The Dare Collection: August 2018. Avril Tremayne

      “I am, but—”

      “How old are you?” It was another pertinent question I hadn’t yet asked. She was over the age of consent but the flashes of innocence I spotted every now and then demanded investigation.

      “Twenty-four,” she answered with a frown. “How old are you?” she tossed back.

      If she didn’t know then she’d told the truth about skimming my past. That put a plus tick in her favor.

      “I’m asking the questions here, but if it’ll make you cooperate, I’m twenty-nine. I’m six-foot-four. I have all my own hair and teeth. Oh, and I’m single.”

      A hungry little expression flitted across her face but she hid it well. “How long have you been a fixer?” she returned.

      “You must have missed what I just said about questions.”

      “I’m supposed to trust you with my safety. I deserve to know a little bit about you, don’t you think?”

      Fair point. In her shoes, I would have a few hundred questions, too. She wasn’t a blind follower. Another turn-on. Still... “You get three questions. After you answer all of mine.”

      That earned me a sarcastically raised eyebrow that somehow managed to connect straight to my cock. Fuck.

      “What’s your deal with SDM? You said you had history,” I said.

      Her face immediately shuttered. “They put me through college and hired me straight after.”

      Interesting. “And college was?”

      “MIT.”

      “You’re from the East originally?”

      The waiter arrived at our table. Lily ordered a soda and six bite-size platters of assorted dishes without consulting the menu.

      “I’ll have what she’s having but with a beer,” I said.

      The waiter nodded and hurried away.

      “Why does it matter whether I’m from the East or not?” she asked warily.

      “Is that one of your questions for me?”

      “It’s a query generated by the fact that I think you’re wasting time on pointless questions.”

      She was unsettled by my line of questioning. Which triggered a need to know more. “You’re being stalked, Lily. You don’t think details of your background will inform me as to who is after you?”

      Her shoulders slumped a little but in direct contrast, her chin angled up. “Fine, I grew up in Maine, but we moved to Boston when I was ten.”

      “We?”

      “My stepdad and I. And before you ask, neither of my biological parents are in the picture. They haven’t been for a very long time.”

      I crunched on that piece of information for a minute. I wanted details but sensed it wasn’t an easy subject, so I dropped it. I had ways to find that out on my own anyway.

      “You have a boyfriend?” Living alone didn’t mean she wasn’t seeing anyone.

      Her mouth—her very fuckable mouth—compressed but I spotted the flicker of anguished fury in her eyes. The kind that came from a nasty betrayal. “No. I don’t have a boyfriend. If I did, I wouldn’t—” She stopped short.

      “What? Have sex toys?” I shrugged. “That could indicate a voracious appetite, not the absence of a sex life. Although I’m guessing you’re not the kind of girl to wrap your legs around a man’s waist and rub your pussy so beautifully against his cock if you belonged to another?”

      “God, you’re unbelievable,” she said under her breath.

      “I’m plain-speaking. There’s a difference, sweetheart.” Mixed signals led to complications. After Kirsten, I wasn’t prepared to take that risk.

      “When was your last relationship, casual or otherwise?” I pressed. It was obvious I would need to pry every piece of info from her.

      Her gaze dropped, and she toyed with the tableware. “Eight months ago.”

      “How long were you together?” Where did you meet? I hope he was a lousy kisser and even worse in bed.

       Jesus, Caleb. Get a fucking grip.

      “Six months.”

      Not long by any stretch, but long enough for me to be mildly jealous at the thought of some guy having a claim on her.

      The waiter’s arrival gave me a moment to examine that jealousy, grimace with disgust at myself for sticking steadfastly to my second and third rules.

      I watched her pick up a roll of sushi with her chopsticks and dip it in teriyaki sauce. I did the same and we ate in silence for a while.

      “Who ended the relationship?”

      She froze. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at her glistening mouth, wondering how it would feel when I slid my cock between her lips.

      I looked up. She was staring at me. Her cheeks heated up as she accurately read my thoughts.

      “Answer the question, Lily.”

      She dropped her chopsticks, her face tightening again. “I did. And you’re wasting your time with this. Scott isn’t the one doing this.”

      “I’ll be the judge of that—”

      “No! I know what I’m talking about so please drop it,” she hissed.

      “Not until you tell me why any guy whose veins aren’t filled with ice water would quietly walk away from you?”

      Her lashes swept down for a moment, then rose again, a challenging fire in her eyes. “Not every guy I come into contact with is a potential stalker.”

      “Scott wasn’t just any guy, though, was he? What aren’t you telling me, Lily?”

      She remained silent for a long stretch. And I waited her out, biting down my impatience.

      “Because Scott wasn’t just a guy I met at a party. Chance paid him to seek me out.”

      Shock bolted up my spine. “What? Why?”

      She swallowed and her hands balled into small fists. When she lifted her gaze her beautiful green eyes were far too haunted. “Because he wanted...wants to control me.”

      Jesus. “Again, why?”

      “What does it matter?” she snapped. “All you need to know is SDM and Chance need this algorithm. It’d be absurd for him to jeopardize it by having someone stalk me, so just...just take my word for it that it’s not Scott, okay?”

      I didn’t voice the world’s worst cliché right then because I didn’t want to piss her off even more, or sound like a hormone-addled teenager but, fuck me, she was so incredibly gorgeous when she was mad I lost the ability to think clearly for a minute.

      I let her take the deep breaths she needed to calm down.

      “You slip into Bostonian when you’re agitated, you know that? It’s cute.”

      She looked adorably nonplussed before she shook her head. “Nothing about any of this is cute, Mr. Steele.”

      “I disagree. I wonder, do you sound like that during sex, too?”

      Green eyes snapped fire at me. “You’ll never find out.”

      I couldn’t help myself. I had to touch her again. I reached out and traced the curve of her lower lip with my finger. Soft. Firm. Satin-smooth. “Are you sure about that, Lily?”

      She inhaled sharply and her eyes turned a shade darker. “Can we not turn everything into a sexual tennis match?