If You Dare

by Jessica Lemmon

  Anyway.

  Focus.

  She tore her mind off Marcus’s delicious abs and bare chest and glared at the word “babe” in the signoff on Emmett’s email. The moniker “asshat” she’d teasingly assigned to Marcus belonged firmly after Emmett D. Webster’s name.

  Maybe she’d just show Emmett and wear not only a short skirt to the dinner, but also a low-cut top, high heels, and zero undergarments. An evil smile stole over her face.

  Yes. Maybe she’d do that. Then her smile vanished. She couldn’t let Emmett—or anyone—know that she was there with Marcus, though. Not if she didn’t want her past making an unwanted comeback…like acid-washed jeans.

  “McIntire.” Marcus stepped into her office and lifted a takeout menu. “Chinese?”

  On the heels of that email, his presence was a breath of fresh, musky, pine-scented air. “Sure.”

  “Let me guess.” He put the menu to his forehead, closed his eyes, and pretended to read her mind. “Kung Pao chicken, spice level number seven.”

  Damn. Exactly right. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Okay, smarty. Like you’re not going to order the orange beef, level ten, with a double order of crab rangoon?”

  “Level twelve.” He pointed the menu like he had something on her.

  “That sounds hot,” she said, a smile curving her lips.

  “Honey, you have no idea.” With a wink, he turned and held up the menu as Clive passed him in the hallway. “Chinese?” she heard him ask.

  Face warm from Marcus’s departing comment, Lily deleted Emmett’s email with a decisive click.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The rest of the week went as per their usual.

  Sort of.

  Lily ran into Marcus in the morning scarfing down donuts near the coffeemaker. They ate lunch in the conference room together everyday, and discussed projects. But what wasn’t normal was how there were at least two times when she would have gone to his office to ask his opinion, but she hadn’t. She’d gone to Joanie instead, and Clive once, too. Avoidance wasn’t like her, and it wasn’t like Marcus to let her get away with it.

  She supposed they were both being careful. Which should have made her feel better but the circumventing was…silly. It made the get-together at Clive and Joanie’s house tomorrow night seem all the more challenging since she and Marcus hadn’t really talked things through yet.

  “How many of these do you think I can fit into my mouth at once?”

  She looked up from her design for the end caps for a local pet shop, which she updated once a month, to see Marcus with a jar of gumballs in his hand. “Why…would you do that?”

  He shrugged. “You like to dare me to do things.”

  “No, you like to dare me to do things. I like to work.”

  He abandoned the gumballs on the corner of her desk. “Gift from Lonnie over at the candy store for the design we did last month.”

  “Oh, thoughtful.”

  “Are we going to talk about what happened at the mansion?”

  She looked away from the colorful gumballs. Marcus had his feet crossed at the ankles and was leaning in her doorway, arms crossed, muscles standing out in his forearms. She pictured him without a shirt and got lightheaded.

  “The ghost?” she asked.

  “The sex,” he said. Bluntly.

  Her cheeks grew warm and then warmer when he straightened, closed the door, and crossed the room. He sat on the corner of her desk, one khaki-encased thigh really close to her. She allowed her eyes to move up to his face. “Okay.”

  “You don’t want to have sex with me again,” he stated.

  So not true.

  “I… don’t think we should,” she said, then volleyed back, “Do you?”

  “You think the mansion was a fluke.”

  He wasn’t going to answer her questions either, she could see. “I think it was…intense there. The environment. The circumstance.”

  “Intense.”

  Flashes of what happened lit the screen of her memory and her breasts grew heavy. Her face was downright hot. Marcus tipped her chin with one finger. “I dare you to go back for one more night with me.”

  She nearly choked. “Are you insane?”

  “No, determined. To prove to you what’s between us wasn’t a trick of the light. We have something that could be something, McIntire. But I need you to admit it.”

