The Dare Collection: June 2018. Lauren Hawkeye
walk-in closet, still visualising all the ways he’d like to make her come.
‘But, I didn’t break in,’ she called after him. ‘Ben told me where to find your spare key. And I did knock.’
‘Ah, yes. Ben. A bit awkward, isn’t it?’ He selected a black T-shirt and poked his head around the door as he tugged it on, furious that his urge to touch her again was not only still present but seemed to intensify despite the stained dress, reminders of her name-calling and his own rigid rules. Well, if he had to suffer, he wanted answers. ‘Tell me, what is a graduate with a PhD doing working behind a bar?’ She was too smart for this job to be a career move, unless her degree was in hospitality management.
She bristled, her hip jutted to one side in a move that accentuated her curves and the shapely length of her bare legs. Legs he’d like to sink between...face first.
‘I...I’m considering my career options. Ben was left in the lurch, and us working together is a good opportunity to get to know each other better.’
So she had a mission that involved spending time with Ben? Damned inconvenient for him and his raging inner battle, but equally intriguing, forcing her deeper into the crevices of his mind where she’d taken up residence since yesterday. He needed an eviction notice.
Another buzz from her bag. Why didn’t she silence the damn thing?
‘Why don’t you answer that?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s just some...notifications.’ She breathed a long sigh. ‘Look, we’re all grown-ups.’ She looked at him while she twisted a few strands of her hair the way she had yesterday. Perhaps, like him, her head was saying one thing while her body had ideas on a refresher.
But Ash didn’t do regret over relationships any more—been there, done that. Look where he’d ended up after yesterday’s lapse in judgment. And he was damned determined not to give in to the unfathomable desire currently dragging at him. A desire to have a second dip in the water.
‘It was just a one-night thing. As I told you, unlike you, I’m no expert. But isn’t it best to just...move on? Forget it ever happened?’
Was she convincing herself?
And she was right. His head had moved on pretty quickly—he’d trained himself well. But his libido, and his dick in particular, were as keen as mustard. It must be those damn flirty dresses that clung to her gorgeous tits like a second skin. Or her warm cinnamon scent infecting his bedroom. Or that pouty bottom lip her teeth kept tugging on...
‘I’m sure it makes sense to you, too. After all, we have to work together.’
He emerged from the closet tugging up his jeans and buttoning the fly, trapping his still-eager dick behind a row of studs. If only he could trap his erotic musings as easily.
‘Do we? Couldn’t you resign? Tell Ben you’ve changed your mind?’ Yes—remove temptation. She and Ben could get to know each other on their own time. His own sisters drove him crazy sometimes—how much time did they really need to spend together?
There was a small gasp as if he’d suggested abandoning kittens at the roadside. ‘I’m not letting Ben down like that.’
‘Surely he won’t care.’
For a second she paled as if he’d struck a deep, throbbing nerve. ‘Why would you say that? What has Ben said?’
Until today he’d never given much thought to Ben’s news a year or so back that he had a half-sister in London. Their friendship had stretched over the years as careers took hold, their recent contact limited to a snatched beer after work or a trip to the gym. What was the nature of Ben’s relationship with Essie? How close were they and why had she been out of the picture growing up?
One thing was certain: she didn’t know Ben well enough to be confident in his reaction to her quitting. Interesting... He shrugged. ‘I just mean I can replace you within the hour. No disruption to service.’
Fire shone from her stare. ‘Oh, I just bet you could. Well, I’m not disposable and I’m not that easily substituted.’ She stalked nearer, shunting his body temperature dangerously high with her teasing scent—summer, cinnamon and all woman. ‘I’m not an inconvenience to be sidelined, quietly slinking away as if I don’t exist.’
Whoa, where was all that coming from? He had clearly done more than touch a nerve—he’d sawed one in half and poured salt on the cut ends.
Her eyes danced over his crotch and then lifted. ‘Couldn’t you move back to New York?’
Not until the gossip-feeding frenzy had died down and his personal life was no longer entertainment news, but he wasn’t sharing that shit. And why? So that she didn’t have to feel embarrassed about over-sharing with her one-night stand? He parried with a step of his own. ‘But then what would you stare at?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re practically drooling, sweetheart. I know I was a little wiped out last night, so if you want another crack at it...’ He tilted his head towards the massive bed, which dominated the room like an elephant, every muscle tensed in anticipation of finally getting what he craved.
She closed the distance between them, eyes glazed and mouth open as if lust oozed from every pore.
‘I’m perfectly capable of separating a meaningless fuck from the work that needs to be done at the club.’ Her stare lingered on his mouth.
Was she waiting?
For the pithy reply banked up on his tongue, or another taste? His mind fogged as her proximity, her scent, her heat flooded his blood with the testosterone that had dogged him all day, just knowing she worked in the same building. Close enough to hear her throaty chuckle while she spoke to contractors and the soft humming that accompanied her fingers clacking on her keyboard.
‘My club.’ Time to remind Miss Compartmentalised who steered the ship. ‘But are you capable of the work? Ben and I need someone honest, dependable, committed.’ Ash ignored the flare that turned her irises to molten metal. He ignored the urgency of his own needs beating at his body until his muscles screamed with inertia. ‘Tell me, who are you today?’
Her hands fisted on her hips, a move that tightened the fabric across her full breasts outlining her erect nipples...begging for his tongue?
‘What does that mean?’
‘Yesterday a ditsy student tourist, today a competent professional in charge of my club? I don’t take well to being deceived.’ He battled for his legendary control, which he relied on as armour to protect himself. ‘I don’t trust you. So until I know my club is in safe hands, you and I will be working very closely together. Got that?’
Her stare narrowed but her eyes gleamed with something close to the incandescent flare burning through his veins. Perhaps that was the answer: to fuck this inexplicable chemistry out of their systems; to quench the fire. He’d said it wouldn’t happen again, but that was before she’d stormed into his bedroom. Before all her talk about meaningless fucks and moving on. Before she’d drooled over his deliberate nudity and was still mentally stripping him with her hungry, slumberous stare.
Her mouth hung open while said stare burned the flesh from his features. ‘I’d never do anything to damage Ben’s business—you’re just paranoid.’ She dropped her bag and fisted her hands on her hips once more.
He inched closer, chest puffed. ‘You’ve got that right. It works well for me these days.’
Her eyes blazed. ‘I’m here to help my brother open his club. No matter how much you want me gone.’ Her breath hitched. ‘Unless I hear it from Ben that my services are no longer required, I’m staying, so you’d better get used to the idea.’
She jutted her chin forward, bringing her mouth only centimetres from his, her breath fanning his face. She looked halfway to orgasm already—panting,