If You Dare (6 page)

“Yes,” she whispered, followed with a soft, sweet kiss on his mouth and four more words that threatened to cave his chest in on the spot. “Make love to me.”

Chapter 9

Lily could feel Marcus’s heart hammering against her chest. Or maybe that was her heart. She’d just given him carte blanche to have his wicked way with her, but he was frozen in place, his breathing tight, his body still.

“Marcus?”

His hands found her face in the dark. He brushed her cheeks with the pads of his fingers with so much tenderness, it startled her. His lips hovered over hers, his breath warm against her mouth. “Say that again, McIntire.” His words were gravel-laden and hard, his touch soft.

She smiled. Why, suddenly, was everything about him making her so…happy? The
hot
, she understood. The
hot
was a given. But the happy? Definitely a surprise. She arched her back and wrapped her arms around his neck, brushing her nipples against the course hair on his chest.

“Make love to me, Marcus,” she whispered. “Please.”

The urge to giggle was strong, and she squashed it. Not because this was funny. Not because this was kidding, but because of that inexplicable happiness, now coating her body alongside all of this lust.

And maybe because their banter hadn’t ended at the foot of the air mattress. They’d always teased. They’d always prodded. She liked this holding pattern. There was something familiar about it, and she’d hold on tight if it meant easing into the unfamiliar position they’d found themselves in.

“Oh, I like when you beg,” he teased back.

She felt his smile against her lips. Maybe he was holding tight, too. He pulled away from her, and her arms landed with a soft
whump
on the blankets. He tugged at her remaining clothing, dragging off her pants and panties, socks and shoes, and dropping them somewhere in the dark.

She heard his zipper next, and her heart thudded out the excitement flitting through her veins. This was really happening. She was going to feel all that hard male muscle up close and oh-so-personal. She heard the rasp of denim and felt the shift of weight as he removed his jeans and dropped his boots with one
thud
followed by another. The crinkle of a foil packet told her he’d been carrying a condom, and for that bit of Boy Scout preparedness, she would be eternally grateful.

“Pleasured by an ax-wielding madman,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.

A deep chuckle penetrated the silence and sent a flutter of feather-light tingles up her naked body. His knees were between her legs as he worked the condom over his length. She hadn’t seen him, but she’d felt him.

And yeah.

Length
.

A smile she couldn’t prevent spread across her face as his hands landed on either side of her hips. She wanted to feel him inside her, the size of him stretching her, the delicious weight of his body when he came down over her.

Moonlight sliced through the boards in the window, highlighting one of his thick, hair-covered thighs. He leaned forward and the beam caressed his rippling torso, then his forearm where her hand rested. She caught a glimpse of his face next, and he gave her a genuine, sexy smile before lowering his lashes to take her in. Where she lay, the light crisscrossed her body, a slash across one thigh and the opposite calf. He moved his arm and the moonlight lit the red-blond hair between her legs.

Starting at her ankle, Marcus caressed his fingers up the back of her calf to the inside of her thigh. Her legs fell open, the pulse between them a steady beat, as gooseflesh rose on her skin in response to the opposing warmth of his fingers and the chill of the room.

His eyes on the triangle of curls between her legs, he murmured. “
Au naturale
,” not sounding the least bit disappointed.

She covered herself with one hand. “I didn’t exactly plan on…uh…company.”

“You misread my tone,” he said in a near growl. With a gentle touch, he moved her hand aside and fed his fingers through the fine hair between her legs. “I like you this way.” He stroked his finger along her wetness and delved inside, slowly, deeply.

She shuddered.

“Lil,” he said, his voice holding a reverence she’d never heard before. He slid into her again. “So wet,” he whispered as she gasped.

“Mmm,” was all she could manage while his talented fingers worked their magic at the
V
of her thighs. He added his thumb, stroking her while she made a series of nonsensical sounds. Then he pulled his hand away, and she let out a soft little whine.

“Your nipples are perfect.”

She laughed. Out of embarrassment for her carnal reaction or because his compliment sounded so heartfelt, she wasn’t sure which. Again she latched onto the banter that might help her find her footing. “I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, having seeing a few hundred pairs.”

He neither confirmed nor denied, only spoke with quiet authority. “Trust me, Lil, they don’t all look like yours.” Lowering his head, he took one on his tongue in the faint light slanting over her chest. He must have known she watched, because he spared her a glance. “Delicious.”

He licked his bottom lip, then drew the flat of his tongue slowly over her again. She shifted beneath him, unable to stop watching his slow assault, unable to keep from pressing her hips against the part of him she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

“I want to see yours,” she insisted, her voice weak. So weak.