  Shuffling papers that didn’t need shuffling was a great way to avoid looking at him. “Well, I’m…that’s not going to happen. Willow Mansion can keep all my things because I’m not setting foot back in that haunted funhouse.”

  “Or back in bed with me.”

  She shook her head, chickening out. The truth was she’d love to, but it was also true that there was too much on the line if she did.

  He nodded in response, but it was robotic. Grim. When he opened her door, she stopped him with, “Your jar.”

  “Keep them,” he said. “We’ll see if you’re able to keep your hands off me tomorrow night.”

  He shut her door behind him and she stared at the pink, blue, white, yellow, and orange gumballs in the jar. He’d just issued a dare of another kind, and against her better sense the challenge sounded just as sweet as the multi-colored candies staring back at her.

  …

  Joanie had said “nothing fancy.” Hmph.

  Lily scanned her closet, scraping hangers left then right, then right then left again. Nothing. She had nothing to wear save for her standard work wardrobe. And why did she care? Certainly not because Marcus would be there. Certainly not because she would be seeing him during the cover of night for the first time since the mansion. Certainly not because he’d dropped as juvenile (and sweat-inducing) a challenge as “bet you can’t keep your hands off me.”

  Good lord, he wasn’t that irresistible.

  Was he?

  Anyway, it wasn’t like she would morph into a sex-crazed monster at the sight of the full moon. She let loose a laugh, but it was an uneasy one. She couldn’t just…have sex with him again. She pulled a delicate, slightly see-through blouse out of her closet and frowned. Could she?

  Not without a really good reason.

  How about because he makes you see stars when he kisses you?

  Yeah, that. Not to mention that watching his shoulders move under his clothes while they were at work had soaked her brain in memories of him shirtless, sliding into her, saying her name…

  Oh, Lord. She put the blouse back into her closet and traded it for a less-sheer shirt.

  Tonight was such a bad idea.

  Lily and Clive’s 1900s home stood on the edge of a sidewalk, old and brick, structurally beautiful. A cherry tree dominated their miniscule front lawn, and a short wrought iron fence looped their property, including the quaint backyard filled with more trees.

  As she stepped over the leaves littering the walk, she heard a car pull up to the curb. Nerves jumped like jackrabbits in her stomach. It was six o’clock, but dusk had fallen, giving the neighborhood a spooky fall feeling.

  A car door closed. Heavy shoes approached from behind her, crunching leaves beneath their soles. She scaled the porch steps, still not turning, picturing the man embodying those sounds: the wide frame, the girth and length that had settled between her thighs a few days ago, the way his tongue swept her nipples, the rogue glint in his eyes as he admired her nakedness.

  Okay, she’d become a little sex obsessed since he’d made her say his name. Sue her.

  At the door, she turned, flipped her hair off her shoulder, and locked eyes with Marcus. He was climbing the stairs, wearing a pair of black dress pants and a gray dress shirt. His hair was damp as if he’d just showered, and he smelled…wow. Heavenly. Like fall itself had cloaked him.

  “You look hot,” he said, the side of his mouth hitching.

  She shook her head and smiled, ran a hand down her simple black skirt. “You have a way with words.”

  “I speak the truth.” He tipped his head toward the do
or. “You knock yet?”

  She shook her head.

  “We’re early.”

  “We are.”

  They stood in silence for a moment.

  “Walk with me.”

  She pulled a breath into her lungs and turned away from the door. Dinner didn’t start for an hour.

  Taking her silence for acquiescence, he took her hand and pulled her down the steps. The pace casual, they started down the sidewalk as a gentle, cool breeze blew. His fingers laced with hers.

  “Talk to me, McIntire,” he said when they’d gotten a few houses away from the Camerons’.

  “Um.” She thought for a second then asked, “How’s the speech going?”

  He slid her a look. “Talk to me about something else.”

  She grinned up at him. “Still nervous about that?”

  “Know what I’m nervous about?”

  Her heart mule-kicked her chest. Her? Them? Getting her to admit that she missed him more now that they’d slept together? It was as if she hadn’t known what she was missing, and now she did.

