The Dare Collection: June 2018. Lauren Hawkeye

and every time she’d shifted in her seat and he’d caught a glimpse of another sliver of skin, he’d had to dig his short nails into the leather of the arm rests to stop himself from peeling her out of the dress that had become an implement of torture.

      Lucas, already endowed with that effortless French charm, looked at Essie as if he possessed X-ray vision and could clearly see the delights the dress barely concealed. Well, fuck that. For as long as it took to extinguish this all-consuming need—one surely brought on by something in the English water—Ash would be the only one sampling anything Essie had to offer.

      While he’d tied himself in knots, fucking around with trust and rules and control, the answer had been staring him in the face all this time. He was never more composed than when in the bedroom. She’d said she could separate sex from their professional relationship. Time to test the theory. A win-win situation.

      Ash placed his hand in the small of her back, wincing when she turned a sharp glance his way, presumably with the shock. He didn’t need to explain his actions—he was done fighting this forest fire of need—and she’d suggested he take the driving seat. Time to buckle up, Ms Newbold.

      ‘Lucas, this is Essie Newbold, my manager. I’ve told her all about La Voute, so thanks for the tour.’ Now he wished he’d simply brought her to the club anonymously, because all he wanted to do was get her away from Lucas and onto the packed dance floor so he could legitimately put his hands on her some more and draw her close enough to feel those nipples.

      Lucas laughed, took Essie’s hand and pressed it to his lips.

       Smooth bastard.

      He held out his arm and directed them to the bar. ‘The best way to enjoy La Voute is to experience it.’

      The barman had clearly been pre-warned, because, on seeing the boss, he brought over a tray of luminous shots that glowed in the neon lighting as if radioactive.

      ‘The house speciality. Enjoy.’ Lucas handed one to Essie and, without taking his eyes from her, swallowed the second. ‘I’ve reserved you a VIP booth upstairs.’ Lucas replaced his empty shot glass on the tray and nodded to the barman. ‘Make yourselves at home, drink whatever you want and, if you have any questions, you know where to find me.’ He shook Ash’s hand, which rolled into a fist when he turned to Essie and kissed both of her cheeks.

      Ash forced a smile, a move that almost cracked his jaw, the tension in his facial muscles was so pronounced. He downed the shot and jerked his chin at the barman to indicate another round, getting himself back under control. He never succumbed to such puerile emotions as jealousy. What was she doing to him? Perhaps the extreme self-denial had infected his common sense.

      ‘This is fantastic.’ Essie’s eyes sparkled as she bobbed in time to the music. She’d stood on tiptoes to yell in his ear but she hadn’t touched him.

      Ash nodded, his eyes dancing over the unselfconscious sway of her body to the beat.

      ‘You asked Josh to create a house cocktail. I liked that. What else do you want to do to The Yard?’

      Her wary eyes warmed at his simple compliment. ‘I love that graffiti art over there.’ She pointed to a wall of exposed brick decorated with vibrant tagging. ‘We could do that in the basement, get an artist in. Use neon paint so it glows in the UV light.’

      He nodded and bent closer, although he’d heard her just fine. His own lips were only millimetres from her ear so her delectable scent curled around him like an aphrodisiac cloud.

      ‘He’s right.’ He flicked his head in the direction Lucas had disappeared. ‘Clubs like this have the X-factor. We should immerse ourselves, while we’re here.’ He handed her the second shot and tossed back his own with a grin of challenge. ‘Let’s dance.’

      She eyed him while she slowly pressed the rim of the shot glass to her plump bottom lip, holding it suspended there for what seemed like an age, taking his stare captive. At the last second, the tip of her pink tongue poked out and dipped into the blue opaque drink. And then she tossed it, slammed the glass bottom up on the bar and turned for the dance floor with a sassy sway of her hips.

      He groaned, adding seriously fucking sexy to her growing list of attributes. Ash followed, walking with his hard-on torture. He took Essie’s elbow to keep them together as they weaved through the crowds. The crush of bodies moving under the strobe lights hemmed them in on all sides, forcing them to dance in the bubble of close personal space that suited his intentions just fine.

      Essie’s eyes widened as he palmed her hips and tugged her close. So he’d made an abrupt about-face? Better to switch tactics and settle than go into negotiations with a weak case. And it seemed this captivating woman weakened his body, his mind and his resolve.

      He kept his hands and his stare on her, sliding his grip from her swaying hips to her slim waist as they moved in unison to the thumping beat. Her hands reached for his forearms, fingertips just shy of gripping. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back and lost herself to the music, as completely and perfectly as she lost herself to her pleasure.

      His hands snaked to the small of her back and he hauled her tight up against him, the small gasp she made and the excitement in the eyes she snapped open spurring him on. His erection pressed into her soft belly. She knew the effect she had on him, one he hadn’t been able to conceal since day one.

      She gripped his shoulders, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she swayed against him, all sensual movements and lust-drunk eyes. They danced for half a track, heated stares locked, bodies bumping and hands lingering like the most exquisite form of tactile torture.

      Fuck this. Fuck the club. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he’d need another cold shower. And he was done with pale imitation. He held the real thing here in his arms. If she’d been a property acquisition, he’d have already closed the deal.

      Ash bent close, his lips caressing her delicate ear. The cascade of fine tremors down her neck slammed steel through his spine. But before he could utter one word of his argument, she turned her head so her lips grazed his.

      Her stare lifted to his and then dipped back to his mouth.

      His fingertips pressed into her waist. ‘You suggested we work this out. We’ll do it in my bed.’

      She leaned back, eyebrows lifted.

      ‘We will?’

      He shrugged. ‘Or yours, or the couch or wherever. As long as it involves me inside you.’ He lifted a tendril of hair from her neck and wrapped it around his index finger.

      ‘I thought you only did one night?’

      He could no more explain his about-turn than he could walk away. It was an astounding turn of events for a man used to making verbal arguments and teasing out favourable deals for a living.

      He gripped her bare shoulder, his fingers gliding over her shoulder blade.

      ‘I’m making an exception. And there’s something of an experience gap to rectify, so I’m told.’ His thumb caressed the dip above her collarbone, setting off more tiny shivers.

      She pursed her lips, as if giving the matter some serious thought. Fuck, if he’d had any issue with his ego he’d be snivelling at her pretty feet by now. But he hadn’t become one of New York’s top attorneys by misjudging the opposition’s intentions. She wanted this as badly as he did. He hadn’t changed his stance on relationships, but they could still have a good time.

      ‘Tell me what I need to hear,’ he whispered.

      ‘Just sex.’ She wavered, her lip trapped under her teeth for a moment.

      He nodded, her confirmation music to his ears. ‘I agree.’ He pressed his thumb to her bottom lip, tugging it free from her bite. The only thought in his mind—how quickly he could replace her teeth with his—drowned out all else.

      Essie stepped closer until the length of her body pressed to his, her nipples grazing his chest, the heat between