The Dare Collection: March 2018 - Nicola Marsh Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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which were solely my responsibility.

      I’d come so far in a year I could hardly believe I was the same person. Thank goodness I’d had the guts to leave that subservient, pathetic people-pleaser who’d given up my dreams to live someone else’s behind.

      That was another thing sex with Tanner gave me: empowerment. An intoxicating feeling of power that eradicated the shy girl I’d once been.

      Performing my first blowjob might have been intimidating, but the way he’d reacted, the way he’d stared at me afterward...made me feel more powerful than I ever had. I might have been in a subservient position on my knees, intent on giving him pleasure, but the person I’d ended up pleasing was me.

      I’d never felt so alive. So dominant. So in control. Heady stuff for the doormat I’d once been.

      When I’d first proposed a fling to Tanner, I’d never anticipated that having my sensual side awakened would result in feeling this good. In making my body come alive, he’d also given me something I’d always craved: clout. Command over myself and my choices. The confidence to do what I wanted when I wanted, without regard for anyone else.

      Something I’d secretly craved for years but never had the guts to do. Then again, it was easier with Tanner because we didn’t have a strong emotional connection. I didn’t feel the need to say yes to every little thing with him because our relationship focussed on the physical.

      Which was exactly why I’d freaked out and come down here early this morning. Because no matter how many times I mentally recited that we were two consenting adults attracted to each other indulging in a short-term fling, after the way we’d connected last night and my desire to know more about him, I had a sneaking suspicion we could move past that.

      And it terrified me.

      The closer we got, would I be in danger of reverting to the meek, passive people-pleaser who always put others before herself? The woman who felt good about herself by making others feel good first? A guy like Tanner would hate that acquiescent docility and I’d hate myself for doing it.

      Crap.

      I concentrated on rolling and folding the dough over layers of butter, focussing on the routine to distract from my worrying thoughts, trying to relax. I liked the methodical approach to baking, the knowledge that following a clearly delineated process should result in an edible end product.

      The routine calmed me, something I craved to deal with the riotous, out-of-control feelings ricocheting through me every time Tanner popped into my head.

      He was there. A lot. Front and centre. Tanner shirtless and defiant in his private room at the club. Tanner stalking towards me in the storeroom. Tanner licking carbonara sauce off his lips. Tanner naked and sated, sprawled across my bed like he owned it.

      Hell.

      I opened the oven to slide the first batch of croissants in, the radiant heat not helping my fiery cheeks.

      Baking might be comforting, but as a distraction from the hot male in my bed upstairs it left a lot to be desired.

      Time to bring out the big guns.

      I’d nail the elusive croquembouche today if it killed me.

      Anything to divert me from the yearning to head back upstairs and have Tanner nail me.

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      Tanner

      I HATED SNEAKING out of Abby’s apartment like a fugitive, but I wasn’t an idiot. She didn’t want to face an inquisition from her co-workers and that was exactly what would’ve happened if I’d rocked into Le Miel wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

      Nothing got past Makayla. The woman had eyes in the back of her head and I pitied the guy she set her sights on. Bold ball-breakers weren’t my type. I preferred quiet, reserved women who morphed into sex kittens with the barest touch.

      Women like Abby.

      Leaving me breakfast had been just like her, a thoughtful gesture reeking of unspoken sentiment. Unfortunately, there’d been plenty of that going around last night.

      We’d barely spoken once we’d hit the bedroom. Then again, words were superfluous when we both suspected what was going on.

      We’d potentially crossed the bonking buddies threshold into some weird, nebulous territory neither of us wanted to label. Not giving it credence suited me just fine. Her too, considering she must’ve bolted out of bed at some ungodly hour.

      So I scoffed my buttery soft chocolate croissant, drank my OJ and slunk down the back stairs, the words of her simple note imprinted on my brain.

      Thanks for last night. Hope you enjoyed dinner.

      Must do it again soon.

      Back stairs quiet in the morning.

      See you later.

      Abby

      Interestingly, no X. I thought all women liberally sprinkled kisses on their missives. Then again, I’d already established Abby wasn’t like most women.

      The ‘must do it again soon’ made me look forward to tonight in a way I shouldn’t. I wasn’t dating Abby. This wasn’t a relationship. But dinner had been great and I’d like to return the favour. By taking her to my favourite restaurant in Sydney.

      I’d never gone out with a foodie before, and considering her wealthy background, she’d probably dined at the finest restaurants this city had to offer. So I’d take her to my favourite hangout, a tiny Thai restaurant in the backstreets of Kings Cross, a place I’d give my left nut as a guarantee she’d never been to.

      It wouldn’t be a date. Just a friend returning the favour to another friend who’d cooked for me. Simple.

      ‘You’re full of shit,’ I muttered at my reflection as I shaved, something I hadn’t done for the last few days.

      I didn’t care about stubble as a rule, but Remy had always pulled me up on it ever since I’d been old enough to grow facial hair. Considering Remy would have enough to bust my balls about today, I didn’t want to add another thing to the list.

      The drive to the hospital took fifty minutes in peak-hour traffic, giving me ample time to come up with a plausible excuse as to why I’d shagged his protégé. By the time I’d parked and made it to the ward, I still hadn’t come up with anything other than the truth.

      Abby was hot and I had to have her.

      Bet that would go down a treat with my brother.

      I peeked into his room and saw Remy jabbing at the remote control, idly flicking channels, looking bored out of his brain. ‘Hey, klutz, how are you feeling?’

      ‘Better for seeing your ugly mug.’ He turned off the TV and sat straighter in bed, wincing.

      ‘Still in pain?’

      ‘Only way these fools will give me the good stuff.’ He made looping circles at his temple. ‘That morphine makes me a little crazy, in a good way.’

      I laughed and leaned down to give him a gentle man hug. ‘You’re perkier than last time, so that’s a good sign.’

      ‘Doc said I’m a model patient.’ He screwed up his nose. ‘Personally, I find it difficult to take the word of a punk wearing a white coat and stethoscope around his neck when he looks like he graduated from kinder last week.’

      ‘Everyone looks young to you, you old fart.’

      He pointed at his ankle and grimaced. ‘Considering I’ll have to use a walking stick once I’m on my feet, I may be living up to that insult.’

      ‘You’re only as old as the woman you feel,’ I said, wondering what was Abby’s age exactly.

      ‘Sadly,

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