The Dare Collection August 2019. Christy McKellen

mistakes my silence for apathy.

      ‘But perhaps the sex was a mistake. Perhaps it’s time to call this a day. We had a good time...’ She swings her bag up onto her shoulder and crosses her arms over her chest.

      The urge to hold her, to feel her body against mine, grows to impossible levels. I know how good it will feel. I know that nothing else will matter while she’s there and all my worries will lessen. I know I’d do anything right now to ensure it happens.

      ‘And if I don’t want to call it quits,’ I say, stepping a fraction closer, although not as close as I’d like, which is naked and inside her, making her eyes soften with pleasure.

      That seems to startle her. The pulse in her neck flutters and the answering thud of my heart batters my ribs. ‘Look,’ I say, my voice strangled, ‘you’ve been honest, so allow me to return the favour. I was thrown by your appointment to renovate the Faulkner, which Graham arranged without my knowledge. I run a tight ship, I always have, but now, with things...unravelling, with my always capable, energetic father behaving so erratically...you can understand how concerning—’

      ‘Of course I can—’

      I plough on. ‘And despite all of that going on, I was blindsided by seeing you again. You’ve changed, or I’ve opened my eyes. I was reeling from my attraction to you and you were so capable, so vehement about your contract, so...driven and in control, and while I admire that trait in business—’ I swallow, emotion thick in my throat ‘—if I’m brutally honest, I’m a little distracted by Graham’s diagnosis. Bottom line, I was underprepared for you.’ I wave my hand in her direction, encompassing the entire, spectacular Blair package. ‘All of you.’

      My words settle between us, charging the warm summer air with kinetic energy, until I’m certain something will need to break to snap the tension. But I’ve never waited for something to come to me in my entire life, always making things happen, striving until I have what I want. I’m not about to start now when what I want is as tempting as her. I reach for her hand and she doesn’t pull away, her fingers flexing against mine a soothing balm in more ways than one. But it’s not enough. I want more of Blair Cameron for my own selfish reasons, reasons I refuse to examine too closely. Fuck, I hope she still wants me for hers.

      Taking a leap, I tug her to my chest, wrapping my arms around her slim shoulders, dwarfing her physically even as she seems to envelop me—the scent of her hair carried in the hazy air, the crush of her soft breasts against my hard chest, her small hands on my waist holding me together where the shudders of something that feels suspiciously like fear seep from my every pore. I hold her until my own heart rate slows, not giving a fuck that she can probably feel it beating against hers, that she’ll know how much I care, how sorry I am and how exposed it makes me. The feeling is so rusty, I can’t name it, or choose not to.

      I kiss the top of her head, and pull back a fraction so she can see the sincerity in my expression.

      ‘I don’t doubt you professionally and neither do Kit and Drake. They loved your plans for the renovations. Brothers just like to talk shit to wind each other up—it’s a trait we’ve carried from childhood, I’m afraid.’

      She nods, but her eyes are still haunted, her voice when she speaks flatter than I’ve ever heard it. ‘They don’t approve of us fooling around.’

      I wince. I’d seen the way Kit reacted to my obvious closeness to Blair, but then, like now, I considered it irrelevant. ‘I don’t give a fuck. Do you?’ The ugly swirls of fear return, my stomach twisting. If she says yes, that no-strings sex was fun, but family judgement is a distraction she doesn’t need, that I’m too old for her after all, that we don’t have enough in common or that’s it’s just not worth it... I grip her tighter. The reaction makes no sense—she’s right, all we’ve shared is a handful of orgasms, but already this feels like more, feels as if we’re heading into dangerous territory. Trouble is, I don’t want to retreat. I’m selfish. I want her for as long as it lasts.

      When she shakes her head, her chin lifted in defiance, I practically growl and press my mouth hard to hers as euphoria pumps around my body. Without interference or my own stupidity, our connection is simple—A plus B equals... What? A good time? If I’m honest, we’ve already surpassed simple physical gratification. She makes me feel invincible, makes me feel the optimism I associate with the man I was in my early twenties.

      ‘Good. Come home with me.’ I clutch her closer.

      She laughs, a delightful sound that restores my equilibrium more than her words of reassurance or the lust simmering in her eyes.

      ‘Just because I accept your apology doesn’t mean I’m ready to forgive all your transgressions.’ She tilts her pelvis and crushes my dick with her soft belly, bringing me back to life.

      I grin; press a kiss to her irresistible mouth. ‘I’m happy to pay for my crimes—there must be something you want in recompense.’ I slide my hands over her hips and cup her arse, pressing her forward to increase the friction.

      ‘Hmm...’ She pretends to think, her eyes dancing. ‘There might be one thing... But I’m not sure you’re up to the job, being so old and set in your ways.’

      My laughter blasts from me, draining any residual doubt. She’s incredible—generous and caring and fearless. ‘Well, if anyone can keep me on my toes, it’s you. Why don’t you give me a shot? There are worse ways to die than from pleasure.’

      Malicious delight fills her expression. ‘Who said anything about pleasure, especially yours?’ Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she grinds against my now hard cock, her actions contradicting her threats. ‘I think your transgressions require a forfeit.’

      Excitement pumps my blood harder, so I’m ready to give her anything. I was the minute she left the hotel without looking back. ‘What’s the forfeit?’ I’m not used to handing over control and I’m sure I won’t like it. But my blood pounds in case I fucking love it.

      ‘The driver’s seat.’ She gives me no time to absorb her words before she spins, tugging me behind her towards my house. I sling my arm around her shoulder, caging her to my side while my mind sifts through her possible meanings. Does she want to tie me up? Blindfold me? Do I care? Any fantasy of hers is okay by me, because she’s honest about what she wants.

      But before I get carried away, I have more I want to say.

      ‘Thank you.’ I squeeze her closer, hoping she reads my heartfelt gratitude. ‘For the chess. For playing along again. I’m sure it’s upsetting that Graham seems to have forgotten how he knows you.’ At her small shrug, I drag us to another standstill and kiss her again, trying to banish the slightly lost expression from her eyes. I linger over kiss after kiss until the atmosphere lifts, in no hurry to get home. She’ll have to have her wicked way with me in the road. But all too soon we resume our walk.

      ‘How did you know he played?’ My father taught all three of us to play, stating it fostered healthy competition without risk of coming to blows, although we Faulkner brothers managed to throw a few of those back when we settled things with our fists.

      ‘We played at a Hoteliers Association conference I attended with my dad back in the days he thought I’d simply join the family business instead of pursuing my own dreams—not that there’s anything wrong with family businesses, of course. Graham was there too. One day, he spied me sulking in a corner somewhere, challenged me to a game and then happily thrashed me. I always respected him more for not letting me win, and of course for taking the time to coax a moody teenager out of herself.’

      Her tale is bittersweet, reminding me of the powerhouse Graham has always been, and how much I’ve relied on his always being so. ‘He always wanted a daughter, I think.’

      Blair’s arm tightens around my waist. ‘You’re really concerned about him, aren’t you? Are things worse than you’ve let on?’

      ‘The honest answer is I just don’t know, but we’re all concerned. He has an appointment