Love Me if You Dare

by Toni Blake

  She moved stealthily toward the wooden cabinets, but then gasped slightly when she realized she’d nearly stepped on Fifi, who lay stretched out in the floor like a huge three-dimensional and very scaly rug.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t reach the cabinet overtop of Fifi’s wide girth, and she couldn’t easily step over her, either. Hmm—what to do.

  Only then she found herself studying the iguana in the pale shaft of light beaming through the open doorway, thinking it was sort of amazing that she wasn’t afraid of Fifi anymore. Slightly startled at first sight maybe—but already she felt calm in her presence.

  And for some reason then, she stooped down, looking into Fifi’s eyes, trying to see in them what Reece did.

  “Don’t supposed you’d want to move?” she whispered to Fifi.

  “Do you want to touch my iguana?”

  She gasped louder this time, darting her gaze upward to find Reece peering down at her. Then, despite herself, she let out a laugh. “I needed towels,” she said, “and didn’t want to bother you.” It was hard to stay mad at him.

  He gave her a grin, that typical Reece grin that now kind of buried her. “I’ll get you some,” he said. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  She smiled back, feeling the warm flirtation move between them. “I’m . . . not sure if I want to or not.”

  “She likes to be petted,” he told her, crouching down next to Cami. “Don’t you, girl?” Then he proceeded to demonstrate, stroking his hand along the enormous iguana’s neck.

  “So she really likes that, huh?” Cami asked.

  “Yep. Try it. Her skin is softer than you think.”

  Cami tentatively reached out her hand. Reece was right—the iguana was much softer to the touch, so much more pliable, than she’d anticipated. Slowly, she began to pet Fifi, gradually getting comfortable with it.

  “See?” Reece said. “Not so bad, right?”

  She glanced back up at him, into those gorgeous brown eyes, which were now only inches from hers. “Right,” she agreed gently. “But . . . how do you know she likes it?”

  He flashed another disarming grin. “By the way she smiles when you do it.”

  Cami continued gingerly petting the reptile, but after a moment said, “I don’t see her smiling.”

  “I do,” he replied. “A matter of perspective, I guess.”

  As Reece stood back upright, Cami did, too. Which was when she fully realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He smiled gently as he pointed to a small utility sink inside the open storage closet. “You should wash your hands.”

  “Is your iguana dirty?” she teased gently.

  He arched one eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong—sometimes dirty is good,” he said. “But you should still wash your hands.” He ended with a wink.

  And so she did, using the antibacterial soap on the sink’s edge—but all the while she stayed more aware of Reece than anything else. Was he watching her? She could almost feel his eyes touching her, and as she lathered her hands, then rinsed them beneath the faucet, an almost electrical current rippled up and down her arms.

  After she stepped aside, Reece took her place in front of the sink and washed up, too. She took in the muscles in his back, his arms, the tan skin that covered them and looked so touchable she could almost feel it beneath her fingertips even from a few feet away. Touching Fifi wasn’t bad, but touching Reece sounded a lot more fun.

  And it was only as he turned off the water, dried his hands on a towel hanging from a metal ring on the wall, and pivoted to face her that she noticed what he did wear—only a pair of thin gym shorts like the ones he’d greeted her in that first morning at the pool. And the reason she noticed was . . . undeniable. It made her heart beat faster as the spot between her thighs tingled with heat.

  So she followed her instincts and said, “Um, is that a bottle of sunscreen in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

  He locked her in place with a gaze that came from beneath shaded eyelids and said, “It’s not sunscreen, Tinkerbell.”

  His careless manner had gone at last,

  his eyes were sparkling . . .

  J. M. Barrie, Peter and Wendy

  Chapter 14

  SHE DIDN’T even mind being called Tinkerbell anymore. Maybe because his tone held far more affection than malice. And the words drew her gaze from his shorts up to his face—probably a safer place to be looking at the moment.

