The Dare Collection: February 2018. Anne Marsh

hand slid the length of her thigh, gripping behind her knee and encouraging her to climb onto the bed on all fours.

      A thrill of excitement fluttered in her belly. She turned her head, her bold stare meeting his over her shoulder. But his eyes skittered away, tracing her back, her hips, and returning.

      ‘Your hair is beautiful.’ He twisted his wrist, the thick coil of hair sliding through his fingers only to be captured again. ‘I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I met you.’

      His wrist was rolling. Again and again. Her hair tumbling away, then being recaptured. All the while his other hand traced a path of fire from her breast to her hip and returned via her arched back.

      Moisture pooled between her legs. Anticipation coiled deep inside. Would he push inside her like this? She felt a bead of moisture in the small of her back, where his hard length rested. This position—the view of her perched on all fours, her hair wrapped in his fist, ready for him, brought the breath gusting from him as sure as her own shallow pants.

      She closed her eyes, envisaging him behind her, taking her hard, her hair in his hand, while he grunted out the pleasure he was too far gone to contain. She wanted him wild. Wanted him too impassioned to maintain his gentleman’s persona. Wanted him possessive and selfish in his need for her.

      ‘Do you have any idea what you do to me, Libby?’

      The path of his hand paused at her shoulder, one finger tracing a featherlike trail down the bumps of her spine while he ground the length of his erection into her wet sex. It wasn’t enough. She wanted him filling her. Pushing her to the edge again while he shouted her name.

      ‘Alex…’

      ‘I’ve never wanted anything more.’

      His voice was a gruff whisper. He pulled his hips back and she groaned, missing the contact.

      ‘And I can’t have you.’

      His finger slid between the cheeks of her ass, passing slowly, gliding south.

      ‘Not all of you.’

      He found her entrance, fingers probing, a tug on her hair.

      ‘Trouble is…’

      His wet finger travelled north again, pleasure dancing under the firm pressure of the tip.

      ‘I want all of you.’

      He plunged two fingers inside her, spreading them to open her sensitive walls.

      ‘More than fucking.’

      He tugged her hair, tilting her head back.

      ‘More than a few stolen days.’

      She twisted, opening her eyes to glance back at him.

      His eyes burned with an intensity she’d yet to witness.

      ‘I want it all.’

      He latched his stare to hers. The raw hunger she saw in his features, slack with lust, need burning in the depths of his eyes, stole her breath. She had no time to answer or to acknowledge his words. No time to untangle the knotted threads of her own feelings.

      Alex released her hair, flipped her onto her back and climbed above her.

      His kisses started with her mouth, all too soon departing for her throat and her shoulders. Her restless hands clawed at him, her nails likely leaving marks, but she was helpless, and for the first time in years she was accepting the state instead of trying to outrun it. Completely at his mercy and—for now—his.

      His mouth lavished her breasts, nipping and sucking until her legs twisted around his in an attempt to bring them closer together.

      When he traced her belly with his lips, his hands pushing her thighs apart, she thought she’d die, so great was the need coiled inside her. She cradled his face while he suckled her sex, his grunts of pleasure vibrating through her clit.

      His mouth left her abruptly and he kneeled between her thighs, his stare tracing her from top to toe.

      ‘I want all of you. I want you to be mine.’

      He reached for the condom he’d tossed on the bed earlier and ripped into it, his eyes holding her captive, bold, daring her as he sheathed himself.

      And then he was pushing inside her, and her hands were clasped in his, their fingers interlocked as if they’d never let go, his stare eating her alive and his body rigid above her like a man on the edge.

      His head dipped to her breast once more, his hot mouth drawing out her cries and whimpers as his hips ground into hers. Within two or three thrusts she came, clinging to him with everything she had as the slow-rolling spasms rocked her time and time again.

      ‘Yes…’ he murmured around her flesh, nibbling at her tortured nipple with firm lips and licks of fire from the gentle scrape of his teeth. ‘Give me more, Olivia. Give me everything.’

      He kept up the suction, carrying her past the molten liquid phase until the sharp bite of arousal gripped her once more. Sweat gathered at Alex’s hairline. He shifted, stretching her hands above her head and raising himself up on his knees to deepen the penetration. His smooth gliding thrusts picked up tempo, jerking to pound her sex with the wildness she’d craved.

      His teeth gripped his bottom lip as he fought for his own pleasure. She wanted to push him over, as he’d pushed her. She longed to give him what she knew he wanted. Some promise. Some commitment. Some acknowledgment that what they had between them was as unique for her as he’d hinted it was for him.

      She wriggled her hands free of his, reaching between them to cup his face. He twisted his head, his lips kissing the centre of one palm before he sought her eyes once more.

      Muscles bulged in his jaw. His face contorted as his hips grew more frantic. ‘Come with me, Libby.’

      She gripped his face tighter, her stare seeking deep inside his. “Alex… I…’

      He roared, his face twisted with rapture as he came, grasping her shoulders and giving her a third orgasm as surely as he’d given her a part of himself.

      Libby pressed her toes into the soft sand. The tiny grains reflected the glint of a perfect Mediterranean morning. This early, they practically had the strip of golden beach to themselves, the only sounds the occasional cry of a gull and the constant drone of jet ski engines.

      She lifted one hand to shield her eyes, catching a glimpse of Alex streaking ahead of Jack as they traversed the bay, plumes of water in their wakes. Her stomach lurched, and the familiar jolt of adrenaline was one of the reasons she’d opted for sunbathing over skimming the surface of the Med on little more than a bicycle with a propeller.

      She flopped back onto her lounger, closing her eyes and forcing herself to think of something other than death or permanent injury. Only one thought emerged—Alex. Opening up to him last night had left her palms damp and her mouth dry. But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it for one second. They’d fallen asleep covered in each other, as close as two people could be. Breathing the same air, skin touching from head to toe, sharing soft, sleepy kisses until unconsciousness claimed them.

      It changed nothing. This time tomorrow she’d be on a flight back to New York. But something inside her had renewed. A hard kernel had cracked open and the tiny green shoot inside, delicate but brave, was pushing into the sunlight. She’d developed feelings for him. In the space of a few short days. A cliché. A whirlwind. Completely blindsiding her.

      Now what? Pining over the changes to her working relationship with Sonya, reeling from her conflicted emotions, living a whole continent away? The obstacles seemed greater than ever. And Alex hadn’t verbalised his feelings beyond stating that he wanted to see her again. Perhaps he’d meant once a year, when he travelled to New York on business.

      And the reasons for her reluctance still simmered inside her. When he’d winked and suggested she ride pillion with him on the jet ski she’d shrunk