The Dare Collection June 2019. Rachael Stewart
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fly. Instead I caressed the silk for a moment, and brought it to my nose.
Her heady scent filled my nostrils and I groaned. I was compounding my problem, but between the lingering taste on my tongue, the scent of her perfume and the smell of her pussy, I had a sneaking suspicion it was physically impossible to be any more turned on than I was right now.
Hell, I didn’t know whether to be pissed off or turned on by the stunt she’d pulled. Or kick my own arse for leaving her slick and wet pussy without more of a fight.
I chose the pissed route because the alternative was admitting I was seriously addicted to the insane chemistry binding us.
It was that uncontrollable reaction that had compelled me to hunt her down in her hotel room in Boston. That same visceral, unstoppable need that had bypassed all my rigid safeguards and propelled me to the woman with sparkling blue eyes that radiated determination and intelligence, and a mouth designed to bring a man to his knees.
Over the years, my contribution to the elevation of The Mortimer Group from certain bankruptcy to staggering prosperity had garnered the right accolades. With that had come attention of the female kind.
Work hard.
Party harder.
For years, I’d seen absolutely nothing wrong in revelling in that ethos. There was nothing more blissfully satisfying than losing oneself between the thighs of a willing woman after scoring a mega successful deal, especially if it involved besting an opponent.
With Gideon by my side, the ride had been doubly gratifying.
Until Penny and her lies and treachery had ruined it all.
I crushed the scrap of lace and silk a second before my balled fist shot out. I reined it in a scant inch before it connected with the glass. Breathed in. Out. Pressed my knuckles against the cool glass and attempted to rein myself in.
Anguish knotted in my chest.
Regardless of the aftermath, I was still at fault for heeding Penny’s call in the first place. Misguided or not, I’d dropped my guard and trusted the words of a pathological, conscienceless liar. More than that, I’d forgotten the single most important lesson I’d learned since I was old enough to reason for myself.
Everyone has an agenda.
And nine times out of ten, it was a self-serving one. My own parents were a prime example. They’d stuck around long enough to do their duty by the family name. Then they’d walked away without a backward glance, their children someone else’s burden.
Resentment tapped from a different vein threatened to rise but my issue with Hugh and Margaret Mortimer, the people I had the dubious privilege of calling my parents, would stay in the background of my mind, where it belonged.
After all, they’d put me completely out of theirs for most of my life.
Gideon, however...
That wound was aggravating. But more than that, now I finally knew the truth, it was a problem I could put behind me.
So I could move on?
To what?
The irony wasn’t lost on me that while I was spouting off about establishing a baseline trust to Neve I had none left in my personal reserves. And surprisingly, I’d adapted to living without it.
Business-wise I kept my promises. Perhaps I shouldn’t fight this need to overcome her resistance. Perhaps Neve having her own agenda was the reminder I needed to keep her at arm’s length?
I grimaced at the fierce denial that tunnelled through me.
This had gone beyond business.
I wanted her. Badly. Enough to attempt to breach that wall she’d built around herself despite knowing she was right in her accusation about my actions two years ago.
I hadn’t held back my verdict to Cahill because I’d believed she wasn’t ready. I stood by that belief.
And hell, the morning after the night in her bed, I’d been in no mood to prolong any association with Malcolm Cahill beyond the necessary. I’d woken up burning in the reality that there’d be no definitive resolution to the hours Penny had stolen from me by drugging me that night. That there would always be a hole in my life from her actions.
I slammed my closed fist against the glass. Neve’s scent invaded my senses again. And just like that I was hard as fuck again.
Forehead propped against the cool glass, I brought the fragile scrap to my nose and inhaled long and deep. The inevitable accepted, I tugged my zip down and freed my engorged cock. Tension and anticipation ramped through me as I wrapped Neve’s panties around my cock and began to stroke myself.
The hard piston-fast tugs were nowhere near as glorious as I knew her tight, wet pussy would’ve been. My dick didn’t care. Within seconds my balls drew up tight and urgent. A thick curse ripped from my throat, my vision blanked and hot spurts spilled onto my lace-covered hand.
When I caught my breath, I staggered a few steps and dropped onto the sofa and accepted my reality. Neve Nolan was a fever in my blood. One I was certain wouldn’t easily be dispersed.
Acceptance brought a little questionable relief.
And two dozen churning questions.
How did I break down Neve’s walls? Why the hell did I want to when my own were built on questionable foundations?
And beyond that, could I go ahead without coming clean about my past?
But fuck...how the hell did you tell the woman you were insanely attracted to that all signs pointed to the fact that three years ago you’d been roofied and ended up in bed with your cousin’s fiancée?
A chill burrowed deep into my bones, tightening every muscle in my body in anger and frustrated bitterness.
There was no way to relate that story without inducing disgust and mistrust. Hell, I was shocked and disgusted at myself for falling for the trap of going for a drink with Penny in the first place.
As for trust, how could I begin to trust anyone when I didn’t even trust myself?
The answer was shockingly clear.
I couldn’t.
I was better off heeding my instinct to keep things strictly business.
Damian
INSTINCT.
That bloody useless and fickle thing changed its mind the moment I stepped off the helicopter early afternoon the next day, and saw Neve waiting on the edge of the helipad.
Last night, her cocktail dress might have looked spectacular, but the jade-green sundress gracing her body today was equally breathtaking.
The halterneck number displayed her flawless, lightly tanned shoulders and arms, and curved over her neat waist and hips to end a couple of inches above the knee, leaving her endless legs bare and immediately triggering images of them wrapped around my waist.
My situation wasn’t helped by the fact that I’d spent yet another restless night fighting the temptation to return to her hotel and talk her into finishing what she’d started.
I approached, my resistance crumbled to dust as the churned air from the rotor blades whipped Neve’s dark blonde hair across her face. She lifted a hand to slide strands off her cheek. A small gesture but my seriously sex-deprived state meant the motion of watching her tuck her long hair behind her ear was hell on my groin. Or perhaps it was that bold confidence in her eyes that threatened to undo me.
Undeniably, something about a strong, confident