The Dare Collection June 2019. Rachael Stewart
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eyes darkened with quiet fury. ‘Don’t call me darling.’
‘Why? Does it remind you of Boston?’ I dared because one of us had to acknowledge this entity threatening to consume me alive. And as much as she’d pretended otherwise, I’d seen her checking me out all week when she thought I wasn’t looking. ‘Does it remind you of when you begged me to make you come, darling? Make that tight, wet pussy even wetter with my tongue before I pounded you into a screaming orgasm?’
A deep blush stained her cheeks and her fork clattered to the table. With adorably uncoordinated movements, she called over the waiter, snapped open her purse and handed over her credit card. ‘I think I’ve lost my appetite.’
‘All your appetites? Or just for food?’
She surged to her feet and I got a control-shredding view of the way her dress clung to every mouth-watering curve. Curves I wanted to plunder in every decadent way available.
‘This meeting was clearly a waste of time.’
I dragged my gaze to her stunning face. ‘I disagree. I’d say we’ve both learned a few things about each other.’
Her chin lifted. ‘Like what?’
‘Like the fact that this insane chemistry between us isn’t going away. The fact that I want to pin you up against the nearest wall and taste every delicious inch of you, starting with your pussy, which I’m willing to bet is wet right now. If you stop bristling long enough to take a breath, you’ll admit you want that too.’
The charged step she took towards my chair granted me an even better view of her spectacular legs. And the hard bullets of her nipples outlined clearly against her dress.
Fuck.
My breath knotted in my lungs as she bent forward, placed her hand on my chest and brought her lips to my ear. ‘Here’s the thing, darling. You’re right. I won’t deny that something about you makes my pussy ache. Something about you makes me want to rip your clothes off and ride you until one of us stops breathing. But tell me, Damian, why would I lower myself into fucking an asshole who will only turn around and stab me in the back again come morning?’
It was a testament of my shoddy state of mind that she was halfway out of the restaurant before her words registered.
But not even the cold drench of those words could put out the flames in my groin as I staggered to my feet and went after her.
Neve had a few things to answer.
Right before I fucked us both into next week.
Neve
I’d barely kicked off my shoes and tossed my clutch onto the sofa before he knocked. Hard and insistent.
Just like last time, I didn’t bother checking the peephole before I opened the door. ‘This feels like déjà vu. Of the unpleasant kind.’
His shrug was easy. Self-assured and sexy as hell. ‘Last time I invited you to tell me to leave. This time I’m not going until we clear up a few things.’
‘This isn’t your hotel. I can have Security up here in minutes.’
‘But you won’t. I’m not a physical threat to you and we both know it.’
I hated how he could read me. How he could tunnel past all the bullshit to the heart of my unwelcome needs. Like right now. He was looking at me as if he knew not only the anger in my heart but how much I was still turned on from our little exchange downstairs. He wasn’t exactly smirking about it but the knowledge was a solid, writhing thing between us.
‘What do you want, Damian?’ I snapped, hanging on tight to the door handle despite the frantic need to seize my chance, throw it wide open, let him in. Let him inside me.
‘First of all, you forgot this.’ He held up his hand to show my credit card tucked between his fingers.
Dammit. So much for my smooth exit. Frowning, I took it, tossed it onto a nearby table and reached for the in-room phone. ‘I didn’t sign for dinner. I should—’
‘I took care of it. If that offends your sensibilities, you can pick up next time.’
‘There won’t be a next time.’
‘Again, I disagree.’ A whisper of a smile teased his lips as he propped a shoulder against the door frame. But his hazel gaze maintained that single-minded ferocity that punched fresh heat into my belly. I struggled not to fidget as his gaze rushed over my body. ‘I didn’t get the chance to say before, that dress looks incredible on you.’
The cocktail dress I chose to wear tonight was my favourite. The black off-the-shoulder number made of soft merino wool clung to my curves and ended a few inches above my knee. Wearing it added a boost of confidence and made me feel sexy in a way I’d needed.
‘Invite me in, Neve. The quicker you do, the sooner we can be done.’
His tone didn’t suggest he wanted to be done. Far from it.
Here was my opportunity to unleash everything I’d bottled up inside thus far. But the burning between my thighs mocked me with something else. I ignored it and stepped back.
Damian entered another hotel suite of mine, this time with his demons very much under control. They weren’t gone, far from it. I’d caught a glimpse of them as he’d talked about his cousin. Gideon. The reason for the darkness that lurked in his eyes. But he had a tighter leash on them.
Or he was focused on other things. Like...me.
The thought made my insides clench in a way that both shamed and excited me.
I preceded him into the living room, cleared my throat and turned to find him shrugging out of his jacket.
‘What are you doing?’ I detested the hint of a shriek in my voice.
‘Getting comfortable,’ he responded, draping his jacket over a chair before he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled back his sleeves. Damian in full relaxation mode was doing unspeakably erotic things to my sex. ‘I have an inkling this will take a while.’
A little stupefied, I stared as his brawny forearms were slowly exposed, my panties growing damper with every passing second.
When he was done, his eyes slowly lifted to mine and held tight. Damn the man. He knew what he was doing.
Just as he’d done when he’d used sex to addle my brain two years ago, just before he’d turned around and chopped me off at the knees.
Two could play at that game.
I reached up and freed my hair from its loose knot and spiked my fingers through it.
His gaze dropped to my breasts and his Adam’s apple bobbed before he refocused on my face. ‘Neve—’
With a jerk, I stepped away from him and from temptation, denying every lustful urge that rammed at me, and headed for the bar.
‘I’m getting myself a drink. Want one, Mr Mortimer?’ I threw over my shoulder.
He shook his head. ‘No. I don’t want a drink.’
‘Then what do you want?’
‘For starters, I really want you to cut the Mr Mortimer shit,’ he said.
Memories of groaning his given name as he rammed his cock deep inside me, of screaming it as the best orgasm I’d ever had rippled through me, charged through my brain. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it was part of the reason I was reticent about calling him by his first name.
I surfaced from that lustful reverie to find his gaze drifting to my legs.
‘For starters? Sounds like you have