“No,” he said, not moving away from her breasts.

Her hands in his hair, she wasn’t sure whether to guide him or pull him away. She was dying a little, in a very good way. “Why?” she breathed. Unable to keep from teasing him, she added, “Is it tiny?”

He made a choking sound and lifted his head. She could see the dampness on his lips, watched him narrow his eyes and peer at her through all those dark lashes. “You tell me,” he answered, his smile turning predatory as he nudged her entrance with his erection.

She gasped at the contact.
Definitely not tiny
. But she’d known that, had intended for him to answer her challenge. “Then let me see it,” she said with all the conviction she could muster. Which wasn’t much.

He moved until his face was over hers. Against her lips, he muttered in a low, almost threatening tone, “I’d rather you feel it.” Then pushed into her another inch.

The sound that came from her lips wasn’t a gasp, wasn’t feminine at all, actually. It was downright guttural. More like a
guh
followed by an expelled breath.
Nice work.
Because grunting was oh-so-sexy. This was one argument Marcus was winning.
Clearly
. He knew it, too, sliding deeper into her and pulling a long, low sound of satisfaction from her throat.

“Have it your way,” she whispered, surrendering.

He lowered to his elbows and hovered over her, blotting out the light with his body. “Lily. Finally. Out of my dreams.” He slid in to the hilt and paused, stretching her, filling her. A deep groan reverberated from his chest to hers.

Clinging to his back, she admired the curve of one rounded shoulder, the line of his torso. Then she closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see him. Just feel him. And there was a lot of him to feel.

He started to pull out, but she wrapped her legs around him, dug her heels into his tight butt, and savored every inch of him as he slid home again.

Encased within her, he blew out a breath and dropped his forehead to hers.

She lifted her lips to his, expecting him to devour her, tease her with his tongue and teeth, or rasp her flesh with the hard scrape of whiskers. He didn’t. Instead, he kissed her gently, his tongue tracing her lips while he moved his body in and out of hers at a slow, drugging pace, winding her tighter, causing her breath to catch. On a low, barely there whisper, she sighed his name again.

He drew in an answering breath, and she waited to hear the quip, the joke, the dab of levity for the most intense moment they’d ever shared. But he only dropped his head into the crook of her neck and laid his mouth over her leaping pulse as they found their unhurried rhythm in the dark.

As his chest brushed against her, she trailed her fingers along his back, reading the lines of muscle and ridges of his spine like Braille, committing every inch of him to memory. If they had only these stolen moments in this pocket of time, she’d take it. And she didn’t want to forget anything about him. Not the hardness of him between her legs, not the hair tickling her breasts, not the sound of his breath or the reverence in which he stroked her temples as he moved with her.

Marcus braced his weight on one arm, brushing a few stray strands aside as he kissed her cheek. He skimmed his other palm down the side of her body, over her ribs, the arch of her hip, and into the curls at the junction of her thighs.

Once there, he knew exactly what to do. Knew how much pressure to place against her sensitive nub, knew how to coordinate his thumb with the forward thrust of his hips as he drove into her again and again. It was a delicate dance he’d mastered, and she was fortunate to reap the rewards.

Her high, tight noises must have encouraged him because he stubbornly held his position, his fingers quickening their pace, his thick length plunging into her. That’s when she realized she had all the light she needed exploding behind her eyelids. Her body bucked. Close,
so close
to release. She couldn’t pinpoint what drove her wilder—the feel of his talented fingers playing her wet flesh or the slide of his body against hers as he slipped inside her.

Marcus continued his erotic assault, pushing her to the very edge of control. She went.
Willingly
. Her orgasm crashed into her with the same force it would have taken to smash the phantom china plates in the kitchen. This time it was Lily who shattered, splintering into a thousand pieces and flooding the room with her high cries of pleasure.

He moved his hand away from her center and grabbed her hip, grounding himself and using the leverage to launch into her once, twice. By the third thrust, he expelled a hot breath against her neck and Lily caught him against her, threading her hands into his hair. His entire body was hard and unyielding for a handful of seconds until his release. Then she felt his muscles relax and felt the long, low, satisfied exhalation fan the hair at her temple.

She wrapped her arms around his big shoulders, pulling him as close as she could. He braced his weight to keep from crushing her, but she didn’t think she’d care if he did. She’d gladly suffocate under all of his delicious, sated weight.

The thought drew another wordless sound of appreciation from her. “Mmm.” She stroked his hair.

“I concur.” He placed a kiss over her pulse, which was gradually returning to normal. He lay there for a few stolen moments, lips frozen over her neck before he uttered a muffled, “I’m trying to get up, I swear.”

