Page 45
As he made his escape, he caught Lily’s eye and motioned with his head for her to follow. Joanie and Felicia appeared to be engrossed in conversation—the perfect chance for Lily to make a break for it.
He disappeared around the corner and waited.
The Cameron house was a massive structure. Marcus had been there about nine hundred and forty-three times, so he knew his way around, over, and through each and every part of it.
The huge kitchen had been updated with a modern island in the center of the room with a sink and cabinets for storage. Then there was the addition of the walk-in pantry that he’d helped Clive design while sitting at this very breakfast bar. The pantry had not only been for food storage but featured a glassed-off humidor for cigars and a wine fridge that was a vintner’s wet dream.
He lingered in front of the pantry’s double doors and waited for the telltale click of Lily’s heels on the wooden floors.
“Marcus?” she whispered as she rounded the corner.
He reached for her hand, opened one of the doors, and pulled her inside with him.
He backed her against the wine fridge a second later and fused his mouth with hers. She tasted like crisp white wine—apples, lemon, and…something else.
Lily. She tasted like Lily, he realized.
He’d tasted her at the mansion and in his bed the following morning. He’d had his third taste at the end of the block. That had only made him want her more. Kissing her was exactly what he needed. Her palms went to his chest, her touch burning down to the soles of his dress shoes.
He came up for air, and she said, “I’m about to fake a burst appendix.”
“Joanie would insist on driving you to the hospital,” he reminded her as he grabbed her ass.
“I know.” She toyed with a button on his dress shirt. “What about you, can you fake something?”
“Not me, baby. I’m one hundred percent real.”
She grinned and then shocked the hell out of him by cupping his junk with one hand. His semi was becoming a full-on. And fast.
“Yep,” she purred. “That’s real, all right.”
She unbuckled his belt. “Since we’re being held prisoner here, I guess we’ll have to improvise.”
“How much have you had to drink?” he asked, bemused. This wasn’t the Lily he knew—but damn if he didn’t like this version even more.
Who knew it was possible to like her more?
“It’s been a long week, Black.” She unzipped his pants, plunged her hand into his boxers, and stroked his cock.
“Oh, fuck, yes. It has.”
She shushed him. “We don’t want to get caught.”
He nodded his agreement. Blood roared in his ears as she stroked him again. The contrast of her soft touch and the light bite of her short nails nearly had him coming in her hand.
She backed him against the shelves. He heard the contents of boxes and containers shift behind him, but nothing fell—not yet. In the dark pantry, his senses were heightened like they had been at the mansion.
She tugged his pants and boxers to his thighs as he held on to the shelf behind him. In the sliver of light beneath the door, he watched her lower to her knees in front of him.
Yes. Please.
He felt the tip of her tongue flick over the head of his cock. He dropped his head back and conked his skull on a stack of cans.
“You okay?” she whispered up at him.
He rested his hand on her cheek. “Better than okay. Kiss me, beautiful.”
He felt her smile against his flesh before she wrapped her perfect lips around his penis and drew him deep into her mouth.
