The Dare Collection January 2019. JC Harroway

and that was enough.

      ‘What is it, Poppy?’ Xander asked, not looking up from his screen.

      Before, it would have annoyed me that he didn’t look at me, but I’d started to understand that while he was at work Xander gave his whole attention to whatever task he was doing, letting it consume him utterly and getting very annoyed when he was disturbed.

      It wasn’t personal in any way.

      Besides, I benefited from it since, after work, that very same attention would be focused entirely on me.

      ‘Something for your signature,’ I said.

      ‘Thank you. Leave it on the desk.’

      I did so, giving him a covert hungry glance from underneath my lashes.

      He looked good today, in a dark blue suit with a white shirt that drew attention to his black hair and midnight eyes, intensifying them, making them look even blacker than they were already.

      I loved those eyes. Loved the intense stare he gave me whenever he ordered me to do something, letting me know how much pleasure I gave him whenever I obeyed him.

      It was addictive.

      Damn, why wasn’t the work day over already?

      I turned to leave.

      ‘Wait,’ he said.

      I stilled then turned back to him, my heart thumping.

      This time he was looking directly at me, making my breath catch hard. ‘Did you want something?’

       Like a blow job from underneath your desk maybe?

      Xander took something from the drawer in his desk, placed it on the desktop then pushed it towards me. ‘I should have given this back to you a few days ago, but I kept it. It...interested me.’

      It was my sketchbook.

      A weird feeling clenched hard inside me.

      I’d forgotten he’d taken it. I’d forgotten so completely I hadn’t even thought to look for it. I hadn’t even remembered he still hadn’t given it back.

      Part of me wanted to snatch it back and hide it, but I stayed where I was. He’d had it for a couple of days now so of course he would have looked inside it. He would have seen all my drawings and sketches—seen the dream house I’d always wanted to build.

      He was looking at me now, those dark eyes studying me like I was a well performing stock portfolio. ‘Your drawings,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought they were fantastic.’

      I blinked, shocked for some reason. ‘You...what?’

      ‘I want to take them to Ajax,’ he went on, his gaze pinning me in place as surely as his lean, strong hands. ‘I want to show him some of your buildings. We’re developing some luxury apartments at the moment, but the architects haven’t been able to deliver us a design we like.’ He nodded to the book. ‘What you’ve got in there could be the thing we’re looking for.’

      The shock spread out, making me feel odd.

      My professors at university hadn’t been overly complimentary about any of my designs and my marks hadn’t been stellar. I’d done okay, but not brilliantly. Solidly middle of the road.

      I’d been fine with that. I’d just wanted to pass, that was all, get my degree and get a job doing what I loved, which was creating spaces for people to live in and enjoy. I’d never be a prodigy and that was okay.

      Yet to have Xander tell me that they were fantastic was...

      I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to ask him if he’d been looking at other people’s drawings somehow, not mine. That mine weren’t that wonderful and he must have been mistaken.

      ‘You...liked them?’ I managed to get out, my voice scratchy and not a little stunned-sounding.

      ‘Very much.’ He grabbed the book and flicked open one of the pages to the little home I’d designed for myself. The one that sat on the cliff above the sea. ‘Something along the lines of this. It’s amazing.’

      Much to my horror, tears pricked suddenly behind my eyes and I had to blink hard to clear them. And he must have seen because he rose to his feet, his frown becoming thunderous. ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘Nothing.’ I turned away, trying to force down the intense burst of emotion that had flooded through me. ‘I’m okay.’

      ‘No, you’re not.’

      I should have remembered that he could move fast and silently when he wanted because, before I could say a word or move, I felt his hands close around my upper arms and he was turning me gently towards him.

      His dark gaze stared down into mine. ‘You’re crying,’ he pointed out relentlessly. ‘Why?’

      His touch made me shiver, heat pulsing through me. ‘It’s stupid,’ I said, feeling embarrassed at my reaction and hating myself for it.

      ‘Tell me what the problem is and I’ll tell you whether it’s stupid or not.’

      I didn’t want to tell him. It felt too exposing, like opening up my soul for him to read.

       And getting down on your knees and putting his cock in your mouth wasn’t exposing? Letting him turn you over his knee didn’t make you vulnerable?

      Yeah, but that was different. For some reason it was easier to make myself vulnerable physically than it was emotionally.

      Especially when it concerned my designs.

      Especially when it concerned that design.

      But Xander’s gaze was consuming, focusing on me the way he did, as if there was nothing and no one more important in the entire universe than me and my answer.

      It made me breathless, made the words spill out of me whether I wanted them to or not. ‘It’s stupid,’ I repeated. ‘Just...no one’s ever been interested in my designs before. I mean, my professors liked them well enough, but my marks were never that great. I was never one of those architectural prodigies.’

      His frown became even more ferocious. ‘Your designs are smart and subtle, and incredibly liveable. I can’t believe none of them ever mentioned that to you.’

      ‘Yeah, well, they didn’t.’ I swallowed, a flash of my old defensiveness lighting up inside me. Because really, since when did I need a man to validate me? ‘Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?’

      His eyes glittered. ‘Numbers are my forte, it’s true. But I know a good building when I see one and that house you drew, the one on the cliff, is a good building.’

      My throat felt tight, thick. It shouldn’t mean so much to me that he liked that house. I really shouldn’t care. But I did.

      His thumbs moved on my upper arms, caressing me absently, sending whispers of heat prickling along my skin. ‘That house. You drew it with care and great attention to detail. Why?’

      I wanted to dismiss it, to tell him it was nothing, just a drawing. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. ‘Because it’s...my house.’ The words were too raw, too full of emotion, and I wished I could take them back but, now they were out, all I could do was continue. ‘It’s the house I want to build for myself one day. A house that’s mine, where I...belong.’

      His black brows drew together, his gaze a black hole, drawing me in. ‘Why do you want to build a house?’

      ‘Remember you told me that you never had anything that was yours? Well, I never did either. I never had a place that was mine. Where I belonged.’ Perhaps it was stupid to tell him about things that mattered to me, to show him where I was most vulnerable. But then...he’d told me about his dog, about Seven. He’d told me about his lonely-sounding childhood, so maybe this would be okay. And maybe he’d even understand.