The heater and lantern kicking on simultaneously cut off her quiet chuckle. After so many minutes of near-pitch black, it took a moment to adjust her eyes to the light. She blinked a few times and Marcus lifted his head, locking her in his dark brown gaze. She didn’t look away. Or maybe she couldn’t. He was still inside of her, still filling her. They were linked in the most intimate way, his penetrating gaze holding far too much honesty in the light.

She really had marginalized him, hadn’t she? Just classified him as a smarmy, one-dimensional bastard instead of getting past his joking exterior. And how could she doubt his vulnerability now that she saw it so clearly reflected in his eyes? He liked her…as in
really
, really liked her.

That might be enough to blow her mind if the sex hadn’t. And it had.

He closed his eyes and held his lips on hers for a long, soft kiss while he slid out of her for the final time. Against his mouth, she gasped. He groaned.

He sucked in a breath and blew it out in a laugh. “I have so many things to say,” he murmured. “But I’m afraid I’ll sound like a jackass.”

She understood. A litany of compliments, a few apologies for assuming the worst in him, and at least one question brewed in her throat. But asking him if they could do that again sometime sounded incredibly needy.

“Don’t say anything, then,” she told him, sounding way less affected than she actually was. He had wanted her. For two years. And even though the skeptical part of her brain argued he could have said that for show, she knew he hadn’t.

She just…knew.

He sat back on his knees and rummaged for a bag. She rolled to her side and reached for her pants, allowing him a bit of privacy to dispose of the condom.

While she unknotted her panties from the legs of her pants, he turned his shirt right side out. They dressed in the lantern’s light, every once in a while sparing a smile for each other. She liked him like this. Open, quiet. Sexy as sin on a stick.

He propped his hands on his narrow hips, his wide chest even more attractive in his T-shirt now that she knew what the cotton hid from view.

“You know what?” he asked, his voice tipping into that gravel-laden tone that made her damp in all the right places.

“What?” she purred up at him.

His eyebrows pinched. “I’m starving.”

Then he let loose a grin that squeezed her heart.

Chapter 10

“I knew those weren’t safe,” Lily said, mourning the loss of her Corn Nuts. “I only ate a handful of them.”

Marcus continued chewing, mumbling something that sounded like “a shame,” then upended the bag and drained the bits at the bottom into his mouth. He crumbled the bag into a ball, crunching merrily.

She shook her head and made do with the rest of the cheesecake. “Where did the wine go, anyway?”

“How do you lose things when we don’t go anywhere?”

“Shut up.” She tagged him in the arm as she spotted the wine bottle on its side across the room under one of the boarded windows. Thankfully, Marcus had wedged the cork into the top so it wasn’t leaking precious Merlot into the cracks in the floor. “Found it.”

She crawled off the mattress, and he wolf whistled. She’d expected him to. Her butt was in the air, and she’d been waggling it pretty good for him.

She smiled over her shoulder and waggled again.

“Don’t tempt me, woman. I had one condom.” He held up a finger. “One.”

Grasping the bottle, she had to smile. He hadn’t had enough of her, and she liked that. Very much. When she turned to tell him that there were plenty of condom-less pastimes they could explore, the bang against the board next to her head startled a shriek from her lungs instead.

Before she’d seen him move, Marcus was at her side, helping her scramble to her feet and positioning his body between hers and the window. She had upended the wine bottle, holding it by the neck to wield as a weapon.

“Tree?” she asked. Desperately.

“I don’t think so.” The foreboding in his tone didn’t make her feel any better. Neither did the fact that he shushed her when she started to speak again.

Another muffled bang sounded, this time from the other side of the house. “I think something’s outside,” came his husky whisper.

“Like what?” she asked, her voice strangled.

“I hope not people.”

Her stomach lurched. Where she’d felt warm and safe in his arms a moment ago, now Lily felt exposed, vulnerable. And foolish. They were in the middle of nowhere. The danger lurking outside these walls may not have been from some silly urban legend, but from someone made of flesh and bone who intended to do them bodily harm.

He extinguished the lantern, leaving them only in the pale orange glow of the heater. He faced her, staying her shoulders with his hand. “Wait here.”

“Are you crazy?” She clenched onto his arms, keeping her voice as low as she could while feeling hysterical. “Don’t leave me alone! What if they have guns?”

She couldn’t make out his expression in the dim light, but she felt his patient smile all the way down to the soles of her shoes. He opened her palm with rough fingers and dropped a metal cylinder into her hand. The flashlight.

He lowered his head and whispered against the top of her ear. “Lil,” he started, and already the fear in her stomach was receding, being replaced by lust.

