The Dare Collection August 2019. Christy McKellen

into practice. ‘Tell me what you want this second contract to include.’

      She speaks without pause, telling me she’s played this conversation over in her head prior to this meeting. ‘One,’ she counts on her fingers. ‘No-strings sex. Two—it doesn’t interfere with my work on the Faulkner.’

      My pulse thunders in my head. I shrug, keeping my body relaxed. ‘No feelings, no strings, just sex—easy.’

      But she hasn’t finished.

      ‘Three—we work through my fantasies, but I’m open to any you might have.’

      Fuck me! She could actually bring me to my knees... I arch my brow, fighting hard to maintain a neutral facial expression when all I want to do is sweep the conference table clear and spread her out. ‘Anything else?’

      She shrugs. ‘I think that covers it.’ She sucks in a big breath, trying to conceal the move. Her eyes dart, telling me she hasn’t thought this through that far or she’s hoping I’ll simply take the lead. And I will.

      Oh, we’re going to have some fun.

      ‘Up to the task?’ she asks, eyes heavy with want.

      Hell, yes. Is there a better way to keep a close eye on what Blair Cameron does to my hotel and exploit this unexpectedly fierce chemistry?

      ‘I have no problem with the arrangement as laid out in this verbal contract.’ I sound as if I’m dictating a memo, not discussing how to satisfy Blair Cameron’s fantasies. ‘You tell me about these fantasies and leave the rest to me.’

      Her lips purse as if she’s about to argue, even as her chest flushes with arousal.

      I add another layer of incentive. ‘I promise you’ll benefit.’

      ‘I will?’ she asks, her tongue darting out to moisten her lip.

      I nod, dropping my voice. ‘Expect to come a lot.’ I look up from her mouth to catch the flare of her pupils. ‘Expect my very enthusiastic and frequent attention. Expect to have all your fantasies fulfilled.’

      She smiles as though we’re discussing paint colours or upholstery fabric, not how I’m going to give her so many orgasms she won’t be able to walk on the heels she seems to love.

      ‘Deal.’ She holds out her hand, the fine tremor in her fingers almost invisible. ‘Shall we shake on it?’

      I take her hand and try not to smile when I hear the tiny catch in her throat as our palms connect. Before she can disengage from the most rewarding and electrifying handshake I’ve had in many years, I add another suggestion. I can’t help myself. Blair Cameron is just too much—too tempting, too sexy and too much woman.

      ‘I have a better idea.’ I grip her hand a fraction tighter, allowing my fingertips to dance on her delicate inner wrist, because, now I’ve touched her with something beyond the professional, I want more. I want all of her. ‘Tell me about one of these fantasies.’

      My hard-on tents the front of my trousers underneath the table.

      Her eyes widen as her hand slips from mine, and she sucks in a small, excited gasp that shoots straight to my balls. ‘Now? Here?’ She glances at the closed door, stands and smooths her palms down her thighs as if she’s contemplating fleeing. But not Blair, although she must have guessed I’d be burning with curiosity to hear about these fantasies.

      I nod, slowly, so she gets the message while my mind leafs through all the delicious possibilities. I swivel my chair, keeping my thighs spread so she can see the effect her particular negotiating skills have on me from her standing position. I give her a beat or two to take in the bulge I can’t conceal, then I stand too, moving close so she has to look up if she wants to maintain her bold, almost challenging eye contact.

      I’m close enough to kiss her, but I draw out the anticipation, even though I can’t seem to stop looking at her mouth.

      ‘I’d like to hear them all, but start with the first one you can remember.’ My blood simmers. This verbal foreplay is not something I would usually indulge in at the office, but she’s irresistible. She’s thrown me completely with her bold request, and I’m not one to be outdone.

      Her colour darkens, and I inch closer until her nipples brush my chest as she sucks in another shaky breath.

      I tuck the strand of hair I’ve been longing to touch over her shoulder, loving the shudder that seems to rattle her entire frame as she inhales. ‘Come on, Blair. Let’s hear it.’

      The minute lift of her chin, her go-to move of bravery, heralds her final act of surrender.

      ‘I... I used to touch myself and think about you.’ Her confession is accompanied by a breathy sigh, which takes my body from keen to barely restrained. My fingers twitch to get hold of her sensational body, to touch every inch, taste her all over and hear her moans of pleasure.

      ‘How old were you?’ I’m almost scared to ask.

      She shrugs. ‘Seventeen...eighteen.’

      Fuck. I couldn’t even think of that then, but I can sure as shit do more than think about it today.

      I nod, arch my brow, enjoy the gust of her warm breath on my lips. ‘Show me.’

      Her eyes go wide.

      My pulse pounds through my head, driving me. ‘Go on.’ Excitement crackles between us like static electricity. ‘See what happens.’

      She flushes, her gaze once more drifting to the door. ‘Now? I don’t think I can, not here.’

      Oh, no, this isn’t the woman who’s just negotiated a sexual dalliance between us as successfully as she’s manoeuvred her company into a lucrative deal. This contradictory coyness won’t do in light of what she’s just told me. I want everything. Now.

      I lean close, dip my head so my breath snakes over her exposed earlobe and her shudder wafts the scent of her hair over me.

      ‘Liar,’ I whisper, fighting the need to taste the skin of her neck.

      She sways closer and I ease back, a tease, keeping my distance, torturing us both. For now. But the struggle is real, the deep and relentless need catching me off guard.

      I continue in the same husky voice, ‘It’s your call, of course.’

      She’s panting now, her breath brushing my lips, and it takes every scrap of control I possess not to kiss her. But not yet. She’s set a challenge, one my libido is raring to meet.

      And I want to hear every detail of these fantasies. I want to know how her inventive and open mind works, especially the part that not only conjured up fantasies about me, but also had the mettle to proposition me in the Faulkner boardroom.

      ‘Tell me.’ I allow my hushed words to bathe the space between our mouths. ‘Would you be in the bath or in your bed? Would I walk in and catch you with your hand down the front of your underwear? Would you stop touching yourself, or continue knowing I couldn’t look away?’

      Excitement sparks in her eyes. The space between her body and mine floods with pheromones, the air temperature rising and generating enough electrical activity to start a thunderstorm.

      ‘Go on,’ I taunt. ‘Let me watch you now.’

      She reaches for my forearms with both hands, as if she needs me to balance. But the look she raises to mine is pure challenge. She may have hesitated out of a sense of professionalism, but I can tell there’s no way she’ll allow me to wrestle control of her fantasy from her, and I’m happy to concede for the reward of watching this fascinating and beautiful woman claim her pleasure.

      ‘Okay.’ Her voice is husky with need or nerves, but she drops one hand to her side and slips it under the hem of her dress.

      Triumph flares in my chest even as my knees weaken—she’s astounding. Brave and determined and capable of anything.