She Who Dares (15 page)

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Authors: Jane O'Reilly

BOOK: She Who Dares
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Nic swallowed, so very, very, tempted to push her luck. But then she thought about Ella, and the Ferrari, and the hours of work she and Sebastian had put into it. She thought about the silver cases and bottles and potions, and the two women waiting for her attention. She thought about the box of silk and sass that sat on the bathroom floor.

If she chose to wait, there was always a possibility that Sebastian might change his mind. Waiting for the right time was always a risk. What if the right time never came? But it didn’t scare her any more. She didn’t feel that cold, sick fear that she had lived with for so long, the fear of not being good enough and worse than that, actually pushing out to try something new and having that fear confirmed.

Instead, she felt comfortably calm. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Have it your way.’

Turning to Jeanie, who stood waiting by the side of the chair, she flashed a smile. ‘I think I’d like to try those red streaks, please.’ And Sebastian would be next in the chair.

Whether he liked it or not.

By the time two o’clock rolled round, Nic’s nerves were so bad that Sebastian had to drive them to St Austell and coax the Ferrari on to the field. She stroked a hand over her hair, which Jeanie had cropped into a chin length style that flicked up at the back, and streaked with red. Not big, chunky stripes, as Nic had been expecting, but subtle strands picked out in raspberry pink and strawberry blonde.

To go with the hair, Sam had done something with make-up that made her eyes look smoky and huge, and her lips like she’d just left her lover in bed and didn’t give a damn who knew it.

And then there was the outfit. She didn’t realise the full extent of it until Sebastian got out of the car and came around to open her door. He leaned in, broad shoulders blocking out the light. ‘I’m beginning to think this was all a very bad idea.’

‘Why?’

‘Because looking at you has me so turned on I can’t think straight.’ He reached out, stroked a hand down the length of one bare thigh. ‘I want you to spend the whole afternoon thinking of me inside you. Of where I’m going to put my mouth, my hands. Of how loud you’re going to scream.’

Nic leaned forward and did something she would never, ever have done a week ago. She wrapped her fingers round his wrist, lifted his hand and placed it very deliberately over her right breast. The pressure of it, the warmth soaked through the thin gold silk that covered her top half, and her nipple became instantly tight. He sucked in a sharp breath. She looked up at him, saw the desire that hardened his jaw and softened his mouth. ‘If you want to hear me scream, you’re going to have to make me.’

‘Oh, I will,’ he said, and it was a promise and it was a threat and it was everything, and it stayed in her mind as he helped her out of the car. It stayed in her mind as she chatted to Ella, and for the first time there wasn’t animosity or bitterness. There was just sunshine and ice-cream and laughter. They weren’t stepsisters, forced together by fate and parental choice. They were just two women who knew each other well enough to know all the in-jokes.

It stayed in her mind as she started the Ferrari up for the judges, grateful that she’d swapped the cocktail dress she’d chosen with Ella for the gold silk blouse, sequinned hotpants and soft red leather boots that Sebastian had presented her with that morning.

She felt outrageous and sexy, and yet she felt like herself, and she knew that people were looking at her. Lots of people — and a lot of them male.

But only one of them made her burn. How could there be so much fire, so much desire, so much between them when they’d barely even touched? How could there be so much certainty? Because when she looked at Sebastian, standing next to the beer tent with Adam, pint in his hand, she knew she’d committed herself.

Time would tell to what.

The car had been started, inspected, and Nic knew it had passed the test. How could it not? Holding a hand over her eyes to shield her gaze from the sun, she cast an experienced eye over the others parked on the field. A gorgeous Mercedes SL, a 1960s campervan complete with floral paintwork, a yellow Bugatti that was too new to be considered vintage but was still drawing a lot of attention from the crowd. If it was all down to the cars, her biggest rival was the baby pink 1956 Thunderbird. The chrome gleamed in the sun, and the whole car seemed to smile. It was a delicious piece of vintage, Nic was forced to admit. ‘Never mind,’ she said, stroking the bonnet of her Ferrari. ‘She’s not as gorgeous as you.’

The driver, however, might well be. Young, blonde, with an acre of cleavage bursting out of a fifties style dress with black poodles trotting around the pink satin skirt, she was every inch the living, breathing Barbie doll, and everything the judges were looking for.