Jeez
. The man was a drug.

“I doubt whoever’s out there is carrying a gun,” he said.

Oh, hello, Fear. Welcome back.

“Probably just some kids daring each other to run up and knock on the door,” he continued. “Ridiculous.” He kissed her temple lightly. “Who would come up here on a dare?”

She tried to smile, but she was too afraid.

“I’ll only be a sec. Find your keys.” Then he turned and walked into the kitchen, lantern in hand. She followed as far as the doorway and watched him fuss with the back door until the windowpane rattled and the door popped open with a squeak. Moonlight streamed through the gap.

He gave her a brief nod over his shoulder and walked outside.

Lily shielded the narrow beam of light as best she could while Marcus did a preliminary investigation of the mansion’s grounds.

She’d overturned her purse (again) and emptied out the grocery bags as quietly as possible. Although if there were
people out there, it wouldn’t matter how much noise she made. They’d no doubt seen her car out front. But if it were mischievous raccoons or—
gulp—
hungry coyotes, there was no sense in broadcasting her whereabouts.

She held the flashlight between her teeth and folded the last of the sheets and pillowcases, repacking as she went. She lifted the air mattress, on its way to deflating thanks to the workout she and Marcus had on top of it, unable to repress her smile.

But the smile faded quickly as she surveyed the leaf-strewn floor beneath. She had yet to find her keys. Stomach clenching, she looked at her phone, noticing the battery icon blinking at 3 percent with no signal inside the house. Daylight wasn’t far ahead, but it was still dark outside and would be for a while. And Marcus was out in it. Worry crept in, but she pushed it aside. He was beyond capable of taking care of himself.

She scrunched the pockets of her hoodie uselessly. Even if the keys
had
been in her jacket, she was sure they would have fallen out when Marcus took it off her earlier. She turned to the kitchen next, on the off
off
chance she’d overlooked them when she’d investigated earlier. She didn’t make it a single step before she heard the jingle. A jolly sound anywhere else…but behind these walls, it was anything but.

She had two keys. A house key. A car key. Because of her minimalist keychain, she’d needed a bauble large enough to help her locate them in her oversize purse. Last Christmas she’d found just the thing to tie to the ring. A pair of large jingle bells only better suited to Rudolph himself.

The bells jangled again and a rash of goose bumps leaped to the surface of her arms. The sound hadn’t come from her purse. Or this room.
Or even downstairs
. It’d come from the murky blackness at the top of the staircase
.
Real, ice-cold fear snaked down her spine, turning every brave part of her body yellow.
How on earth…?

“Find them?”

She spun toward the voice behind her, her open palm landing over her tortured heart. Marcus stood at the front door, his hand resting on the knob. He lowered the lantern and shut the door behind him. “Must have been animals. I didn’t see anyone out there.” His brow creased with concern the longer he looked at her. “You okay? What happened?”

Unable to explain yet another mysterious sound behind these walls, she shook her head.

“Enough.” He advanced on her, his steps firm, his voice an angry echo. She may have flinched if not for the unveiled concern in his eyes. “Enough of this stupid bet,” he growled. “We can walk to the road and call Clive from there.” Snagging her hand with his, he started for the door. “Let’s not push our luck.”

His palm warming hers and the fading fringes of their time together almost made her compliant enough to follow his lead. Almost. She stopped, planting her feet in place. He stopped, too, and turned his confused—
disappointed?
—face to hers.

She narrowed her eyes. The voice. The bells. He hadn’t been around for either occurrence. “Where were you just now?” she asked.

“Outside.” The confusion morphed into anger. His mouth flattened into a line. “You know that.”

“Do I?” She tugged her hand from his. Sure, he’d been by her side when they’d heard the crash in the kitchen, but maybe he’d hidden a recorder to go off at a certain time… Maybe he’d planned to get her good and scared. Maybe…she thought with sinking dread…he’d planned all of it. Including getting into her pants.

Panic radiated from her limbs. Surely he wouldn’t…would he? She searched his face, growing angrier by the moment. Having been a sucker in the past for men with knee-weakening charm, she wondered if she’d been taken advantage of again.

“It was you,” she said numbly. “Upstairs.”

It was the only explanation. She’d watched him vanish outside, heard him demand she stay in here, which made no sense when she thought about it. And now he waltzes through the front door and suggests they leave. And mere hours shy of meeting her goal.

“My keychain has Christmas bells on it. I heard them.” She pointed toward the second floor. “There’s no other explanation for how they got from here to up there.” None other than Marcus taking them when she wasn’t looking and sneaking up there while she stayed behind to search for them.

