The Dare Collection: March 2018. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER TWELVE

      Tanner

      ‘FLOUR STOCKS ARE LOW—same with sugar and butter. We’ve got a flood of orders coming in that haven’t been catalogued. And the front display cabinet looks like something a toddler arranged. What the hell’s going on?’

      I glowered at Abby, hating the flicker of resentment in those stunning blue eyes that had been filled with passion only two days ago.

      I’d been riding her—metaphorically, worse luck—ever since I’d arrived at seven this morning. But I had to keep it up, had to keep emotional distance between us, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her.

      Walking in this morning and having her fix me with that cool blue indifferent gaze, like nothing had happened between us, made me want to bend her over the counter and thrust into her until sweet, sensual Abby was back.

      I liked that Abby. Liked her willing and wanton and wet. Desperate for me.

      But I liked that Abby too much—too much to be good for me—and therein lay the problem.

      So I’d donned my poker face and reflected her indifference right back at her. Though it was an act. A forced act we were both perpetuating in the hope neither of us would crack.

      I’d known it would be like this. That she would pretend like nothing had happened. Hell, she’d made it painfully obvious she didn’t want me ever since we’d met, her disdain palpable. Which only served to dent my ego and make me want to rattle her all the more.

      It was like some weird twisted game we were playing. Push and pull. A battle of wills. Too bad for her, I’d never backed down from a challenge in my life. I could out-stubborn a donkey. Because I’d learned from an early age that the only way to cope with Dad’s derogatory crap was with indifference.

      He’d hated it. I’d done it more. He’d never made me crack. Nobody could. I’d become too hardened, too cynical, too tough.

      Too tough for the likes of Abby, that was for sure.

      I’d ultimately break her and that wouldn’t be good. For her, for Remy, maybe for me too.

      Though I was a big boy, I could take it. But Remy would hate me for running off his golden girl and I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t care what other people thought of me. Anyone except Remy. His opinion mattered. He mattered. He always had.

      So I’d keep up this ridiculous charade no matter how much I wanted Abby.

      ‘I’ll get Makayla to check the orders and the front display. As for supplies, today’s delivery is late. It happens sometimes.’ She glared at me like something she’d stepped in. A particularly nasty something that stuck to her shoe no matter how hard she tried to wipe it off. ‘I’ll go check in the storeroom. We usually stock extras for emergencies.’

      ‘Fine,’ I muttered through gritted teeth, feeling like an ogre as I watched her retreating back and her ass.

      I couldn’t help it. Remembering the soft curve of her cheeks. The way they felt beneath my hands. How she’d squealed when I’d bitten her.

      She paused at the door to the storeroom and glanced over her shoulder.

      Damn, sprung, as I dragged my gaze upward but not fast enough.

      With a raised eyebrow, she said, ‘If your foul mood is a result of what happened between us and you’re feeling awkward, forget it.’ Her gaze turned glacial. ‘I have.’

      I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d flipped me the bird as she stalked into the storeroom and slammed the door.

      ‘Fuck.’ I dragged a hand through my hair and resisted the urge to kick the nearest counter.

      I should leave her to her snit in peace. But that was the thing about never backing down; I couldn’t stop my feet from following her even if I wanted to. And I didn’t. I wanted her to take back that last remark.

      She hadn’t forgotten our steamy encounter any more than I had. So she must’ve thrown it out there in hurt.

      And I hadn’t wanted to hurt her.

      I’d apologise for acting like a jackass. Smooth the way towards a better working relationship. Yeah, that was the plan.

      A plan that imploded the moment I entered the storeroom and saw her braced against a table, chest heaving, eyes flashing, chin tilted up in defiance.

      ‘Get out,’ she yelled, her hands balling into fists, and she thumped the table.

      In response, I kicked the door shut.

      Locked it.

      ‘Don’t you dare come near me,’ she said, not moving a muscle as I advanced on her. She squared her shoulders the closer I got, staring me down. Even when we stood almost toe to toe, she didn’t flinch. ‘You’re a boorish, idiotic, moody—’

      My mouth slammed onto hers. Our teeth clashed a little, our noses bumped. A disastrous kiss from an experienced guy like me but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything but savouring the sweetness of her mouth again. Taunting her tongue to match mine. Exploring the crevices of her mouth like I’d never get enough.

      Her hands clutched at my shirt, like she wanted to push me away. She hauled me closer, clawing at the cotton, wanting skin.

      I knew the feeling.

      At my apartment two nights ago, I’d worshipped her body. Taken my time. A leisurely exploration that had imprinted on my brain. Every dip and curve. Every ticklish spot. Every erogenous inch that I’d licked and stroked and caressed until she’d been mindless with want.

      Now there was no time for finesse.

      ‘Hurry up,’ she growled in my ear, nipping at the tender skin below it, her teeth grazing my skin with short, sharp nibbles before she licked her way along my jaw towards my mouth.

      Sensual Abby was back and I couldn’t be happier.

      I made short work of her zipper. Pushed her panties down. And slid my finger into moist heat.

      ‘More,’ she murmured, and I was only too happy to acquiesce to her demand.

      I fished a condom out of my wallet, unzipped and sheathed myself in record time.

      I had to be inside her. Now.

      With her pants around her ankles, I couldn’t spread her legs wide so I spun her around and bent her over the table.

      Exposing that gorgeous ass.

      ‘You like doing it doggy style, don’t you?’ I slid a hand around the front, fingering her clit as I nudged at her slick folds. ‘Two times the other night.’

      ‘Too much talking.’ She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes flashing indigo fire, taunting me.

      I entered her in a smooth thrust that made her gasp.

      ‘Better?’ I whispered, leaning over her, making our fit even snugger.

      She moaned in response and wiggled her ass.

      She wanted more? I’d give it to her.

      I slid in and out. Slow at first. Wanting to drive her as mad as she drove me. But I couldn’t hang on. Not when I’d been fantasising about this for the last two days. Not when she felt better than I remembered.

      My cock pulsed with every thrust, the pressure building, and my finger picked up tempo on her clit until she was pushing back at me as hard as I was pushing into her.

      ‘So good...’ She stiffened, a moment before she let out a long, satisfied groan, as her pussy clenched around me.

      I