Page 60 of Maximum Dare
“You don’t get to tell me what I can or cannot do.”
“You don’t want my advice anymore?”
“No, because you’re nothing to me.” She inhaled sharply.
It was a bald-faced lie—the one we’d been telling each other since we’d first met.
I scratched the back of my head as I tried to ignore her beauty, her compelling eyes tracing my every move.
Stepping forward to grip her chin and plant a fierce kiss on her pouty lips would undoubtedly be too aggressive. I wanted to press my mouth against her neck and nibble my way tenderly up to her ear, but that couldn’t happen either. Not now, not ever.
This unbearable desire I felt to drag her into my arms and crush her to my body was my cue to leave.
“I thought that after last Tuesday you’d never want to see me again,” she said softly.
“You left the house without saying goodbye.”
“I was going to send your bathrobe back.”
I shook my head in frustration. “Are you alone?”
She placed her fisted hands on her hips. “Yes.”
“Stupid idea,” I muttered. “Anyone could wander in here.”
“I’m locked in.”
“Daisy, I walked in through the front door.”
Her pouty mouth turned up at the corners. I could plant a kiss right there on the side…
She was infuriating.
I pointed to her blanket in the corner. “Let me carry your things out.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Staying here all night is not a good idea.”
“I brought a picnic basket. Might as well make the most of it.”
I sighed.
Fading sunlight filtered in through the fogged windows and shimmered over her delicate features. I’d never been able to look at her without being drawn to her presence. I wanted to know her intimately.
“It’ll be dark soon. Let me give you a lift home.”
“I’m having fun.” She pointed to a flask by the basket. “Want a cuppa?”
She stubbornly returned to her tartan blanket and sat down on it, crossing her legs into a yoga pose and getting comfortable. She reached for a packet of biscuits and offered me one.
“I don’t have time.”
She gave me a cute smile and shook the packet insistently.
With a huff of annoyance, I stepped forward and accepted the biscuit, taking a quick bite.The taste of sugary cream melted over my tongue, mixing with the chocolate. If the English were good at something, it was baking biscuits.
“You’re not scared to be here all night?” I asked between bites.