“I know you wanted Hawaii, but…” She shook her head, at a loss. “How could you do that after…?” Her words stalled even as she chastised herself for her transparency, the
vulnerability
in her statement. But the truth was, she
was
exposed. Especially after they’d…after they’d…
God
. She’d been an idiot to trust him.

“Lily,” he demanded. But still not a denial.

“I can’t believe I almost let you talk me into leaving.” She wouldn’t forfeit the bet. Not after so thoroughly forfeiting her dignity. She held out her palm, voice firm now. “Keys.”

When he didn’t respond, she wrapped her arms around his middle and patted his back pockets. Then thrust her hands into his front pockets.

He lashed an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against one strong thigh. “I don’t have them, Lil.” A muscle in his jaw ticked as he glared down at her. “But feel free to keep looking.”

She yanked her hand out of his front pocket and shook out of his grip. “I think you’ve gotten your jollies for the night,” she spat.

He took half a menacing step in her direction, his dark eyes swirling with anger. “I don’t recall you complaining,” he said, his voice a warning.

Her accusation was a nasty one, and his reaction gave her pause—his eyebrows were a pair of angry slashes and his teeth ground together, sending the muscle in his jaw flickering again.

Lily stood her ground anyway.

She crossed her arms over her breasts. “You may as well forget it happened. It’s never happening again.” Her voice faltered as doubt crept in. Maybe because his expression had gone from angry to betrayed and now was almost…sad.

“I could never forget you, Lily.” He sounded hurt. He
looked
hurt. “Ever,” he said, his throat working as he swallowed. As if he couldn’t bear to look at her any longer, he turned away.

That’s when she knew she’d made a terrible mistake in accusing him of playing her. She’d tossed out a verbal grenade, and it was too late to replace the pin.

She scrubbed her brow with one hand. It wouldn’t be easy to admit she’d been wrong—she’d never been good at it—but the least she could do was apologize. “Marcus, I’m—”

“Don’t.” His shoulders were hunched, his mouth set.

She’d hurt his feelings. Absolutely. Her heart crushed like an aluminum can. “I didn’t mean to—”

Footsteps overhead cut her sentiment short. They started at the ceiling over the air mattress.

Clomp.

Then advanced to where she and Marcus stood by the front door.

Clomp.

Clomp.

With each advancing step, she scooted a little closer to him, until the steps ended over her head, stopping with a final
clomp.

His body heat at her back made her want to wrap herself around him, hide behind him. But Marcus hadn’t touched her, so she didn’t touch him. The silence that followed the phantom footsteps was a living thing, wearing her heartbeat like a cloak. Her breathing turned hectic, the hairs on her arms stood unbidden. And her brain fumbled for a rational explanation for the footfalls that she sensed stood directly over her.

“Tell me you have an explanation for that,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

Marcus stepped up next to her and lifted his chin, studying the ceiling overhead. “You mean other than the fact that someone is up there?”

He no longer looked angry, stinging from her accusation. His face had drained of color, his lips thinned. Pale light was visible through a gap in the waterlogged ceiling. The steps began again, blotting out the light briefly as they retreated to the other side of the house.

Clomp.

Clomp.

Clomp.

Then they vanished into the silence once again
.

Lily fisted Marcus’s T-shirt with both hands, eyes filling with tears of terror. “Could it be Clive?” The words trembled from her lips. “Could he have sneaked back to scare both of us?” That didn’t even sound like something Clive would do, but she’d take the explanation. She’d take
any
explanation Marcus offered. Only he hadn’t offered one.

She pulled on his shirt. “Marcus?”

“Not Clive,” he managed. He lowered his gaze slowly, meeting her eyes.

She could still see the pain there, even beneath the fear. The pain she’d put there with her allegations.

“See if your phone works,” he said, pulling his shirt from her grip. That stung. She took the phone out of her pocket as Marcus backed away. He’d wanted to be as close as possible earlier. How quickly she’d changed things.

The button meant to bring her phone to life was answered by the cautionary beep of her deceased battery. The screen went black. She licked her lips and reached for hope, despite the dwindling amount. “What about yours?”

He shook his head.

That brought the count to two dead phones, a pair of unexplained footsteps upstairs, and one set of missing keys now in the hands of whomever…or whatever…was tromping around on the second floor.

And Marcus pretty much hated her.

Perfect.

He left her side so suddenly, she was alarmed to find herself alone by the door. She scrambled after him. “Where are you going?”

Without answering, he placed one boot on the first step of the staircase and one hand on the railing.

She grabbed his belt loop and tugged. “Are you nuts? Don’t go up there.”