The Billionaire’s Naughty List (Cam Show Crush)

5. Lily

5

LILY

This is easily the weirdest conversation I've ever had. And that includes the bizarre birds and the bees convo my older brother started that my poor dad had to finish. Not that I didn't grow up seeing cows and dogs and pretty much every other animal on the ranch mating.

It's not that this conversation is uncomfortable, but because I'm fully clothed. In a shower. With the man who I thought I could never have. The man who told me there could be nothing between us. And as much as I hated it, I pushed my feelings for him down deep and kept on with my life. Because that's what good girls do. Right?

But here he is, telling me that my feelings aren’t imaginary. That I’m not dreaming this connection between us. That he does, in fact, want me the way I want him.

The Dad problem still remains, though.

I mean, my father and I don't really talk about dating and partners and stuff like that. Not since the previously mentioned weird birds-and-bees discussion. Honestly, it's a miracle I didn't turn out to be a total tomboy.

I'm sure Dad expects me to settle down and pop out a few kids. Someday. Because again, that's what good girls do.

My lips part as I stare at Elliot, a vision of sweet little babies with his eyes and my nose and the cutest little grins?—

I shake my head. That's a dangerous line of thought. This whole thing is dangerous. Mostly to my heart.

"Lily—" he prods from his spot at my feet.

Right. He asked a question. Why am I on OnlySantas?

"Sorry. Lost in thought." Which is not unusual for me.

"You could show me."

Now my ears are failing me because there’s no way he just said ‘show me.’

"What?"

"If you won't tell me why you're on the site, show me what you do there."

How does he make that statement sound both earnest and mischievous at the same time? The corner of his mouth pulls up in a sexy smirk. Does he know what that little hitch does to me? It's such a small expression, subtle to everyone, perhaps, but me. I see the subtext because I've seen it before, hoping every time I was reading it right. A flirt without flirting. A question without questioning.

His cellphone rings a familiar tune and we both freeze.

"That's my dad," I whisper-yell.

Unease settles in my stomach, which is weird because I've thought of being with Elliot a thousand times and never once did my mind consider how weird it'd be if my dad interrupted us.

Elliot’s lips twitch. "Let me worry about him."

Oh…that's so sexy. Confidence radiates off him and my shoulders drop from my ears. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good to be taken care of.

I nod. "Okay…"

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone as he steps out of the shower.

"You're going to talk to him right now?"

What about our conversation? What about the touching and the heat in his eyes?

I sag with disappointment and confusion.

“Hold that thought, kitten.”

I watch, jaw dropped slightly, as he taps the screen and lifts the phone to his ear. “Hey Colt.”

All my breath leaves me, because watching him is so much more erotic when I’m standing in his shower, my outfit leaving nothing to the imagination. He’s talking to my dad but his gaze is locked on me.

“Yeah, I was just getting into the shower. Oh? I hadn’t seen?—”

Gosh, he’s handsome. Nothing like the rugged cowboys I grew up around, but just as capable on horseback. My gaze skips over his broad shoulders to where his shirt is plastered to his torso. Then down to his hips where I want to wrap my legs around and hold on tight.

There’s no mistaking the bulge behind his zipper.

My pussy clenches. Needy little hussy.

Was he serious about showing him what I do on OnlySantas?

“Mhmm. Yeah, no, just arrived myself.” He glances to the window over the bathtub and I follow his gaze in the mirror. “Yeah, it’s picking up.”

The more I think about it, he didn’t seem mad about OnlySantas, but rather curious.

I slide my hands down my thighs and gather the material, hiking it a few inches. His attention swerves back to me and I swear I feel his gaze like an actual touch. Like his fingers and lips move across my skin, heating every inch.

This feels similar to the rush I get when I go live, but it’s so much…more.

Because this is Elliot.

And there’s no mistaking the look on his face as he watches me pull my dress just high enough to make him wonder what I’m wearing beneath.

“What was that?” he says, clearly missing what my father said.

I smirk and pull the soggy velvet higher, flashing a peek of my panties.

He inhales sharply.

Emboldened, I hook my thumbs over the edge of my panties and start pushing them down. The skirt of my dress follows my hands, sliding down around my thighs.

Impatience rolls off him, making his answer short and clipped.

When the red satin and lace panties hit the floor, I step out of them and kick them to the side. Then I hold my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do.

He doesn’t disappoint.

“Yeah. Looking forward to it. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything here. Travel safe.”

He disconnects the call without looking at his phone because his eyes never stray from mine. He’ll take care of everything here? There’s a note in his voice that says that statement includes me.

I shiver despite the heat of the shower.

My strong independent side turns up her nose at the idea of being taken care of. But even she melts under Elliot’s gaze as he steps back to the shower, phone forgotten. I watch him through the spray of the rain showerhead and my heart thumps against my ribs.

I finally have all his attention. And not the platonic kind.

This is the heated look a man gives to a woman, the look I’ve dreamed about for years. Long before I ever looked at Elliot that way, I wanted the kind of passionate, all-consuming relationship that people write stories about. I want a love that my grandkids will revere.