Nic refused to feel cowed. She ruffled her freshly cut hair and wiggled her toes inside the beautifully soft red leather boots, and thought about Sebastian. No-one could take this from her. No-one.

But nothing could stop her heart from sinking when the judge came strolling in to view, a clipboard tucked under his arm. He wouldn’t be looking at the technical aspects of the car, she knew. He was there entirely to score them on appearance, on the polish of the car.

And the attractiveness of the woman.

It was pathetic. For the first time since she was fifteen, she let herself see Misses and Motors for what it truly was — an outdated, sexist, judgemental load of nonsense. Who was this man to say whether she was attractive or not? ‘Hello,’ she said as he walked slowly around the car and scribbled something on the sheet attached to his clipboard. ‘Do you have any questions about the car?’ She planted one hand on her hip and sauntered around to where he stood.

‘No.’ His gaze slithered over her body, then returned to the clipboard again. He scribbled some more.

‘You know this is demeaning to women, right?’

The judge stopped scribbling. ‘What’s your point?’

Nic was completely taken aback. ‘Aren’t you even going to try and justify it?’ she said finally.

‘No.’

Nic felt her whole body go tight, every muscle charged with anger. Little gold lights danced along the side of the Ferrari, as the sequins on her shorts played with the sunshine. She saw shapely thighs, sexy red boots. She saw, for the first time, what everyone else saw. It was what she’d always secretly hoped they would see — an attractive, daring, stylish woman with don’t-give-a-damn written all over her. Except that she did give a damn. She’d worked seriously hard on the Ferrari, and yet the competition would be decided by the shine of her hair.

Opening the driver’s side door, Nic dropped into the seat and gunned the engine. She toed the accelerator, pushed it to snarling point and was rewarded when the judge dropped his clipboard and jumped about three feet in the air. ‘Sorry,’ she called out, letting the revs drop. ‘Did I scare you?’

‘Of course not,’ he snapped. ‘You simply took me by surprise. Please turn off the engine, Miss Sinclair.’

Oh, it was like that, was it? She dropped the handbrake; let the nose edge forward a few inches. ‘I thought you might want to hear the engine.’

‘What?’ His eyes were wide, a muscle twitching in one podgy cheek as he held one hand out, palm up, as if that could stop a Ferrari with an angry woman at the wheel.

She let the car rumble forward a bit further. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of Sebastian, hands on hips, watching her with that wicked grin on his face, and it fired her up. She thought about sex games in the garage, about what Ella had said. She felt bold and brave and daring. A little pressure on the accelerator, the Ferrari got ready to pounce, and that grin got wider.

A tingle worked its way through her body. No, not a tingle. A hot shiver of pure anticipation. She licked her lips, and Sebastian’s gaze turned scorching. His chest heaved, as if he was finding it hard to breathe. God knows she was.

A little more on the accelerator, a delicious snarl from the engine. Nic was so wrapped up in the sound, in the silent communication happening between her and Sebastian that she didn’t notice the car start to inch forwards. Nor did she notice the judge, until it was too late. He leapt back like a scalded cat, shouted something at her, then shoved the clipboard under his arm and marched off.

Nic turned off the engine and sat in silence for a moment. She’d had a chance — a real chance — and she’d just sabotaged it. Everyone had worked so hard to get her to this point — Ella, Sebastian, especially Sebastian, and she’d thrown all their hard work back in their faces. Her forehead met the hard curve of the steering wheel and she closed her eyes, willing the nightmare to go away. Arguing with the judge and then nearly running him over was not the way to score points. Why had she done it? Why had she decided to go crazy today, of all days?

It had to be the hair dye and the make-up. The chemicals must have messed with her brain. The passenger door opened, and Sebastian folded himself into the seat.

‘Nice work, princess.’ His voice was low, husky, amused.

Nic groaned. ‘I screwed up.’

‘Maybe, maybe not,’ he said. ‘This is the best car on the field. Anyone can see that. And you look phenomenal. You are phenomenal.’

Nic set her hand to the key. ‘Tell me we’re leaving. Tell me you want this and you can’t wait any longer. Please.’

