Dare Me (6 page)

Deft fingers found the most hidden pin like the expert he was at finding her G-spot. After he unraveled the sections and unwound the rubber band holding the ponytail painfully in place, he massaged her scalp, behind her ears, at the temples. Before her eyes rolled back in bliss, she caught a glimpse of the tiny red light coming from the tripod.

She nudged him with an elbow. “I think you left the camera on.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Oh?” She resigned to the power of his hands as he pushed her belly-down on the bed.

“Let’s try this…”

She peeked over her shoulder, curious. “Try what?”

He flipped open the lid on the bottle of oil and shot a stream into his palm. Instead of beginning with her neck as she expected, he hooked a hand around her ankle and pressed his slippery fingers into the tender sole that suffered the brunt of her spiked heels.

She groaned in delight as he worked the magic on the entire foot, between each toe, concentrating on the arch and Achilles tendon before giving the same attention to the other foot.

All the while, as she enjoyed this healing treatment, she couldn’t take her mind off the incessant little red light. “Does it go off on its own?”

“Does what go off?”

“The camera.”

“What about it?”

“The light.”

“Forget about the camera.”

“I can’t. It’s aimed right at me.”

“Technically, it’s aimed at the bed in general.”

“You’re not photographing this are you? Is this your idea of glamour shots?”

“Nooo.” Adam shifted position, setting her feet outsides his knees, leaning over to rub the inside of her calves with equal pressure. “It’s recording video.”

“Video?” Misty jumped off the mattress, out of range of the lens. Overheated by his stealthy camera-play, she didn’t know whether to be enraged…or excited. “What do you mean
video
?”

“It takes stills and video. Cool, right?”

“You’re kidding.” She circled the tripod in search of the Off switch but it was positioned too high.

“Don’t you dare touch it.”

“You’re lucky I don’t break it.”

“I’ve been adjusting the tripod all night. How did you
not
know it was on?”

“I thought you were neurotic about your stuff. I didn’t know you were a pervert.”

“Pervert—why? ’Cause I want a keepsake of my night with most beautiful woman in the world?”

His words sounded too good to be true. If he were any other guy she’d be immune to the sweet talk, but this was Adam. She’d waited all her life for a moment in his arms.

“You should’ve told me.”

“You’re right. I should’ve.” He wiped his hands on his balled up undershirt before turning the camera off. “It’s not like I’m gonna do anything with it other than think of you when I watch it. Why else would I record it?”

Misty shrugged.

“I was really hoping you’d watch it with me one day.”

“I dunno.” Her cheeks got hot at the idea of watching herself in action with Adam. “It feels…wrong.”

“Here.” He handed her the bottle. “Drink some more champagne until it feels right.”

“There isn’t enough alcohol in the whole world to get me so drunk I’d say yes to making a sex video.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to freak out.” He stroked the strands of hair framing her face then planted a kiss on her forehead. “I didn’t do it to hurt you.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Did you at least enjoy it?”

“Of course.”

“Are you going to think about it when you go home?”

“Yes.”

“Well, now you can watch it and remember how good it felt.”

To avoid his soulful eyes, and so he couldn’t see the truth in hers, she buried her face in his chest, titillated by the idea of being his subject—like the girls under the bleachers in high school.

“But, I have to be honest with you.” His voice dropped an octave. “There’s another reason why recorded us.”

Misty took a step back, bracing herself for a low blow, like he was broadcasting it live or something equally disturbing.

“If, by some chance this was our only time together, at least I’d have the video to hold on to. The picture in my wallet is kinda faded.” He opened a panel on the camera and pulled out the memory card. “But if it bothers you, I’ll delete it.”

She shook her head. “You can put it back in the camera and turn it on.”

Adam gave her a sideways glance. “Really?”

She nodded and adjusted her long hair to cover her breasts, hiding what she could before slipping into his white dress shirt.

“Stop.” He raised his palm and she froze. “Would you mind if I take a few shots of you just like that?”

She agreed without hesitation, warming to the idea of getting what she’d wished for—being his muse. After the intimacy they already shared, there was no reason to feel self-conscious but she did.

“Sit in the chair.” He came around the tripod to pose her: draped her hair over one shoulder, crossed her legs, opened the shirt wide. His gaze latched onto her exposed breasts. “Such beauties should never be covered.”

“Wait.”

“No.” He filled his hands with her flesh. Massaged them. Caressed them with the gentle stroke of fingers across each tip, then tasted one while fondling the other. “I’ve waited long enough,” he murmured against her skin. “We both have.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut as she savored his sweet suckling. Weak knees parted as if her sex had a mind of its own and she wrapped her legs around him.

Damn, this sinful man, his magnificent mouth, his camera fetish
. She’d do anything for Adam Wright for more of this.

Adam pulled away only to catch his breath. But one glance at Misty’s satiated expression and he knew she was equally hooked on this lust.

“You look like a sleepy angel. I need a photo of this moment.”

With heavy lids and a drunken smile, she whispered, “Make it quick.”

