The Dare Collection: August 2018. Avril Tremayne

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      She nodded. “Okay.”

      When the gap widened, I drove through. Compared to the other houses on the street, hers was on a smaller scale but still impressive enough to blend comfortably into the neighborhood.

      Built on two levels with a tapered roof, the tiered white European-style mansion took up several thousand square feet, with tall rectangular paned windows that drew an inward grimace. All her stalker needed was a decent set of binoculars and he could follow her every move when she was home. And that second floor tier was also a problem especially if my suspicion that one or all of the bedrooms came with a terrace overlooking the backyard was confirmed.

      The front door looked solid enough, though. I couldn’t do anything about the Roman pillars framing the front porch, but the seven-foot potted plants on either side of the door needed to be relocated.

      She opened her door and jumped out. I stopped myself from growling my annoyance and got out, reaching her just as she climbed the last step onto the stone-laid porch.

      I touched her upper arm. “Wait.”

      Apprehension flickered across her face. “Your security people were just here. Surely you—?”

      “Can’t be too careful. Keys?”

      She dug through her satchel and handed the keys over. I unlocked the door and saw a large foyer.

      “There’s a light switch on your left,” she said.

      I flicked it on, bathing the large space in a warm golden glow. An alarm beeped from a panel next to the switch. I entered the code.

      Silence settled in as I took in the layout of the first floor. Two short corridors forked from the entrance foyer on either side of a grand staircase made of wood and trellised iron. At the end of the left hallway, I saw shadowy frames of sofas and a coffee table, which meant the right hallway probably led to the kitchen.

      I motioned her inside and turned the dead bolt on the door. “Stay here. I’ll check out the other rooms,” I murmured. The gun I’d tucked in my back before we left the airport rested reassuringly against my skin.

      She sucked in a slow breath before her gaze met mine. “I prefer to come with you,” she whispered firmly.

      The statement wasn’t made out of fear of being on her own. No, Lily was nervous.

      The possible reason why hit me with a punch. “Do you live here alone?” I demanded.

      “What if I do?” Her chin rose, daring me to have a problem with it.

      “Hey, I’m not judging.” The size of the house didn’t warrant the question. “I’d rather not surprise anyone at four in the morning.”

      Her gaze swept away. “Oh, right. No, there’s no one else here,” she murmured.

      “Okay, you can come. Just stay behind me, got it?”

      She jerked out a nod, albeit a distracted one.

      There were no surprises in the kitchen or the pantry, same for the sizeable laundry room. I double-checked the outer doors to make sure they were locked before inspecting the other rooms on my way into the living room.

      I guessed the reason for her uneasiness a few minutes later.

      The two living rooms connected by a long entryway with a door leading to a study weren’t exactly untidy, but they weren’t pristine, either.

      A discarded throw on one side of the sofa, an empty glass on the table, cushions on the floor in front of a marble fireplace. Over one arm of another sofa, a tank top draped precariously with a black lace bra tucked into the sleeves. Besides the superficial untidiness, all the surfaces were clean, and the decor was tasteful enough to show someone cared enough to make the house a home.

      However, when I glanced over, her cheeks were pink, adorable shades of strawberry over the cream.

      “So I’m not the tidiest person in the world,” she said defensively. “When I’m buried in work I forget to pick up after myself. And I gave my housekeeper time off, so...” She shrugged, then skirted the sofa, her gaze darting furtively around the room.

      “You like to be comfortable in your own space. Nothing wrong with that.” Except the sight of those plump cushions in front of the pale marble fireplace was restoking the fire she started on the plane.

      She snatched the tank and bra off the sofa and dropped them into a cabinet drawer.

      I dragged my gaze from her to properly study the room. Two sets of doors led outside. Lots of windows covered by expensive-looking drapes. All to be secured tomorrow.

      As if drawn by magnets, my eyes returned to the cushions, to the hint of bright pink poking out from between two cushions. Before I could confirm what it was, Lily moved to block my view of it.

      I raised an eyebrow and her color deepened.

      “Shall we move on?” she blurted.

      I ate the grin threatening, welcoming the chance to cool my raging libido. “By all means.”

      We retraced our steps to the foyer and headed downstairs to the basement.

      A flick of a switch illuminated the corners of the impressive movie theater, equipped with everything a movie buff needed, including luxury loungers and an extensive 1950s-style snack and drinks bar at the far side of the room. I checked out the bar, the small pantry and the bathroom before motioning for her to enter.

      She made a beeline for the front row and the object lying out in the open.

      The bright pink object was the same as the one I saw upstairs, but this vibrator clearly stood out against the black sheepskin throw discarded on the middle seat facing the giant screen.

      My breath locked in my lungs as an image of her spread out on the lounger with her favorite gadget between her legs sideswiped me. Before I could recover from it, another image punched through. This time I was the one positioned between her legs, seeing to her pleasure as whatever chick flick she preferred played in the background.

      Only she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a single thing on the screen. Hell, no.

      She would be half out of her mind, grabbing my hair and arching her back as she begged me to please, please, please get her off.

      My pulse kicked into uncomfortable levels as I watched her grip close over the sex toy.

      “Can I make a suggestion?” My tongue felt as thick as the hard-on pressing against my fly.

      Her fingers clenched around the pink object. “No.”

      I adjusted myself before moving toward her. “If you’re that embarrassed by having anyone see your naughty toys, maybe don’t leave them lying around?”

      “A gentleman wouldn’t mention this,” she snapped.

      “And a lady wouldn’t have crawled onto the table on my plane, teased me with her body and stroked my cock without at least buying me a drink first, but here СКАЧАТЬ