He turned and set his gaze on her. One large hand slipped over her thigh, warm fingers drifting upwards until they teased at the edge of her shorts. She opened her legs, lifted her hips a little, wanting him in, too desperate to care that they were sat in a car in the middle of a crowded field.

His thumb slipped under, his hand warm and firm against her flesh. ‘God, Nic,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper. Colour rode high on his sharp cheekbones. ‘Drive.’

‘Where to?’ Nic managed, as his thumb moved further in, stroking, teasing.

‘Anywhere but here.’

She put the car in gear, rumbled it slowly off the field and on to the track that led to the road. Dirt crunched under the tyres and the front end bounced, but Nic didn’t care. All she could think about was Sebastian and heat and his hands on her. Tension twisted in her insides, her head a mess, the need too great to ignore.

His fingers were still, but the touch was intimate, magnified a thousand times by the vibrations of the engine and the unforgiving suspension. She felt every jolt right down to her very core.

They headed out on to the road, and Nic drove aimlessly, endlessly. It took everything she had just to keep the car on the road. Sun dappled through the windshield, making bright patterns on the pale dash. Neither of them spoke. There wasn’t anything to say.

The gates for Sebastian’s house loomed into view. Nic didn’t know what part of her had brought them here; she only knew that it was right. She took the turn, barely missing the stone wall, way beyond being careful.

‘Stop the car,’ Sebastian ordered her.

She slammed on the brakes and brought them skidding to a halt. Gravel flew, bounced, as the world took a moment to catch up with them. Nic killed the engine, pulled on the handbrake.

‘What do you want from me?’ he said, his hand still between her legs.

‘I…I want you to touch me.’

‘And?’ He moved his thumb just a little, brushing over the most sensitive part of her, and she couldn’t hold in the moan.

‘I…I want you to…’

‘Say it.’

Nic pulled in a deep breath, held on tight to the steering wheel. ‘I…I need you to make me come. Please, Sebastian.’ She squirmed in her seat, the pressure of his hand almost unbearable. She hadn’t been touched in such a long time. She’d never been touched like this. He wasn’t pawing at her, pulling at her clothes.

She risked a glance at him, found him watching her, his eyes dark, intent, focussed. He reached up, and with a twist of his wrist, altered the position of the rear-view mirror. He tapped the edge with his finger. ‘Keep those pretty eyes fixed right here,’ he said. ‘Understand?’

Nic nodded, catching her bottom lip under her teeth and biting until it hurt. Her fingers curled into the edge of her seat as one strong male hand slid down the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and swept back up again, in a move so gentle that it stole the breath from her lungs. Every nerve went on high alert.

Heat pooled in her core, a desperate tightness combined with a shocking sense of emptiness, a need to be filled that only got worse when his hand touched the top of her thigh and he slid his thumb back inside her shorts with no warning, no apology, and no hesitation. ‘Keep watching,’ he said, and it was all she could do to keep her gaze fixed on the mirror and still remember how to breathe.

He was so confident in this, so certain, and it was as if the touch of his hand spread that feeling in to her. There were no doubts, no shame as she moved her knees apart. Sebastian chuckled, pulled his thumb out of her and replaced it with not one but two fingers. She acknowledged the change and the pleasure with an arch of her back and a gasp which quickly turned into a moan as the heel of his hand pressed down against the satin that covered her.

A simple movement, a touch, once and then again. Nic watched herself in the mirror, watched as her eyes turned black and her lids heavy and her skin pink. She shifted in her seat, needing to move her hips, restless and desperate and so very, very turned on.

Each brush of his thumb made her want to explode, each push of his fingers soothed the ache and made it worse, all in the same inexplicable way. She wanted so much, but she wanted nothing more than this, than his hand on her, bringing her such wicked delight.

What she felt on the inside she saw reflected on the outside. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘So very beautiful. Come on, Nic. Let it go.’

Passion rode her hard as she ground herself against his hand and he muttered that same, dirty little phrase he’d used before and then she was gone. Her heels dug deep into the footwell, her hand landing in the middle of Sebastian’s hard, powerful chest as her orgasm pulled her in and then threw her out with a scream. Her eyes slammed shut, but she wasn’t alone in the dark.

Because Sebastian was with her.

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