  Or maybe not. Those eyes. The heat in them melted her.

  “Am I too late?” he asked.

  “Um . . .” Oh God—she wasn’t mentally prepared for this. And was he saying what she thought he was saying? “Are you too late for what?”

  He lowered his chin, pinned her with a sexy look that burned right though her soul. And when he didn’t reply, she got the idea he thought that look was an answer—but it really wasn’t, all things considered.

  “Because just being glad to see me doesn’t mean much, you know. You were glad to see me in the water the other day—really glad to see me—but you still put on the brakes. So I just need to understand where we stand here.”

  “Okay,” he told her, nodding slowly and, if she was reading him correctly, appearing seriously intent on seduction. “I decided you’re right. It’s worth it.”

  Something blossomed in Cami’s chest. Maybe it was excitement. Or maybe it was fear. A part of her had already concluded that this probably wasn’t going to happen—so in a way it was catching her entirely off guard. “Maybe I should be offended,” she pointed out politely, “that you had to think about it.”

  He tilted his head and spoke with full, persuasive confidence. “Or maybe you should be flattered. That I didn’t just follow my urges and let my dick do the thinking. That I’m in this with my head, too. Truth is, this might be the first time I’ve ever thought about the pros and cons of sleeping with someone after the opportunity presented itself. And it’s the first time I’ve had a real reason not to go there. But what it comes down to is—you’re impossible to resist.” And then he lifted his hand to cup her jaw, his fingertips grazing the tender skin just below her ear. “Are you flattered yet?”

  More than being flattered, she was also nearly too aroused to breathe. “Maybe.”

  “Let me convince you,” he said deeply. And then he leaned in, slid his palm warmly behind her neck, and kissed her.

  Their last kiss had been very nice—but this one was better. They weren’t wearing snorkeling gear or free-floating in the Gulf of Mexico for starters. And for finishers—mmm, he was a really good kisser. That lush mouth of his moved over hers with absolute sureness and skill. Without quite planning to, she found herself lifting her hands to his chest, bare and warm, and a slight shift in how they stood then brought other body parts into contact below.

  Pressing that neediest spot between her legs against the rock-hard proof of his desire made her moan into his mouth. And as both his hands dropped to her ass, pulling her in tighter, snugger, her entire being dissolved in his strong arms.

  Thought faded away, leaving behind only sensation, urges, instinct. There was nothing to do but give herself over to it. It wasn’t like her—that kind of surrender. But then, nothing that had happened since she’d met Reece Donovan was really like her. So why would she have expected this to be any different?

  The only thing that drew her from her complete abandon was when she heard a heavy shift behind her. It reminded her there was a giant reptile on the floor—something she could scarcely believe she’d managed to forget, actually. She broke the kiss, but remained glued to Reece as she glanced over her shoulder.

  “Um, I think your iguana is watching us.”

  He quirked a slight grin. “And . . . you’re afraid she’ll post it on Facebook?”

  “Uh . . .” It wasn’t that, of course—but it was hard to transform thoughts into words at the moment. A rare occurrence for her.

  “Trust me, she won’t tell,” Reece rasped with a sexy wink. “But if it’ll make yo
u feel better, we can go in my bedroom and shut the door.”

  “ ’Kay,” was all she managed. God, it was like her brain had just vanished.

  “Wrap your arms around me,” he instructed, so she slid them around his neck and he tightened his grip on her bottom, hoisting her upward until she was curving her legs around his body, too, and he was carrying her through the open door to his apartment.

  She took in only scant details—modest surroundings, retro furniture she suspected had been here since it was new, the only modern-feeling object in the room being the flat-screen TV on the wall. He carried her past it and through another open door to a bedroom, after which he threw her to her back onto what turned out to be a waterbed. She gasped—stunned and wholly excited.

  Something about it felt primal, hot—suddenly finding herself in his private space gave her the sensation of having been carried off by some roguish beast, back to his hidden lair. She felt fully immersed into his world when she’d least expected it.

