The Dare Collection June 2019. Rachael Stewart
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She shrugged, the action highlighting the smooth curve of her shoulder. Sunlight glinted off her creamy skin, wetting my mouth with the need to trail my tongue over it.
‘I’d like to know if you inherited your rude and abrasive characteristics from them.’
The pulse beating at her throat made me harder. I itched to stroke it. Stroke her all over, right before I devoured her. I wanted to feast on her in so many ways I doubted we’d make it out alive by the time I was done. She caught the direction of my thoughts. Her colour heightened and she pressed her lips together in that way I was beginning to realise signalled, and attempted to deny, her arousal.
‘You think you can handle me, Neve?’
‘I’ve proved I can handle you,’ she fired back. ‘But of course, if you’re scared of a little...revelation, you can go right back to brooding like some wannabe rock star.’
I laughed. The sound startled me, emerging from a place I thought was locked and weighted down with concrete. With a start I realised it’d been a while...hell, a long while since I’d laughed so heartily.
And I was laughing because of Neve.
The sound slowly died as I watched her expression alter.
Soften.
That heavy stone I’d carried for longer than I could remember, the one that didn’t permit me to give any quarter when it came to useless emotion...shifted. Attempted to crack open. I tightened my gut against the sensation, whipping up anger that felt a little out of place.
Foolish and overdramatic.
Bloody hell, what was going on with me? This was about sex. Ultimately. So why did it feel even more precarious to know I wasn’t the only one caught in this damn vortex of risky emotion and perpetual horniness?
One beautifully sculpted eyebrow rose, silently prompting an answer.
Right.
My parents.
Predictably, thoughts of them dampened my arousal, diluted the thick shroud of desire whipping around us.
‘I meant exactly what I said. They didn’t emigrate to Greece to be surrounded by its warm and fuzzy locals. They decided they’d had enough of their own family and wanted to live in seclusion, so they bought an island and did exactly that.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You grew up on a Greek island?’
I shook my head, staring at her mouth in the hopes of allaying the deep, bruising ache that went hand in hand with this subject. But while thoughts of biting and licking that plump lower lip helped, they weren’t enough. Nothing was ever enough. ‘They mean my mother and father. Alone. Exclusively. They bought their island and rarely step foot off it.’
She inhaled sharply. ‘They went without you?’
I stared harder at her mouth, unwilling to confirm whether the sympathy in her voice was reflected in her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘How old were you?’
‘I was nine.’
Her fingers toyed with her wine glass. I wished I had something stronger than mineral water. But my paranoia about drinking in public wasn’t easy to dismiss.
Not after Penny.
Not when a six-hour black hole yawed in my memory. Fucking hell. Another subject I didn’t want to dwell on for even a second—
‘But...why...?’ Neve asked.
For a blind moment I thought I’d spilled my darkest secret. But no. We were talking about my parents.
I exhaled sharply. ‘They were satisfied they’d done their duty, I expect. Made their contribution to the great Mortimer gene pool. They left and never looked back.’
More questions flared in her eyes. I raised my hand before she could voice them.
‘What’s your agenda here, Neve?’ I asked with a grating laugh. ‘If I learned anything from my...unique childhood growing up in the Mortimer clan, it’s that everyone has one.’ My parents had proved that conclusively. Penny had proved that when she’d sidled up to me under the pretext of needing help and shattered the one relationship that meant a damn. ‘So what’s yours?’
Neve’s eyes widened into pools of affront. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I get the business angle. You feel you were wronged and are out to right it...somehow. But this sudden interest in me? What’s that all about? You want more ammunition for your little arsenal?’
A dart of hurt dimmed her eyes before the blue depths flashed with anger. ‘Don’t judge me by your standards.’
The laughter that rumbled from me felt less pleasant this time. ‘No. You play dirtier. Remind me again who left whom high and dry last night?’
She flushed and damn if I didn’t want to trace that sweet rush of heat with my tongue. ‘You know what to do if this gets too much for you.’
I smiled. ‘You won’t run me off that easily, darling.’
‘We’ll see about that. And while we’re at it, know that I won’t be letting you steal any more of my panties.’
‘Because you don’t plan to take them off at all the next time I fuck you or because you won’t be wearing any in the first place?’
Outrage rose swift and hot but died just as rapidly in her eyes, leaving the expression I craved. Unabashed desire. She tried to hide it by making a production of pushing back her chair and standing but her agitated breathing and the hard nubs of her nipples poking against her summer dress gave her away.
‘I have work to do. You’re in Suite 611. Your activation key has been sent to your phone. If you need directions or anything else be sure to let the concierge know.’ She paused with her hand gripping the back of her chair, exuding a haughtiness that made every cell in my body burn. ‘I trust you can amuse yourself until Sam and Tyler are ready for us to view the room?’
‘Of course.’
‘Great,’ she said briskly. With a sexy twirl, she walked away without a backward glance. I watched her until she disappeared from view, still puzzled as to why she hit all my spots with such ferocity. Why she got under my skin when no other had been able to penetrate the shell I’d been forced to construct to withstand unrelenting barbs from a family such as mine.
The churning in my gut intensified as I admitted that it had nothing to do with Neve playing hard to get. Although, for the first time in my life, I found that too a huge turn-on. Hell, everything was a bloody turn-on with her.
With an irritated snort, I stood and left the table, ignoring the tumultuous emotions dogging my steps.
My suite was impressive. Understated luxury coupled with elegant comfort was the running theme of Nevirna. The bed and lounges were sumptuous, the suite and adjoining balcony like each one I’d seen on our tour, facing a serene lake with honest-to-goodness swans gliding across its glass-smooth surface. At this time of year, with the promise of summer on the horizon, the air was fresh and clean.
Even the most demanding customer would be hard-pressed to find anything lacking in the resort. It was the sort of standard The Mortimer Group hotels strove for.
Somehow, regardless of the setback two years ago, Neve had turned her business around and made a success of it.
Under normal circumstances, she would be a great candidate for an alliance with The Mortimer Group’s boutique hotels. The irony of our real circumstances produced a twisted smile.
For one thing, that curious...itch I’d experienced when she showed me the door last night, and again when she walked away from me in the dining room, was growing irritatingly unbearable.
As if I needed her...somehow.