Dare Me Again

by Alexander, Shelly

  “The cold won’t kill me,” she whispered. “I’ve got a roof over my head.”

  Elliott’s gaze roamed her face. “You’ve said similar things since you’ve been here. Several times. That can’t be a coincidence. I’d hate to think you were ever”—the wheels in that magnificent mind of his were obviously churning because he seemed to be picking his words carefully—“without a bed to sleep in.”

  If she’d been standing, her knees would’ve given way.

  She’d kept it inside for so long, she hadn’t even realized how much she wanted someone to know what had really happened. Wanted someone to know what she’d been through and how sorry she was for the damage her mother had inflicted.

  Wanted Elliott to know how hard it’d been to leave him and why he’d been better off that she did.

  She wanted to tell him all of it.

  His hungry look said he wanted all of her.

  “Don’t worry about me. I learned to survive on my own a long time ago.” At that moment, the loneliness she’d felt since she’d left the island crashed in on her. He’d been her only source of comfort, the only person who’d cared. The only person she’d ever let love her, because her trust in people had been crushed long ago.

  “Everybody needs someone.” His voice had gone thick with concern.

  She didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she reached out and molded a palm to his strong jaw. “Thank you for caring even when you have every reason not to.” His stubble was thicker now than it had been when they were teens, and it prickled her fingers, sending a thrilling current of electricity up her arm to settle in her nipples.

  She didn’t plan to let it go any further, but she wanted to feel him against her hand for just one moment. One gentle touch that she could hold on to for a lifetime.

  He covered her hand with his and turned his mouth in to her palm to feather kisses over it.

  Her deep intake of breath must’ve said it all, because he didn’t stop. He took the base of her palm between his teeth and sucked, then trailed soft kisses over the inside of her wrist.

  “Elliott,” she rasped out.

  He shifted, closing the space between them, and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her gently, much softer than he had in his office. His scorching lips brushed across hers. Once, twice, then he nipped at the corner of her mouth. “This is the spot that drives me crazy when you nibble at it.” He nipped again. “Like this.”

  Heat rushed through her veins, making her hardened nipples ache and the moist spot between her thighs throb with need. She buried both hands in his hair.

  She rubbed her cheek against his so his light stubble grazed her skin and sent another shiver quaking through her. “This is what drives me crazy. The feel of it against my skin. Remembering how it used to feel between my—”

  He growled, devouring her with a hungry, mouthwatering, thigh-clenching kiss. She opened for him, inviting him in. His lovely demanding tongue searched and probed, teasing and taunting until she whimpered out his name.

  He rolled her onto her back with another impatient growl. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist. He lowered his hips to grind against hers, and she cried out, clawing at his back.

  Pure bliss engulfed her, and before she knew it, her shirt was unbuttoned, and he was pulling down her bra with his teeth. The cool air against her exposed skin hardened her nipples even more.

  He rose above her, bracing his weight on both arms. “God, woman, but you are fucking gorgeous.”

  She wasn’t sure she could form words. “So . . . are . . . you,” she panted out, hardly able to breathe. Definitely not able to think clearly.

  When he dipped his head and pulled a nipple into his warm mouth, she couldn’t stop another cry of pleasure from slipping out.

  He chuckled against her skin, his warm breaths whispering over her flesh and turning her insides to surface-of-the-sun hot. His talented tongue stroked her rigid peak. And being such a gentleman, he moved to her other breast, took it between his teeth, and applied just enough pressure for a sweet sting to make her gasp.

  She fisted his hair in her hands and arched into him, filling his mouth with her tender flesh. “Oh God.” She couldn’t take much more. He was about to bring her home without even taking her pants off.

  Just when she thought it couldn’t get much better, when she couldn’t get much closer to the edge without falling into oblivion, he did a wonderful, delicious lick-and-circle trick around her nipple with the tip of his tongue and ground his hips into hers again.

  She shrieked. Literally shrieked. Dear Lord.

  He laughed, his rigid length pressing into her center. “Shhh,” he teased. “That high-pitched sound might make the dogs start howling.”

  She pinched his shoulder. “So much for you caring about an audience.”

  He pulled the extra blanket he’d brought over their heads to cover them completely. “There. It’s just us now.” He went back to nibbling on her earlobe and the soft flesh behind it.

  She shivered. “Maybe we should stop. Before it’s too late.” Before they made a mistake they’d both likely regret. Except that her hands found their way between them, and she fumbled with the opening of his jeans.

  “I can feel your hot wetness through both our clothes.” He suckled the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder. “But say the word and we’re done.”

  She swallowed. She couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t she stop? His button popped open, and she searched for the tab of his zipper. “This is bad,” she whispered against his lips.

  “So bad.” His tongue delved into her mouth again, and one hand edged in between the blanket and her butt to flex into her cheek.

  Finally, her fingers found the tab and eased down the zipper. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Was this really happening? Was she really doing this?

  Rem poked his snout under the blanket and licked Rebel’s cheek, likely sensing her anxiety.

  “Rem! Bad dog!” she scolded before she could think straight.

  Elliott went completely still, every muscle in his body tensing.

  Oh no.