  But of course her surroundings weren’t her real focus—all that lay in her periphery. Her attention centered on the man towering over her now, his look suddenly that of a fierce, hungry animal. She’d had no idea Reece could look that way. And she’d never have suspected how much she’d like it.

  She met his gaze unabashedly.

  And as more of that invisible heat flowed between them, she realized that gazing into his determined eyes right now was an act of . . . laying herself bare. Before she even got that way. It was stark, intimate. Something about it felt more intimate than some sex she’d had with men she’d known much better and been in committed relationships with.

  But she didn’t have any more time to examine that before he was climbing onto the foot of the bed on his knees and sliding his tan, leanly muscled body up over her curves—until he lay atop her, locking the fingers of both his hands with hers, gently pinning her beneath him.

  She could have felt trapped—trapped by this man who she had been trying to trap in another way. But instead she fell into the joy of . . . surrender. To all of it.

  She didn’t surrender to much in life, and she’d never truly surrendered herself to a man—in this way or any other—but to him, now, she surrendered completely. Even as her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips to pull him down onto her.

  A soft groan left him when his erection pressed so solidly between her parted legs.

  “Baby, I’m so ready for this,” he murmured deep in her ear. The take-charge lust in his voice moved all through her like a liquid thing.

  “Me, too,” she breathed up at him. Every cell of her body seemed to pulse.

  “I’m so damn glad I stopped waiting,” he told her.

  “Uh huh,” was all she managed to reply.

  A soft, low laugh left him as he suggested, “Maybe I should just shut up and have my way with you.”

  And she whispered, “Yes. Have your way with me.”

  And at last, he resumed kissing her, firm and deep—and soon, without thought, she found herself bringing her tongue into the mix, pressing it into his mouth, and he met it with his own. While she’d unexpectedly liked the sense of surrender, she also relished this little bit of returned boldness on her part, too.

  Soon his fingers unlocked from hers and his hands found their way to her breasts, beginning to mold and massage them through her tank top and bra. Oh God, yes—she loved him touching her there, loved the firm caress on her sensitive flesh.

  She’d already been moving against him below—she couldn’t help it, her body had taken over—but now her pelvis worked more vigorously, rhythmically, against the erection that had her on the verge of exploding that fast.

  Had any foreplay ever felt this good? Maybe she was blowing it out of proportion because it had been awhile, but she didn’t think so. Her body felt malleable in his arms, and as if it had a mind of its own. She couldn’t have stopped its responses if her life had depended on it. And letting herself go like this felt . . . real, and honest, and right, and . . . mmm, as if their bodies were in perfect sync.

  Soon he was pushing up her top, over her breasts, then slowly but deliberately using both hands to extract them from the cups of the pale pink bra she wore. She felt sexy, wholly sexual, to have that part of herself revealed to him now, especially when he looked down to study them, then whispered the word, “Beautiful,” against her skin just as he lowered a kiss to one beaded nipple.

  She shivered as the kiss rippled through her in waves. And when his tongue began tracing circles around the taut peak, tender but jagged cries left her throat. Below, she moved in still deeper gyrations against his perfect erection.

  Finally, he closed his mouth fully over her breast, suckling, and she found her fingers threading through his dark hair, heard her pleasure leave her in guttural moans that grew from the recesses of her soul.

  Through this, he’d rubbed and teased and played with her other breast, but now, as he continued sucking firmly, his hand grazed ever-so-tantalizingly down over her stomach—and into the elastic waistband of the cotton shorts she wore.

  And as much as she missed his hard-on when he shifted it toward her hip, she also loved the sensation of his fingers dipping between her thighs. Where he’d touched her in the water, but overtop her bikini then. This was different. Flesh to flesh. Fingers to wetness.

