The Dare Collection: July 2018. Nicola Marsh

plates. Candlelight. The best of intentions.

      And then she walked out of the jungle and the blood rushed out of his head and took up residence in his cock. She wore a skintight beige skirt that his hands were itching to slide over, and her little crop top bustier thing offered her breasts up as if begging for his mouth. The sandals had a little heel on them, which only served to highlight the muscles in her legs and...

      He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “Fuck, Aphrodite.”

      Her sweet smile was reward enough, but he wasn’t going to be the gentleman he’d planned to be originally. Not with her looking at him with those come-fuck-me eyes and strolling right up to slide her arms around his neck. Her smile widened as she pressed her hips against his. “Hey.”

      “Hey.” He cupped her ass with one hand and her hip with the other, dragging his thumb along the exposed few inches of her upper stomach between the skirt and top. “You look amazing.”

      “Thanks.” She looked him over. “You, too.”

      It was too hot for pants, but he’d chosen a pair of khaki shorts and a linen button-down that passed as dressed to the nines for island fashion. “Are you hungry?”

      “Starving.” She hooked her fingers into his belt loops. “But not for food. I’ve been thinking about you since we were on the boat.” She gave a delicate little shiver that had his cock hardening further. “Dinner will hold. I need you now.” Allie had his belt undone in the space of a heartbeat and shoved his pants down his legs.

      Shock stole his reasoning when he recognized the look on her face. “You’re still jealous.”

      “No, I’m not.” She knelt in front of him and wrapped her fingers around his cock. “I was. It wasn’t anything you did, and it wasn’t anything I have a right to feel, but it was there all the same.”

      He laced his fingers through her hair. “You’re entitled to feeling anything you damn well please.”

      “Yes, I’m aware.”

      He watched her lick her lips, his heartbeat kicking up a notch. She was jealous of the woman on the boat. Roman hadn’t bothered to remember her name, but she had been beautiful and confident and someone he might have looked at twice if he wasn’t totally and completely wrapped up in Allie. “Do you really think another woman can compare when you’re in the room?”

      “We were on a boat.” She gave him another stroke but seemed content to talk for the time being.

      “The point stands.”

      Allie pinned him with a look. “I’m not interested in competing with another woman for a single damn thing. Life isn’t a zero-sum game, and too often we’re pitted against each other when it’s not beneficial for anyone but the men around us.” When he just looked at her, she relented. “Fine. I hated seeing her touch you. I wanted to march up and toss her over the railing. I’m not proud of that.”

      He wished he’d seen the obvious fury in her gaze when it all went down, though it was probably for the best that he hadn’t. Roman had no business being pleased with the fact she was jealous, but he was all the same. He slid his fingers deeper into her hair and lightly massaged her scalp. “I’m not interested in anyone but you.”

      “For the next few days.”

      For always. He couldn’t say it. Even with all the extenuating circumstances, it was too soon. Roman had never shied away from what he wanted, though—and what he wanted was Allie Landers.

      He just had to give her a reason to give him a shot.

       Focus.

      “Suck me, Aphrodite. Show me how disinclined you are to share.”

      She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I find myself very disinclined to share.” Allie licked the underside of his cock like a lollipop and then sucked him down.

      Roman had to fight to keep his eyes open, to watch her pretty pink lips move over him. She licked and sucked, her gaze never leaving his face. She worked him like she was laying claim to his cock in a way that had lightning sparking at the small of his back and pressure building in his balls. He wasn’t going out like that, though. Not without touching her. “Come here.” He guided her off him and lifted her onto a chair.

      Roman hit his knees and slid his hands beneath her skirt, pushing the soft fabric up. She wore nothing beneath it, and his breath caught in his throat when he found her wet and ready for him. Not yet. But a taste couldn’t hurt. He hooked her legs on the outside of her chair arms and dipped his head to drag his tongue over her. As long as he lived, he’d never get enough of the taste of Allie on his tongue.

      She moaned and arched her back, offering herself further. “Stroke your cock, Roman. For me.”

      He froze, nearly coming on the spot at her words. Fuck, woman, I’m keeping you.

      Keeping one hand bracketing her thigh, he made a fist around his cock and stroked hard. He was already close from her sucking him off, but he wasn’t about to let himself come before she did. He flicked her clit with his tongue, alternating between circles and those vertical motions that he knew she liked. A frenzy took hold and he devoured her, driven on by her moans and writhing. She was close. So fucking close. His balls drew up, and he fucked her with his tongue, growling against her pussy. Needing more.

      Needing her.

      Allie laced her fingers through his hair, riding his mouth and crying his name as she orgasmed. He gripped his cock harder, roughening his strokes as he followed her over the edge, coming hard enough that he saw stars. He drew back enough to kiss first one of her thighs and then the other, then he pulled her skirt back down over her hips. “Now it’s time for dinner.”

      * * *

      Allie slouched in her chair, feeling completely boneless. “That’s one way to start a meal.”

      “Mmm. Yes.” Roman kissed her stomach and then adjusted her clothing to its correct place. He did up his pants just as efficiently, and she mourned the loss of the sight of him. The man was built magnificently and as good as he looked in clothes, he looked even better out of them.

      He set about doling out food onto two plates with an easy, almost professional quickness. When he nudged a crooked fork back into place, she knew it had to be true. “How long were you a waiter?”

      “Six years. My parents paid for my college, but they are big believers in working for anything worth having, so the rest was up to me. I handled room and board and books and all the other bullshit expenses that show up when you’re in college by working at a local restaurant.” He shook his head. “I will never do it again. Lifetime food service workers are either saints or insane, because nothing brings out the asshole in people as much as the little power they think they have when they’re out to dinner.”

      From the comments he’d made, she’d assumed he’d grown up with money, but knowing he’d had to work for at least part of it made her like him better. “Bet you tip really well.”

      “I can afford to.” He shrugged as if that made a damn bit of difference.

      Allie examined her food, giving him a brief break from a subject that obviously made him uncomfortable. Interesting. He hadn’t minded talking about working the job, but anything resembling evidence that he might be a good guy and he was suddenly closemouthed. She took a sip of wine. “I was a bartender my college years. O’Leary’s.” She saw from his look that he knew it. “Rich guys are the worst tippers out there—unless they think they have a shot at getting into your pants. Trust me, it’s not something that your waitstaff take for granted.”

      “You don’t have to do that.”

      “Do what?” She set her glass down and gave him her full attention.

      Roman studied her. “Convince me that I’m not a total piece of shit. I already know I’m not. I might