If She Dares (Contemporary Romance)

by Tanya Michaels

  He studied the room, taking his time in answering. “Sitting on one of the ottomans, I think. I want you to be comfortable, in a position that’s mostly natural and easily held. But this is a casual portrait—let me know if you need to move. Will you be warm enough once you remove the robe?”

  If he was worried about her getting cold, then he severely underestimated the heat he generated just by looking at her. “I’m good,” she promised. “Did I leave you enough light?”

  He glanced around at the dozen candles, the corner of his mouth twitching with humor. “A beautiful woman agreed to take her clothes off for me—I’m not going to quibble.” He did, however, slightly rearrange the furniture, sliding the coffee table away from its usual spot so that he could put the ottoman in the center of the room.

  “You sit here, angled diagonally,” he instructed. He arranged her hands the way he wanted and asked her to turn her head to the side so that she would be looking back at him. “Perfect. So you’ll be just like that—but without the robe.”

  The moment of truth. She got to her feet, gaze lowered as her fingers untied the knotted sash. Once it hung loose, there was only the matter of three snaps. Then she shrugged out of the garment in a whisper of silk and lace, raising her eyes to Jack’s just as the robe hit the carpet.

  He was breathing hard, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them. It occurred to her that he was going to have a tough time drawing with his fingers curled so tightly. His gaze traveled slowly over her, as if, mentally, he was already sketching an image of her, transfixed by each line and contour. Beneath his attention, her nipples hardened, and her breasts ached with tantalizing fullness. His eyes dipped lower, and by the time he reached the shadowed juncture of her thighs, need had pooled there. She realized now she couldn’t have posed for the portrait standing; another few minutes of such avid appraisal, and she’d be trembling.

  “You are stunning.” His voice was raw, and it was gratifying to know he was as affected by the moment as she was.

  “I’m going to sit down now.” Before she launched herself at him, drawing be damned. The drawing was the dare, and you accepted.

  Nodding, he reached out a hand, as if to help her settle back into the correct position, but then dropped it abruptly. Maybe they were having the same thought—that if they didn’t get started, they were about to be far too preoccupied with other activities.

  He quickly set up the easel and sketchpad. When he spoke again, his voice was closer to normal. “Pick a focal point. It can be anywhere—gaze lowered, staring off into the distance. But see if you can hold it. You’d be surprised at what a difference it can make.”

  “You,” she said, neck craned so that she could watch him. “You’re my focal point.”

  He swallowed visibly, and she wanted to kiss the line of his throat, follow it downward. Her breathing quickened as she recalled the hard length of his erection pressed against her yesterday. She remembered how his grasp on her had tightened when she’d moved atop him, the erotic tension etched into his features. How would he react when she touched him there, skin to skin? Or took him in her mouth?

  Desire pulsed at her core, and she realized how difficult it was going to be not to squirm or shift her weight, not to do anything that might bring some relief from the mounting need. She tried to focus on something besides sex, watching Jack as he held up a pencil horizontally, as if using the line to gauge proportions or find the center of his composition. Then he lowered his hand about three inches and paused again, still gauging. Until, finally, he began to draw.

  As Riley sat, working to keep still, she entered a nearly meditative state, all of her senses heightened, amplifying the moment. The skritch skritch of the pencil across the thick paper was an uneven percussion to Jack’s sighs and inhalations. She became so aware of his breathing she could even tell when he was holding his breath, struggling to get something the way he wanted it. As he’d predicted, the air around her was chillier without the protection of the robe, but her skin was so flushed with arousal that she welcomed the kiss of coolness on her body. The leather beneath her was almost buttery soft, but she found that frustrating. She craved friction. She missed the slightly roughened rasp of Jack’s fingers. She wanted the crisp hair of his male body against her smoothness.

  She let everything she was imagining show on her face, made no effort to mask how badly she wanted him inside her. He glanced up from a spot he was smudging with a small square of cloth. His eyes met hers, and he froze.

  When he went back to drawing, the movement of his hand was almost frantic.

  “Done,” he declared a few minutes later. “I mean, it’s rough, and it needs more negative space, but... Hold on.” He disappeared into her kitchen, and she heard the sink running and the rip of paper towel off the dispenser. She imagined charcoal could be a messy medium and understood why he’d wash his hands afterward.

  Still, she grinned privately at the thought of him touching her with stained, smudged hands, leaving fingerprints along her pale skin and private places, each mark a small proclamation—Jack was here.

  “Want to see it?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. After she’d been sitting here this whole time, he must know her curiosity was killing her.

  He brought the sketchbook over and sat on the corner of the ottoman. There wasn’t really room for both of them, but she reveled in the nearness—the scent of him and the brush of his jeans against her thigh. For a moment she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the drawing. It was possible she’d look at it and all she’d be able to see were the images playing through her mind.

  But she was underestimating Jack’s talent. Because the picture was compelling. It was weirdly intimate, looking at the curve of her own spine and flare of her hips as they rounded into her butt. But despite his grace capturing the human form, what stood out most was her partially shadowed profile. Her lips were full and parted, and the expression he’d captured... It was perhaps the most beautiful she’d ever looked, but she knew immediately she never wanted anyone else to see it. It felt excruciatingly private.