  Also, she was afraid he would win that bet he’d made yesterday. Technically, she thought as she looked down at their linked fingers, he already had. She couldn’t keep her hands off him.

  “Tonight,” he said.

  Well. There was no better intro than that. She dropped his hand and walked to the corner. He followed. When they reached the stop sign, she opened her mouth, and then closed it while she waited for a woman walking her dog to pass.

  “It’s something, isn’t it? This…what’s between us?” she asked. It wasn’t smart. It wasn’t what she should want, but in the dead of night, in the bright morning, in the days since the mansion where she tried, and failed, to forget what happened between them, she’d realized there was no denying a spark had ignited. And if she couldn’t deny it, she needed to deal with it.

  He didn’t laugh her off, change the subject, or shy away. “Yes.”

  “At first I thought maybe it was the mansion. Because we were afraid. Adrenaline was up…or something.”

  “Or something.” His dark eyes heated. He took a step closer to her and grasped her hips, his nostrils flaring as he took slow inventory of every inch of her face.

  “Looks like you’re the one who can’t keep your hands off me,” she said, her heart thundering in her eardrums.

  “Looks like.” He kissed her, slow and soft at first, then harder as he slid his tongue into her mouth. Her palm went to the back of his head, and her body molded into his. Nipples erect, she rubbed against him, wanting…gosh. Just wanting him so much it hurt. She’d thought about him all week: in the shower this morning, in her bed, at lunch…

  But what she wanted most of all was him inside her.

  He tore his mouth from hers, sucking in a breath and twining his fingers in her hair. “Come home with me, McIntire.”

  “I…we have the party.” But a certain spot between her legs throbbed the word yes in Morse code.

  “After the party.” His eyes grew dark, his tone dropped even lower. “Let me take you to my bed,” he said, moving his hands from her hair and running his fingertips down her neck. She suppressed a shudder. “And I’ll show you all the ways you can come beneath me.” His grip tightened on her hips. “And on top of me.”

  She tried to find her voice. Impossible.

  He smirked, knowing he was getting to her, that her resolve was eroding the more he talked. “And in front of me, Lily.”

  “Okay” was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say it.

  Apparently he didn’t need to hear it, or had read the answer in her eyes, because next he took her hand and walked toward Joanie and Clive’s house once again.

  “It’s just cocktails and dessert,” he said. “How long could it last?”

  …

  An eternity.

  Cocktails and dessert could last until the dawn of a new fucking age.

  Marcus smiled tightly at Reginald, who’d been blathering on about…God. He had no clue. He’d tuned him out eons ago.

  He slipped a look over his shoulder at Lily, who was standing, wineglass in hand, poised with a smile on her face he’d bet was as strained as the one on his. Oh, if Felicia London, who was talking with her hands and flashing what looked like several hundred karats of diamond jewelry, knew what was under that polite façade. Joanie, who stood in that little circle, caught Marcus’s eyes and rolled hers. Yeah, drinks and dessert had gone a little longer than she’d planned, as well.

  Clive had managed to avoid Marcus and Reginald both. Because he was smart. And a dick. He knew if he got roped into Reginald’s storytelling he’d be rooted to the same spot for ages. Well. Marcus had been rooted on this same spot and was in desperate need of a break. When Clive walked by on his way to the bar to refill his wine, Marcus tuned into the tail end of what Reginald was saying.

  “…and mounted it in my den. Big moose.” Reginald nodded and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Big-ass moose, Marcus.”

  “You know, Clive was telling me a hunting story the other day,” Marcus said. Clive, hearing his name, turned his head, then narrowed his eyelids. Marcus grinned and continued lying his pants off. “You remember, Clive. The one about the deer. And the rabbits.” He turned to Reginald. “Hilarious. Wait’ll you hear it.” He backed a few steps away when Reginald turned his attention to Clive. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I have to visit the facilities.”