  She covered her face with her hands. Not only had she scolded her service dog for doing his job, but she’d just given away top-secret information about his name.

  Not one muscle in Elliott’s rock-hard body moved. Only his labored breaths washed over her.

  She spread her fingers to look at him, too humiliated to move her hands.

  He rolled off her and sat up, straightening his clothes. He propped an elbow on his bent knee and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s time for you to explain a few things.” He let his hand dangle over his knee. “Look at me.”

  The crispness of his tone made her want to shrink away. She scrambled to pull up her bra and button her shirt. Then she sat up, Rem nudging his head under her hand.

  “Look at me, Rebel.” Elliott’s voice was bitter. Brittle. Broken.

  It took every bit of courage she possessed, but she met his gaze, and what she saw there nearly destroyed her. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t disappointment. It was pain. Pain that she’d inflicted so many years ago, and it was still raw and real.

  “I’m so sorry.” And she was. For so many things.

  “I need answers,” he said. “Starting with why you walked away while I was at college. If you didn’t care about me anymore, then why would you name your dog Rem?”

  “You deserve answers, Elliott.” He also deserved better than her, better than the shame she’d bring to him and his family. “But I can’t give them to you.” Not without dragging him into the same private hell she’d lived in for years.

  “Anything, Rebel.” His voice was almost a plea. “Throw me a bone here.”

  If she started, even with just a few ambiguous morsels of information, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and those dark secrets could never come to light. She shook her head, fisting the front of her shirt at the collarbone. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why not?” His voice turn
ed frustrated, and Rem went to his side.

  She couldn’t blame either Elliott or the dog for not sticking by her side. She drew her knees up to her chest. “I think you should go.”

  He sat there for a long time.

  She couldn’t look at him. She just couldn’t.

  Finally, he blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m staying. You go.”

  “Elliott, I’m the trainer. It’s my job.”

  “Go!” He lay down on the blanket with his back to her, pulled the pillow under his head, and punched it.

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. She hurried to the door. “Come on, Rem.” She hit the button to open the garage door. As it raised, she turned to look for Rem.

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes.

  Both Rem and Bogart huddled at Elliott’s back and wouldn’t budge.

  For the first time since that first stray had found her alone on a park bench and she’d named him Rem, she was without the companionship of a dog. Without comfort. Without unconditional love.

  And she’d brought it on herself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  #CHIVALRYISDEAD

  Early the next morning, Elliott stood under the shower, letting the hot water sluice over his aching muscles. If he had to spend another night sleeping on the garage floor, he’d damn sure bring in a rollaway bed from the main lodge.

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

  The veterans were scheduled to arrive later that morning, and once they were matched, the service dogs would sleep in the guest rooms with their new companions. Or so their expert dog whisperer had told him.

  Somehow, she’d also become an expert at driving his mind, his imagination, and his body wild. Which was another reason his muscles were balled into knots.

  He dropped his head forward, letting the water drench his hair and roll down the back of his spasming neck. The heat and steam soothed the bunched muscles in his aching back.

  He braced both arms against the tile wall, steam swirling around him. Letting his head fall back, he closed his eyes as the water splattered his face. Did no good. Rebel’s taste still clung to his lips. Her scent was still fused to his skin. Her touch still invaded his mind.

  After the hot shower, he needed one helluva cup of strong coffee to clear his head.

  The sponsor had also promised Elliott a conversation today, and he needed to bring his A game. Convince Down Home Dog Food to ship in the handlers so the camp would stand a chance at success. Then he could rejoin the real world.

  It was either that or lose his job and his life savings.

  His shoulders tensed again.

  Rem whined, and his head appeared around the shower curtain. Bogart nudged the curtain, and his head appeared too.

  When Elliott had left the garage to get cleaned up, he hadn’t had the heart to leave his new furry friends behind. Not after they’d shunned their owner to stay with him last night. How had he gone from animals hating him to babysitting a jumpy service dog and a handicapped stray?

  “I’ll be done in a sec, guys.”

  Rem.

  What. The. Hell?

  It made no sense. Why would she walk away with no explanation, only to name one of her dogs after him all these years later? He’d suspected she had secrets. Since she’d been back on the island, she’d certainly dropped enough veiled clues. Last night had confirmed his suspicions.

  Not that he had any room to talk. The guilt he carried over his mom was something he’d take to his grave. He supposed everyone had secrets. Everyone carried private pain.

  Something told him the strange way he’d found Rebel sitting in the rain earlier that week across from Morgan’s Market fit into the equation. He just wasn’t sure how.

  A fist pounded on the bathroom door. “Hey, asshat,” Spence hollered. “Don’t use up all the hot water.”

  Elliott dragged a hand down his face, wiping away the thick drops of water. He reached for the knobs and shut off the shower. “Keep your panties on, Sleeping Beauty.” Growing up in the hotel business, all the Remingtons had been conditioned to rise early, but Spence was never a morning person. He’d still been snoozing in his room when Elliott got home with the dogs. He wrapped a towel around his waist and flung the door wide.

  Spence’s brows drew together when he saw Rem and Bogart. “Wow.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Elliott shook out his wet hair, spraying Spence.

