The Dare Collection January 2019. JC Harroway

inside.

      God, why was I obeying him?

      My anger gathered tighter, not so much claws now as a hot ember burning a hole right through me and I turned, only to find him standing right behind me, the look on his face fierce, intent.

      He began to walk forward, making me stumble back, my heart beating fast and getting faster at the gathering darkness in his eyes.

      Energy was crackling off him, an electricity I could feel pushing against my skin, heating me up from the inside and making me burn.

      ‘Do you know what you’ve done, Poppy Valentine?’ His voice was soft and cold and dark as he stalked towards me. ‘Do you have any idea at all?’

      ‘What?’ I always seemed to be retreating before him and I didn’t want to. Yet something inside me wouldn’t let me stand my ground and I found myself continuing to back away. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Give me my book, dammit.’

      ‘No.’ He kept on coming. ‘Not until you understand exactly what game you’ve been playing.’

      ‘I haven’t been playing any damn game.’ The edge of his desk pressed hard against the backs of my thighs, stopping me from going any further. ‘Stop being a tool, Xander.’

      He closed the distance between us until he was standing right in front of me. Then he slammed my sketchbook down on the desk and put his palms down on either side of my hips, making me lean back to avoid being pressed against his lean, hard body.

      I fought for breath, the force of that furious gaze making something inside me go weak.

      He wasn’t so cool and stern now. No, now he was staring at me as if nothing else in the entire world existed for him but me. And I hadn’t known how badly I’d wanted him to look at me like that until now.

      ‘You delicious little bitch.’ Rough heat threaded through his deep, cold voice. ‘Where do you get off kissing me like that? Without even asking? Do you know how long I’ve spent fighting the urge to do just that? How long I’ve spent fighting the urge to simply push you against the nearest wall and fuck you till we both can’t breathe?’ He leaned in a bit more, his obsidian eyes inches away, his beautiful mouth nearly brushing mine. ‘I’ve wanted you for years,’ he breathed. ‘Fucking years.’

      There was a roaring in my ears. He’d wanted to...fuck me?

      But I didn’t get a chance to process what he was saying because he kept on going.

      ‘I tried to do the right thing, to be good and not touch you, because you were my stepsister and I knew you hated me. But that didn’t stop me from wanting you.’ His gaze searched mine, not cold any longer but hot with anger and something else... Desire. ‘I held out against it. Avoided you when I could. Ignored you when I couldn’t avoid you. And it worked. It fucking worked. Until you waltzed in with your perky little tits in a see-through blouse and you grabbed my tie, and you kissed me. You kissed me.’ The look on his face burned with intensity, with fury. ‘That’s not how it’s supposed to go. That’s not how it’s supposed to go at all. You destroyed years of self-control, and for what? To get one over on me? To make a point?’

      My brain reeled. I still couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. He’d wanted me for years? But he hated me... Didn’t he?

      ‘You crossed the line.’ He leaned forward even more, his body mere millimetres from mine. ‘You did, not me. Remember that, Poppy. Because now you have some consequences to face.’

      My heartbeat was loud in my head, my brain struggling to keep up with all the stuff he was throwing at me. But thinking was difficult with him being so close and so hot, his mouth within kissing distance.

      I knew I should try to shove him back, but I couldn’t look away from him. He held me mesmerised and when he gripped my hips and lifted me onto the desktop I didn’t make a sound. Not even when his hands settled on my thighs and he pushed my skirt up and spread my knees, forcing his lean hips between them.

      I was shaking all of a sudden, my heart in my throat, achingly conscious of his hands on my thighs, his fingers resting on the hem of my skirt while his thumbs brushed against my bare skin.

      It burned where he touched, like being brushed with a naked flame.

      He said nothing, did nothing. Simply stood there and looked at me, his midnight eyes full of fire. Demanding something from me that I wasn’t sure how to give.

      My breathing became ragged and embarrassingly loud in the silence of the office, and I felt like I was falling somehow. Like the world was spinning out of control and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

      ‘Well?’ he demanded at last. ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’

      ‘I don’t... I mean, I c-can’t...’

      ‘You kissed me.’ His thumbs had begun to trace small circles on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, sending goosebumps everywhere, making me break out into a sweat. ‘Did you really think I was going to do nothing about it? That it didn’t matter to me?’

      ‘I didn’t know. It was just a s-stupid kiss.’

      Those flames in his eyes leapt high. ‘No,’ he murmured, a harsh note of warning in his voice. ‘It wasn’t just a stupid kiss. You took what wasn’t yours and you thought you could get away with it, but you can’t. I’m not going to let you.’ He slid one hand higher, his fingers trailing along my inner thigh, watching me all the while. ‘You’ve been a bad girl and I’ve spent years wanting to teach you a lesson. Now I’m going to. Are you ready?’

      I should have told him no and shoved him away, but I didn’t.

      I couldn’t.

      I was trembling, my breathing getting faster and faster, unable to hide my response to his touch this time. And he knew. It was probably written all over my face.

      I’d never forget the first time I realised that the emotional pull I felt towards him had become sexual.

      It was so stupid that even now I cringed to think about it.

      One Christmas, a friend of his father’s had come over and he’d brought his little dog. The dog had been anxious and had started barking and being aggressive. But Xander had simply given it a stern look and told it to sit down and be quiet. And there had been something in his voice, a note of quiet authority that had made my knees go weak. The dog had done exactly what he’d said and then he’d sat down beside the animal, stroking it gently, telling it what a good dog it was. And the dog had simply slumped against his feet like he’d found a new master.

      I’d wanted to be that animal in that moment. I’d wanted to be the one he told to sit down and be quiet. So I could stop fighting, stop trying to be someone different and just be me. To rest against him and have him stroke me, tell me what a good girl I was. Be at peace with myself.

      Have his hand on my skin. Do whatever he said. Please him.

      I’d never had those thoughts about anyone else. Just him.

      And right now, sitting on the desk, staring into his demanding dark eyes with his hands on my skin, I felt it again. The need to show him I could be good. To have his attention and his praise. To stop fighting the desperate pull I had towards him and simply accept it.

      ‘Yes,’ I said thickly, helplessly. ‘I’m ready.’

      His gaze flared and he didn’t hesitate, sliding his hand all the way up between my thighs until his fingers brushed over the front of my knickers.

      I gasped. The touch was electric, making me shudder, the expression on his face turning feral with satisfaction.

      ‘You’re wet.’ His voice was gravelly and so deep I could feel the vibration of it in my chest. ‘You want me, don’t you?’ His fingers began to trace the folds of my sex through the lace of my underwear, his touch light in sharp contrast to the ferocity burning in his eyes.