  He swaggered away, but not before hearing Clive start a story that did not until just now exist. He caught Lily’s eye as he went. She lifted one prim eyebrow. He winked. Joanie and Felicia were ensconced in conversation, and as he walked past in the direction of the bathroom, he heard Lily excuse herself as well.

  Clive and Joanie’s house was big, and given the fact he’d been there about nine hundred and forty-three times, Marcus knew his way around. The huge eat-in kitchen contained a dining room table that sat ten, a breakfast bar and island in the center of the room, and a newly built pantry Clive and Marcus had designed a few months back. The pantry not only stocked food but also had a humidor for cigars and shelving to hold bottles of wine.

  It was kick-ass. He’d just stopped in front of its double doors when he heard heels click behind him. He turned and snagged Lily’s arm, opened the pantry, and closed them inside.

  He had her up against a wall in a nanosecond, his mouth fused with hers a second later. She tasted like crisp white wine, apples, and something else… Her, he realized. It was a taste he’d gotten a sample of at the end of the block, a taste he hadn’t been able to forget since the night at Willow Mansion. Much as he wanted to make an excuse and leave, he hadn’t found an opening yet. And this, her, was exactly what he needed. Her palms went to his chest, her touch burning him down to the soles of his dress shoes.

  After parting, she breathed, “I’m about to fake a burst appendix.”

  “Joanie would insist on coming to the hospital,” he reminded her, his hands sliding down her lower back and over her skirt.

  “I know. What about you, can you fake something?”

  “Not me, baby. I’m a hundred percent real.”

  A grin took over her lips, and then she shocked the hell out of him by cupping his junk in one hand. His semi- was becoming a full-on. And fast.

  “Yep,” she purred up at him. “That’s real, all right.”

  She unbuttoned his slacks. “I figure since we can’t ignore what’s between us, we’ll just have to indulge.”

  “How much have you had to drink?” he couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t like her to be careless, or risky.

  “It’s been a long week, Black.” She unzipped him next, reaching into his underwear and squeezing his cock. He grunted and she shushed him. “Anyway, stop talking.”

  He swallowed and dutifully kept his mouth shut, his blood roaring as Lily stroked him again. She backed him into a shelf, sending boxes of cereal wobbling behind him. His senses were heightened in the dark. It was li
ke they were back in the mansion, groping in the dark and finding each other. Lily’s hands tugged his pants and boxers down, and she slid to her knees in front of him. A sliver of light from the crack under the door allowed him a tease of what she had planned. And he liked what he saw.

  From the champagne, or maybe the rush of lust, Lily’s inhibitions were down, her guard dropped, and Marcus would have been all for it—okay, was all for it—but for the fact that their best friends were a few rooms over with their latest clients…

  God. This was stupid. Was he really going to let Lily go down on him while—

  He felt the tip of her tongue flick over his cock and he conked his skull against some cans behind him.

  Yes. Hell yes, he was.

  “Kiss me, beautiful,” he begged, wanting those lips again.

  “Oh, I plan on it.” She smiled against his skin, then wrapped her lips around the head of his penis.

  Aaaaaand…he was going to die.

  He’d always thought of blowjobs as gifts from above, especially when an exquisite creature was willing and ready to perform one. He didn’t like to brag, but he’d gotten more than a few girls on their knees. He thought he knew just what to expect.

  Except he hadn’t counted on Lily.

  Once she licked the head, she scraped the fleshy part with her teeth, then sucked, then repeated the process. The sensations shooting up his spine were nothing short of glorious. He gripped the shelf behind him with one hand and wound the fingers of his other hand into her hair while she worked. And damn, she was working it. Working him. He thought she’d continue worshipping the tip, which, hey, he had zero problems with, but then her mouth opened and she swallowed him down, taking in every inch while he sucked a breath through his teeth and tried to maintain. What he wanted to do was pull her mouth off his cock, ruck that skirt up over her hips, and plunge deep inside her.