  Spence held up both hands as a shield. “When are you gonna move into your own place?”

  Tightness cinched around Elliott’s lungs. He certainly couldn’t delve into that subject while he was still trying to process what had happened with Rebel in the garage. He pushed past Spence and walked into the hall, turning left toward the kitchen. “Got coffee made yet?”

  “Hold up, bro,” Spence said. “You’ve got—”

  Elliott rounded the corner into the den and stopped short.

  Rebel was standing by the sofa. Black athletic pants and a fitted top clung to every inch of her. She was covered from her ankles to her neck, yet there was nothing left to the imagination. That was saying something, because he’d imagined plenty.

  Her hands were stuffed into a fleece jacket that was unzipped, and she shifted from one black-and-gray camo running shoe to the other, the bright-pink laces snagging his gaze. He let his eyes slide up and over every sensual curve, every lush contour.

  When he reached her flushed face, he realized she was doing the same to him.

  She chewed the corner of her mouth as her eyes coasted over him. He should be cold and uncomfortable in nothing but a towel, his bare, wet chest exposed to the cool air. But naw. His chest expanded at the approval in her eyes, and he let her take in her fill.

  “You’ve got company,” Spence said from behind him.

  No shit. “Thanks for the heads-up,” Elliott smarted off as Rem and Bogart trotted into the den.

  Her expression brightened when she saw the dogs but dimmed again when they stayed at Elliott’s side instead of darting to her as they usually did.

  He gave them the okay command, and Bogart hopped to Rebel. Rem didn’t move. “You too, boy. Go ahead, Rem.” Elliott gave Rebel a satisfied smile.

  The color drained from her face, and strained silence filled the room.

  Rem and Bogart crowded around her legs.

  Spence gave Elliott a questioning look.

  He responded by scratching his left shoulder, code for Tell you later.

  Spence cleared his throat. “So Elliott was just asking for coffee. Want some, Rebel?”

  “No, thanks,” she said. “I just came to get my dogs.” She bent to pet them. “When you weren’t in the garage this morning, I found Charley in the kitchen. She said I’d probably find you here.”

  A knock sounded on the front door, and it swung open before anyone could respond. Trace walked in.

  “Sure, come on in,” Spence said. “All we need is music and a tub of beer, and it’ll be a party.” He glanced at his watch. “At seven in the morning.” He eyed both his brothers. “At my house.”

  “I thought you were making coffee?” Elliott asked.

  “Make your own.” Spence headed for the front door. “I’ve got stripes to paint on the new parking lot I just laid.”

  “Warehouse,” Trace corrected as Spence pushed past him. “I need you to finish expanding the boathouse into a warehouse.”

  “And I need you to make coffee,” Elliott called after his youngest brother.

  Spence didn’t bother with their secret code. Instead, he flipped them the universal hand signal for Up yours over a shoulder. “It’s Saturday morning.” He paused in the doorway. “I get that we can’t take many weekends off in the hotel business, but I sure as hell could use a day off from you two.” He closed the door in his wake with a thud.

  “I better get to work too.” Rebel took a few steps toward the front door.

  “Wait, Rebel,” Trace said. “I’m on my way to Cape Celeste to pick up t
he first plane full of campers.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s going to take two trips, and a storm’s rolling in. I swung by to let you know a flight delay is possible.”

  Rebel eased closer to the door. “If the vets are late, I’ve got things to keep me busy in the garage. If you’re really delayed, I can go into town to run an errand.” Her running shoes squeaked against the hardwood floor as she took another step as though she was looking for an escape route.

  Oh hell no. She wasn’t getting away from Elliott that easily. Not until he at least tried to get her to open up.

  He wasn’t above playing dirty, so a) he’d get rid of his brother . . .

  “Text me with updates,” he said to Trace. “If you hurry, maybe you can stay ahead of the weather.”

  As if on cue, Trace walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving Rebel alone with Elliott.

  And b) he’d be BFFs with her dogs.

  He gave Rem and Bogart a signal to return to his side. To his amazement, they obeyed.

  Her eyes widened, obviously as surprised as Elliott. Then those eyes turned smoky, caressing over his bare chest, then dropping to the towel that was slung low on his hips.

  His skin heated.

  So did her cheeks, if the pink seeping into them was any indication.

  Which led him to c) he’d stay in the towel instead of getting dressed as long as it worked to his advantage.

  He padded into the kitchen, calling the dogs to follow. Since the cottages were designed with an open floor plan, he knew she’d be able to see his backside as he made coffee. “Have a seat.”

  “I . . . I should get over to the garage. I, I . . . Jax and Ben are feeding and walking the dogs.” Her shoes squeaked against the floor as she followed him. “Your dad is even pitching in. More to help Ben with his Scout badge, but it’s extra help, nonetheless.” Her voice was a little croaky.

  Elliott glanced over a shoulder to find her standing on the threshold that separated the kitchen from the den. Her eyes brightened as she squatted and called Rem to her for a hug.

  It was obvious how much she’d missed Rem after just one night. Which made Elliott stiffen his resolve to get to the truth. Why that name?