The Dare Collection: August 2018. Avril Tremayne
“Shall we move on?” she blurted.
I ate the grin threatening, welcoming the chance to cool my raging libido. “By all means.”
We retraced our steps to the foyer and headed downstairs to the basement.
A flick of a switch illuminated the corners of the impressive movie theater, equipped with everything a movie buff needed, including luxury loungers and an extensive 1950s-style snack and drinks bar at the far side of the room. I checked out the bar, the small pantry and the bathroom before motioning for her to enter.
She made a beeline for the front row and the object lying out in the open.
The bright pink object was the same as the one I saw upstairs, but this vibrator clearly stood out against the black sheepskin throw discarded on the middle seat facing the giant screen.
My breath locked in my lungs as an image of her spread out on the lounger with her favorite gadget between her legs sideswiped me. Before I could recover from it, another image punched through. This time I was the one positioned between her legs, seeing to her pleasure as whatever chick flick she preferred played in the background.
Only she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a single thing on the screen. Hell, no.
She would be half out of her mind, grabbing my hair and arching her back as she begged me to please, please, please get her off.
My pulse kicked into uncomfortable levels as I watched her grip close over the sex toy.
“Can I make a suggestion?” My tongue felt as thick as the hard-on pressing against my fly.
Her fingers clenched around the pink object. “No.”
I adjusted myself before moving toward her. “If you’re that embarrassed by having anyone see your naughty toys, maybe don’t leave them lying around?”
“A gentleman wouldn’t mention this,” she snapped.
“And a lady wouldn’t have crawled onto the table on my plane, teased me with her body and stroked my cock without at least buying me a drink first, but here we are.”
“I didn’t stroke you...it,” she replied hotly. “I just...” Her blush deepened.
I laughed, enjoying her discomfort a little too much. Not so much as the memory of her hands on me because it triggered a craving for more of the same.
“Lily, I don’t really care what toys you play with so there’s no need to feel bad about it. I am curious about what else you have stashed around the place, though. Personally, I like cold beers in coolers handy around my place but I guess with you it’s sex toys? Is it super-efficiency or do you just get crazy impatient when the mood grabs you?”
Sharp, irritated green eyes aimed lasers at me. “I’m going to bed, Mr. Steele. Please take that as a sign that I won’t be answering your inappropriate questions.” She shot for the door, moving quicker than I anticipated.
I intercepted her before she reached the foyer. “I haven’t checked upstairs yet.”
“Then I suggest you get on with it.” She headed for the stairs.
“Stop.” There was more grit in my tone, more pressure in my grip.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m Maggie, Mr. Steele,” she bit out.
My thumb slid over her skin before I could stop myself. “I would never mistake you for Maggie. You’re in a class of your own, sweetheart. And call me Caleb.” The gruffness in my voice was a direct testament to what touching her was doing to me.
It had some effect on her, too, if her parted lips and the small gust of breath that escaped was evidence enough. I was completely stumped by the effect of that tiny sound on my dick.
The undercurrents that had swirled around us since we first set eyes on each other strengthened by the minute.
Shit, I needed to cool off before I did something crazy, like drag her close and taste her sinful mouth properly.
“Let’s get this over with. Same rule applies: you stay behind me.”
After confirming everything was good, I grabbed the bags from the car, fighting the temptation to pour myself a drink. Much as I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping under a strange roof, I couldn’t compound my rest with alcohol. The nightmares always found a way to filter through anyway.
Teeth clenched, I headed back upstairs.
Maybe choosing the bedroom next to Lily’s wasn’t the brightest idea. Most nights the nightmares only triggered cold sweats. But there were times when that last image of my mother ripped...sounds from me.
I eyed Lily’s door. She’d shut it firmly in my face after a curt good-night.
A tight smile tugged at my mouth. She wouldn’t appreciate being called a spitfire but that was exactly what she was. Despite the dark clothes and alabaster skin, she blazed red-hot underneath, a fuse ready to explode.
My grip tightened on the doorknob. Was she using her little pink toy right now to take the edge off her irritation with me? To bring much-needed relief from the shadows lurking in the dark?
Fuck, I was in danger of dying from blue balls if I didn’t get myself under control.
Caleb
IT WAS BARELY daylight when the ashen image of my mother’s lifeless face jerked me from sleep to the pinging of the alarm. I ignored my racing heart as I sprinted for the door and yanked it open, relieved that it wasn’t the continual blare announcing a possible intruder. Until I remembered that I was dealing with a tech-savvy stalker.
Downstairs, I took a moment to listen. Only the muted chorus of birdsong broke the silence.
Followed a second later by the faint splash of water. The gun I grabbed from the nightstand before leaving my room bumped against my thigh as I moved toward the open living room door and stepped through it.
Thirty feet away from the back patio, the pristine lawn gave way to stone tiles and a larger-than-average pool.
And right there, swimming without a care in the world, was Lily.
Irritation and disbelief drove me past the large ivy-twined oak pergola with the center fire pit and the loungers that stood to one side of the swimming pool.
My gaze was fixed on the figure weaving through the water, completely oblivious to my presence.
I watched her swim one lap. Then another. I breathed in and out. Slow, deep to get myself under control.
No joy.
“Lily.” My voice pulsed with the quiet fury running through my veins.
She didn’t stop. Her strokes were flawless and efficient, her strong kicks propelling her swiftly away from me toward the far end of the pool. I trailed after her, watched her execute a neat underwater flip, turn and launch herself into another lap. The move was smooth enough for me to see the wireless swimming earbuds plugged into her ears. My pissed-off barometer ticked up another notch.
I tugged my T-shirt over my head and stepped out of my sweatpants before diving into the pool. Two hard kicks later, she was in front of me. Alarm flared in her eyes as my hands closed on her arms. She fought back, clawing and thrashing the water before she realized who she was fighting.
In that time an unhealthy number of what-if scenarios whizzed through my head, darkening my already foul mood.
“Are you out of your mind?” I made no effort to keep my temper from showing.
She sluiced water out of her eyes with one hand and attempted to push me away with the other. The hell I was budging. “Can you not yell at me, please?”
“I