The Dare Collection: February 2018. Anne Marsh

slug of lust. She marched ahead down the corridor, in an excellent move that gave him full access to the view of her denim-clad curves swaying as she walked.

      When they were sitting in his Mercedes S-Class side by side, as he navigated the lanes of the Oxfordshire countryside, he glanced over at her striking profile.

      ‘Nervous?’

      She stared out of the window, as if formulating her answer, then sighed. ‘Yes.’

      Her hand rested in her lap. He gripped the wheel to stop himself reaching for it, uncertain of her mood.

      ‘I’ve been before. You’ll love it. And it’s perfectly safe.’

      She turned on him, eyes blazing. ‘Is it? How do you know that?’

      She really was nervous. Perhaps he should have fed her first. Or organised a punt on the river. But he’d wanted to wow her—give her a trip she’d never forget, one she’d embrace when she planned his charity’s marketing. But impressing her, it seemed, was no easy feat. And Able-Active wasn’t named Able-Relaxing.

      ‘I’d never let you get hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

      She looked away, her pouty lips pursed. ‘You can’t guarantee that. People get hurt all the time.’

      His need to know more about her personally solidified.

      ‘Have you been hurt?’

      He recalled the irregular silvery scars he’d spotted on her hip last night. Scars she’d tried to hide. He’d interpreted her reaction to the helicopter as first-time nerves. Assumed her caution was just a personality trait not in keeping with the driven and professional businesswoman. But perhaps there was more to her reticence.

      ‘I—I was in a motorbike accident. Three years ago.’

      Her gaze returned to the hedgerows and the fields of gold and green beyond, which reflected the first rays of the sunrise lighting the horizon.

      His throat thickened. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

      He should have asked about the scars, but it had been obvious she didn’t want to talk about them, didn’t want to talk at all, and he’d been overcome with the sight of her naked and her husky command that he fuck her.

      ‘Were you badly hurt?’ His ribs pinched, stalling his breath.

      She shook her head, shoulders sagging a little. ‘Just some superficial cuts and grazes. I was lucky.’

      He breathed again, more determined than ever to get to know her while showing her a good time. But perhaps he shouldn’t push this. If she’d had a traumatic experience in the past, the last thing he wanted was to force her to relive it.

      He pulled off the road, steering the car down a bumpy lane that opened up to a gravel courtyard and some converted stables. Killing the engine, he turned to face her.

      ‘We’re here. Look, we don’t have to do this. We can get a feel for things, watch a few balloons go up, meet the owner. He’s a friend of mine. If you’re worried, we don’t have to fly. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

       But I’d love to put a grin of exhilaration on your beautiful face.

      Her dark eyes held him hostage. ‘I want to do it.’ She looked down to her clasped hands in her lap. ‘I… I just…’

      Vulnerability poured from her in waves. He ached to hold her. To kiss the frown lines from between her brows. To abandon his plans for the week and hole up with her in his Oxfordshire estate, wining and dining her, peeling back her layers, exploring every facet of her fascinating personality.

      He held out his hand, palm up, over the centre console between them.

      She glanced down and then back up at him, throat moving on a swallow. Slowly, as if she thought his palm might be electrified, she placed her hand in his.

      His chest expanded, a surge of oxygen energising him as it always did when he brokered a difficult business deal.

      ‘Let’s just have a look around. If you want to go up, we can. If you don’t, we’ll just watch a few balloons take off and then go and meet Jack early.’

      She scrunched her brow. ‘Jack?’

      ‘My cousin. He’s an architect and property developer. He’s visiting the hotel building site I want to show you today.’

      She nodded, clearly reaching a decision. ‘No. I want to go up.’

      He grinned. She was so determined. So possessed. Completely hardcore. However much she downplayed her accident, it must have shaken her up. It would shake anyone. And yet she was still willing to buy into his grandiose scheme to show her a good time and his vision for his outdoor adventure charity.

      He squeezed her fingers. ‘Let’s do this.’

      ‘It’s amazing!’ She clung to him.

      He wanted to keep her prisoner in this basket for ever. Her arm was snaked around his waist, her hand under his jacket forcing a fist into his chest to massage his heart until the blood sang through his arteries.

      He positioned his body behind her, his arms either side of her, holding the lip of the basket in front of them, his chin on her shoulder, seeing what she saw.

      ‘Having fun?’

      Her hair tickled his cheek and he pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her neck. Fuck, when she bestowed that rare and beatific smile on him, he felt like a king.

      She laughed—a throaty sound that shot straight to his balls.

      ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

      Her heart pounded so hard and fast, he could feel it thrum through his chest where he was pressed against her back.

      ‘I can’t believe how beautiful it is up here.’ She rested her head back against his shoulder, a small shudder leaving her.

      If he’d orchestrated a huge romantic gesture, he couldn’t have anticipated a more perfect reaction from her. She softened against him, her body heavy, pressing back, covering him from thigh to shoulder. Every time the burner fired and the balloon lurched gracefully higher she laughed, or caught her breath and pressed closer—as if she trusted him over the sturdy basket and the balloon’s skilled operator.

      The only way to improve on this morning would have been for them to have woken side by side, slaking his need to constantly taste her, feel her, be inside her.

      What the actual fuck was happening to him? He barely knew her, but already he wanted more of her.

      ‘Tell me something…’ His lips traced her earlobe, catching the small gold earring dangling there. Would she play the game they’d started over dinner last night? Would her personal admissions soften like her body?

      She sighed—a soft escape of air. ‘I’m a trained yoga instructor, although I haven’t taught for many years.’

      He groaned, his imagination running wild. ‘Fuck, could you be any hotter? I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a naked demonstration of the Downward-facing Dog?’

      ‘Pervert!’

      Her chuckle warmed his blood, lifting him higher than the balloon could ever carry him.

      ‘You tell me something.’

      Her words echoed his and he grinned. She relaxed deeper into his chest. Her delicious scent tickled his nose.

      He took a deep breath. ‘I was a game developer in my teens. A real bona fide computer nerd.’

      And he’d had the dodgy haircut to prove it—a detail she didn’t need to know.

      ‘I guessed. The T-shirt yesterday kinda gave you away.’

      He