  “For you.” He handed her the paper. “It’s not perfect—”

  “Neither am I.” The portrait had some dark places and rough patches, but she thought that appropriate. She reached for his hand and pressed a kiss to the tips of his fingers. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She darted her tongue out, circling the tip of his index finger. “Want to do something for my pleasure?”

  Watching her from hooded eyes, he pushed his finger forward, and she sucked it into her mouth. A shudder went through his body. “What did you have in mind?”

  She bent forward to retrieve the sash from her robe then got to her feet. “Come with me.”

  His smile was pure sin. “That’s the plan.”

  The promise in his voice only added to her rush to get him into her bedroom.

  Behind her, Jack chuckled. “I know the sooner I catch up, the sooner I get to touch you. On the other hand, from back here, I get to enjoy the glorious view of your ass.”

  Framed in the doorway of her room, she gave him an impish smile. “So you’d rather stand there ogling than let me tie you to my bed?”

  He was at her side a second later, arms wrapped around her as their mouths came together in a hot, tumultuous kiss. He surprised her by lifting her straight off the ground without his mouth ever leaving hers, and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bed. Once he set her down, she shoved the shirt off his shoulders. While he was wriggling free of the sleeves, she reached for the fly of his jeans. He sucked in a breath when her hand brushed over the bulge beneath the fabric.

  She rocked back on her heels, watching as he shimmied out of the jeans. “What happened last night... I was thinking that, if you’ll let me use this,” she threaded the belt from her robe throu
gh the wooden slats of her headboard, “then you’re free to enjoy everything we do without worrying about any triggers. And so am I.”

  “Right now, gorgeous, I’ll let you do just about any damn thing you want.”

  In just his boxer briefs, he joined her on the bed. He lay back against the pillows, tugging her to him for more kisses. She tilted her head, closing her eyes as he trailed his lips up the side of her neck to the delicate shell of her ear. She shivered. God, she’d forgotten how sensitive she was there.

  “You have full permission to restrain my hands,” he said, eyes twinkling. “But before you do...?” His hands traveled down the sides of her breasts, and she arched into his touch. He caught one tip between his thumb and forefinger, and she whimpered her encouragement; he pinched lightly, and a spasm of pleasure rocked through her.

  “W-wait.” If she let him continue, she’d be too caught up to enact her own fantasy.

  As promised, he cooperated. He let go of her and obligingly put his hands above his head. She knelt, leaning across him to tie the belt around his wrists. Her breasts brushed within an inch of his face, and he raised his head from the pillow, lashing a nipple with his tongue.

  Deciding that turnabout was fair play, she scooted down so that she could return the favor. He groaned her name. They both knew he could free his hands if he wanted to, but she trusted him to give her this moment. The sense of control, while mostly illusion, was a heady aphrodisiac, the polar opposite of what she’d felt during her anxiety attack last night. I am in charge, free to enjoy this man at my leisure.

  She kissed her way from his chest to the indentation of his navel. The closer she got to the heavy erection jutting to meet her, the more labored his breathing became. Smiling to herself, she veered to the left, trailing kisses toward his hip while she scraped her nails along his inner thighs. But as intoxicating as it was to tease him—to tease both of them—she desperately wanted to touch him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, and he bucked into her palm. He was like steel. And he was big. Given her long stretch of abstinence, she might have worried about discomfort except that she was so wet for him. More than ready.

  But she wasn’t quite done fulfilling her fantasy. Positioning herself across the lower half of his body so that her breasts fell on either side of his erection, she pushed them together with her hands, cradling him while she leaned down to swirl her tongue over the velvety head. He swore reverently, thrusting against her. Deciding she wanted more, she slid her hand down the length of him, encircled the base of his erection and took him fully in her mouth. His hips came off the mattress, and the headboard made a creak of protest at the force of his grip.

  It struck her that, at this rate, he’d break the slats before he broke his promise not to touch her. Affection welled inside her, making the desire she felt for this man even more poignant. She scrambled up the bed to reach the condoms she’d placed in her nightstand this afternoon.

  His eyes were wild as he watched her tear open the packet and unroll the latex over him. She straddled him, lowering herself slowly. But Jack’s control had snapped. He flexed his hips, surging upward, impaling her, and she gasped at the sensation.

  “Do that again,” she pleaded, already raising herself off him, holding her breath in anticipation for— “Oh, yes.”

  She pressed her palms to the mattress on either side of him to give herself leverage as their bodies crashed together over and over in fierce, relentless pleasure. The combination of exquisite sensation and a sharp, spiraling need for more left her nearly mindless. Dimly aware she was chanting his name, along with other words that might not even make sense, she arched and twisted above him, chasing the climax that was so tantalizingly close.

  Waves of ecstasy were building like a storm about to break. She could feel herself tightening around him. Tremors started deep within her then exploded outward. She gave herself up to it with a cry, and the next thing she knew, Jack was sitting with his arms locked around her as he pumped into her one last time, the blue sash still trailing from his wrist.

