I’ve decided to save the Caribbean for next summer.
Still, I keep thinking about that piece of letterhead paper.
Who even writes notes anymore?
The only conclusion I can draw is that he didn’t want me texting him. Maybe I’m too sensitive, but it felt like a clear “keep your distance.”
He didn’t say anything about going to the beach with me when he left my room yesterday.
I don’t even know why I teased him. Or maybe I do. Amos gets under my skin. Ever since I first saw him, I’ve had thisfantasy in my head—and to this day, he’s the only one starring in all my hot dreams.