Taking a deep breath, I nod. This isn't a topic I thought I'd ever discuss with him.

I close my eyes, because I can't look at him and form complete sentences at the same time. But we need everything out in the air if we’re going to take the next step.

"I'm saving money for my business," I say carefully.

"You know I'd give you the money." His voice is raspy with disbelief and something darker.

"Dad offered," I say quickly. "But I wanted… I need to do it myself."

"Why…this?" He traces a finger down my side. Such a teasing touch.

As if my nipples needed to be any harder, crying, begging, pleading for attention.

His attention.

Only Elliot's attention will do.

That's what terrifies me.

I open my eyes and stare up at him.

"I'm saving as much as I can, as quickly as I can, and people like my content. It's all frosting. My day job pays my bills but the pictures…"

He crowds me against the wall, caging me in.

"Right. They're frosting."

I'm so wet and it has nothing to do with flying ass over tits into a lake. It's the way Elliot gently kisses my forehead, as if he can't help himself. Can't hold back a second longer, but is unsure of his welcome.

"Are you mad?" I whisper, because suddenly this is all so real and his opinion has always carried so much weight with me.

"No, kitten, I'm not mad. Disappointed that you didn't come to me. That you didn't let me help you. But I understand why you didn't."

I nod, then blink up at the man I measure all others against.

It's no wonder my dating life is nonexistent. I've always been judging everyone and finding them lacking. They're all rulers and he's a yardstick.

I lick my lips because, despite the steam, I feel parched. "How did you know I was here?"

He drops to his knees again, moving to my other leg, rolling down the stocking, lifting my foot. I’m keenly aware of the fact that I’m no longer wearing panties. He knows it. I know it. My muscles tremble with anticipation.

He smirks, looking way too handsome for my own good. "I get a notification any time someone enters this place." He wiggles his wrist, showing off his watch.

Oh.

I guess I should have figured that. He loves his technology.

"So how close are you to your goal?"

And that's what I love about him. It's not how far away I am. It's how close. Because he's nothing if not optimistic.

"Ten thousand or so."

He nods, kisses my knee and then stands.

I swear I'm going to swoon. Maybe I'm overheated now. Something. I just— he?—

"So here's the plan," he says, taking my hands, "you're going to forgive me for being a dumbass."

He lifts my hands and presses a kiss to my knuckles.

Maybe I hit my head on a rock out there.

Did I drown? Is this heaven?

I'm either dreaming or dead, because I've only seen this look in Elliot's eyes in my dreams.

Desire. Pining. A plea.

He's got a bit more silver in his sideburns than the last time I saw him. But he's still handsome as always. Even in a soaked shirt and ridiculously sexy, dark jeans.

"And we're going to start again,” he continues. “But this time, I'm going to kiss you."

"That's it? Elliot, I don't want some careful relationship with kisses and then you send me off to?—"

He moves like lightning, dropping my hands, cupping my cheeks and pressing his lips to mine.

My lashes flutter closed and I grab at the wet layers of his clothing, needing to be closer. He takes control, pouring everything into this language. Where words are no longer necessary.

Warm, firm lips move against mine. His breath on my cheek. His body pressing into me. Learning, exploring, teasing past my lips with his tongue.

Pleasure pulses through me and my body goes soft, needy. I slip my fingers beneath the sodden fabric, searching for his skin, needing more connection. As soon as I feel those scorching muscles, my ire floats away on the steam and swirls down the drain.

Oh my god, this is heavenly.

And wild.

And crazy.

He still has his boots on.

I grin, and he lifts his head.

"What's put that smile on your face?"

"You." I huff a laugh. "You're wearing boots in the shower."

"I'd wear boots in the pool so long as it means I can kiss you."

I grin at him, delighted by his zaniness. His smile is wide, full of joy and humor. I love that about him just as much as I love that we can laugh together.

His dark gaze drops to my lips again and my stomach does that swoopy-swirly thing. Almost as if it had never been, his humor fades and seriousness takes hold again. Heavens help me, they're both good looks on him. Both make me tingle with need and wet with desire.

He tugs my hips forward until there's no denying the hard length trapped between us. "There's nothing chaste about this, Lily," he says, his rough voice reminding me of my earlier plea. "Let me wipe away that notion right now. I want to fuck you in every room of this house. Twice on the porch. I want your scent all over me so I can fill my lungs with you whenever I want. I want your toothbrush next to mine and your clothes in my closet."

Wow.

Wow. Wow. Holy wow.

That's— that's so sweet and serious and I fling myself into his arms. Happiness is a living, breathing beast inside me, ready to burst out. I kiss his throat, his jaw, over to his chin, then his lips.

He touches me all over. Hands gliding down my sides to cup my ass. I hike a leg up over his hip and he wastes no time rocking that glorious erection against my clit.

I pull my lips away, sobbing a breath, as my eyes roll back.

"Elliot—"