  Her head fell forward onto his shoulder, and she was grateful for the support. She felt too boneless to sit up under her own power.

  “That was...” Her voice was hoarse, and forming words took too much effort. Just as well. She didn’t think she knew a word that could encapsulate what they had shared.

  His lips found hers, their kiss slow and salty. And perfect.

  8

  WHILE JACK WAS in the restroom, Riley contemplated whether she’d be able to stand. Her limbs were still shaky, but a desperate need for a glass of water propelled her to the kitchen. She stopped to pick up her robe along the way.

  When she stretched to get a tumbler from the cabinet, some of her muscles reacted with twinges of tenderness. On some level, she’d cherish being sore tomorrow, having the physical reminder of the night’s intensity, of her own abandon. Tonight had been amazing, even better than in her fantasies.

  There was only one hurdle left to clear.

  After someone had just given you the most earth-shattering orgasm of your life, how did you go about fondly kicking him to the curb? Since she’d promised Jack no strings, she wanted to reinforce that she’d meant what she said; this wasn’t a relationship where she expected him to send her flowers tomorrow or snuggle with her through the night. Plus, she doubted she could even sleep next to someone else.

  Then again, she thought, as she pulled a pitcher of filtered water from the fridge, after what they’d just done, she might fall into very deep slumber and not wake up until midmorning.

  “Hey.” Jack emerged from her room, his pants on but unfastened and his shirt a crumpled ball in his hand.

  She smiled, part of her surprised she wasn’t feeling shy. But there was no room for shyness in the bone-melting, life-altering utter satisfaction she’d experienced. “Hey. Want something to drink?”

  He joined her in the kitchen. “Not as much as I want this.” Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned forward and kissed her slightly swollen mouth. He sucked at her bottom lip, and sparks of renewed desire flared, bright counterpoints to the drowsy contentment she’d been feeling.

  “You,” she murmured between kisses, “are very...good at that.”

  He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “Just good? Then I may need to practice more. How about Friday? I wondered if you might like to go with me to the Halloween party. Unless you think I’d be bad for your campaign image,” he teased. “After all, it’s possible some other tenants overheard us tonight.”

  Her cheeks burned. She remembered the ecstatic “yes” after he’d thrust into her and knew she’d cried out at the end. There’d been other stuff in the middle, nonsensical words, gasps, possibly even panting. It was probably best she didn’t have clear memories of everything she’d said. But she wouldn’t have changed a thing.

  “If anyone heard noise from my apartment, they’ll assume it was on cable,” she said with wide-eyed innocence. “I am a quiet, respectable tenant who keeps to herself.”

  “And ties men to your bedposts.”

  She grinned. “That, too.”

  * * *

  HE WASN’T LIKELY to win any costume contests, but as Jack studied his reflection, he concluded he’d done a decent job cobbling something together.

  In a moment of weakness, recalling the appreciative way Riley had looked at him, he’d actually gone back to the Halloween store in search of the superhero costume. His relief at learning the store was sold out of them had been immense. Unfortunately, by then, there had only been a few days left until Halloween, and pretty much all the costumes were gone.

  But after talking to Riley the other day about his days in the science club, he’d been inspired. He wore a dark red lab coat over hospital scrubs and goggles on his head. His gothic take on a mad scientist also included spiking his ha
ir with the smallest amount of gel he could make work and outlining his eyes in black. A syringe and plastic test tube filled with glowing green liquid were sticking out of his pocket.

  He had everything he needed. Except his date.

  The thought of being with Riley again, dancing with her tonight and taking her back to her apartment later, put a huge smile on his face. Stop that. He scowled at his reflection. You look like a grinning idiot. It bordered on alarming, how much he looked forward to seeing her.

  Last night he’d tossed and turned in his bed, tempted to go knock on her door. How pathetic was it that he hadn’t been able to go twenty-four hours without wanting to kiss her or touch her?

  He’d assured himself it was the proximity that made staying away so difficult. He had a healthy sex drive. It was natural he’d get distracted by the knowledge that on the other side of his door—and, technically the other side of hers—was a woman who could rock a man to his core with her mouth. The way she’d made him feel, the way she’d moved—

  Thank heaven the tight-fitting superhero costume hadn’t been available. At least now he had a long jacket to help cover how turned on he was.

  He switched off the light in the bathroom and went to get his keys off the bar. There was one part of his proximity theory that bothered him. There was no telling how long he and Riley were going to be neighbors. How difficult was it going to be to stop wanting her once she started dating someone? Exactly one week ago, he’d come home to find her in the hallway with her date—and Jack hadn’t liked seeing her with him, even though he had no rational basis for jealousy or judgment.

  How much worse would it be now, to pass Riley and her date in the hallway? To watch her go in for the night with a man fortunate enough to win her affections, knowing how it felt to be that man?

  Exasperated, he started to jam a hand through his hair, then remembered the gel and goggles. Since when was he this ridiculous person, mooning over what-ifs that had no bearing on the present? Riley herself had said she didn’t want to date.