  Eyes shut, her surrender grew more complete as she threw her arms up over her head, thrusting her breast a little deeper into his mouth, and grinding against his fingers where they stroked through her moisture. She felt so alive, so free, and so . . . ready for more.

  “Please,” she murmured breathily. “Oh God, please.”

  It was all Reece could do not to erupt in his pants. And so when he said, “Please what, honey?” and she said, “In me. I want to feel you in me,” she didn’t have to ask twice.

  Things moved faster then. He rose slightly, enough to pull her shorts down and off, along with her panties. She pushed at his shorts and underwear, as well, as he reached toward the bedside table, toward a drawer where he prayed there was a condom or two. Relief flooded him when his fingers closed around a square packet—thank God. He should have planned for this, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t seen it coming this quickly. He’d thought he was biding his time, being careful and thinking it through. But then there she’d been, touching his iguana, her face, body, right next to his—so, so close—and he simply hadn’t wanted to fight it anymore.

  He helped her get his shorts off, then ripped into the condom. He liked that she was watching, liked seeing her tongue come out to gently touch her upper lip as he rolled the condom down over his hard and ready cock. He could hear them both breathing, panting, impatient and wanting. His heart threatened to beat through his chest.

  Part of him wanted to strip away her top and bra, too—but another part of him liked how in disarray she looked, top pushed up, breasts on display. And besides, he didn’t want to waste the time right now. He ached to fill her.

  So he simply parted her legs, looked down on her naughty, welcoming loveliness, and then thrust slow and firm into her sweet, hot flesh.

  She closed her eyes beneath him, let out a series of heated little cries, then gazed up at him to say, “Oh my God, you feel so good.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her and managed through labored breath, “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “Big.”

  His face flushed with warmth and he gave her a grin. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  Beneath him, she let out a trill of laughter that echoed down into his erection—until he emitted a low groan. “Damn, Tink,” he rasped, “you feel pretty good yourself.”

  She answered by biting her lower lip, flashing a heated look, and lifting herself against him. Ah, he felt that where it counted, and began to move in her, driving, taking on a hot, hard rhythm that made her breasts shudder with each plunge. Her eyes fell shut again, her head dropping back into the pillow, and he rained a few kisses onto her pretty neck before thrustin
g into her body even deeper.

  “Oh God, I want on top of you,” she said after a while.

  And Reece fell for her a little harder. “See why I like you?” he asked, casting a lusty grin as he gripped her hips and began to roll with her so that he’d end up on his back.

  Her eyes went wide as their bodies shifted. “Because I like it on top?”

  He laughed. “Because you know what you want and don’t hesitate to go for it. And you’re a little bit of everything. A little bit hard, a little bit soft. A little bit sweet and a little bit wicked.” As she ended up atop him, rising upright, he took in the fact that her long, loose hair had gotten messy and her breasts were just as gorgeous from underneath. He gave her a wink. “And I’m ready for you to show me some more wicked now.”

  If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes sparkled with amusement—and maybe even a hint of lechery. “And what’s wicked?” she asked, beginning to move on him in sexy circular motions.

  He glanced down at where their bodies met, then back up at her eyes. “That’s a little wicked,” he breathed deeply. At that, her movements intensified and her expression grew more animalistic. Oh yeah, he liked a messy-haired, animalistic Cami. A lot. “Aw baby,” he bit off amid rising pleasure, “ride me.”

  As she did, she looked lost in a trance—until she bent over him in a way he read as a silent demand for him to kiss and suck on her breasts some more. “Looks like you’re having your way with me now,” he told her.

  “Do you like it?” she purred.

  “Do your worst,” he challenged. And then he opened his mouth, happy to slip it back around one pretty, pointed pink nipple.

  He sucked and she moaned. Her movements grew harder, rougher. He pumped up into her, matching her rhythm. And then finally, she began to grind on him slower, deeper, her body straining with the heat of being on the brink. It brought him to the brink, too. He suckled her harder, harder, sensing that was what she wanted, needed.