Small talk drowned the noisy mirror click each time he snapped an image of Misty’s porcelain skin, pale eyes, and the waist-length curtain of ebony hair. An exquisite model for his lens.

“Before I did portraits, I spent years working with my uncle photographing landscapes all over the world,” he rambled. “I’ve never seen a landscape more beautiful than the curves of your body.”

“I need to stretch.” She arched her back with arms overhead.

“Go right ahead.” He followed her with the lens. “Just ignore the camera.”

“Remember that art teacher, Mrs. What’s-Her-Name? She’d only let us use a red crayon. Then the next week an orange crayon. Each week we were allowed only one color.” Misty reflected, sorting through the bottles of body paint from the gift basket. “It took forever to make a rainbow.” She snapped open the red and sniffed. “Mmm. Strawberry.”

“What’re ya gonna do with it?” Adam egged.

She shrugged. “I don’t wanna get it on your shirt.”

“Then take it off.”

With her smudgy, smoky eye makeup and the web of wild dark hair, she shot him with a cute dirty look over her shoulder. Snap. He captured an image that would make a steamy poster to hang on the ceiling above his bed. It was a good thing he didn’t try kissing her before the headshots because look at her now.

“Well? Whatcha waiting for? It’s not like I haven’t seen every inch of you. Why ya being so shy?”

“I can’t talk to you while you’re behind the camera.” She pouted. “Maybe if I had more champagne.”

“Be right back.”

When he returned with a fresh bottle from the mini-fridge, she was on the bed, naked, using her body as a canvas, swirling crimson circles between her thighs. Never mind still shots, he needed her on video.

This time, he asked permission. “Mind if I record you?”

She sat upon her colored knees, staining the ivory bedspread. “Only if you let me paint you.”

Adam shook his head and turned on the camera despite her stipulation.

“Why not?” She dribbled orange paint on her belly and rubbed it around. “It washes off.”

“I’d rather you paint you and I watch.”

“Pleeease.” She massaged green on one breast and blue on the other, making his fingers itch to touch her.

It took all his effort to stand his ground. “Come on, Misty.”

“I dare you to let me,” she teased with a crooked smile, drawing a line from her bottom lip down between her legs. “I double-dog dare ya.”

“You skipped over the double-dare.”

“If you wanna do that…” She nodded to the camera then shot fingers at him like a double gunslinger. “Then let me do this to you.”

Swaying in deliberation, he hid behind the lens. Although it seemed fun, he’d rather be an observer than a participant.

“Adam,” she cooed and patted the place beside her. “Come. Let the camera do the work. I want to play with you.”

Stroking his aching flesh, he recalled how warm and soft it had been inside her mouth and wanted to be there again—better yet buried deep between those luscious thighs painted like an upside-down rainbow. “I’m having fun watching you.”

“I’ll knock that tripod sideways if you don’t come here.” She flicked the paint in the air, splattering purple on the beige walls. It landed on the camera, fortunately missing the lens.

“What’s wrong with you?” He wiped away the sticky droplet.

Flat on her back, bent knees parted, she swirled the kaleidoscope of colors over every inch of skin. “Please, Adam. I need you now before I burst into flames.” Her fingers explored the place he yearned to be.

What red-blooded man could avoid such an offer? Certainly not this one.

Surrendering to her plea, he dove on the bed just as her cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. The glowing screen lit up with the caller’s identity.

“Who’s
Jeremy
?” There was no avoiding the jealous twinge, overcome by the skeptical tidal wave churning in his head.

“He works at the bridal shoppe.”

“Why’s he calling so late?”

“Who cares?” She twisted herself around him, grinding against his lap, making it difficult to want to do anything but ravage her, yet Adam couldn’t let it go.

“Do you think it’s a personal call? Or about business? Maybe you should check your messages.”

Ignoring his suggestion, she suckled his neck. Nibbled his lobe. Breathed hard in his ear.

It was tough to stay annoyed, but not impossible.

“Is he interested in you, as more than a co-worker, that he’d call you so late on Valentine’s Day? Is he, like, your boyfriend or something?”

Misty rolled off him. “Where is this coming from, Adam? I already told you I’m single. He probably wants to know how the event went today.”

Her excuse was viable, but he wanted assurance it wasn’t something more. He dared to ask the brooding question based on the data trapped in his head. “It seems, I dunno, strange to me that he wouldn’t wait until you’re at
work
to ask about
work
. Why call you so late on Valentine’s Day? What if you had plans?”

“He knew I didn’t have plans. Why would I have plans? I’m not with anyone. Running into you today was pure luck. Please don’t let a phone call ruin the moment.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

Her silence was all the confirmation he needed.

“Sooo…is Jeremy the ex? Or the brother?”

“The brother.” She frowned. “Glen is the ex.”

“I see.” Adam nodded, wrapping his mind around the scenario, which only prompted more delving questions. “How long ago did you and Glen split up?”

Misty sighed and rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if struggling to calculate Pi to the precise decimal. “Six months or so.”

“When did you sleep with his brother?”

“About five months ago—geez, Adam, I’m not hiding anything from you. If you were so curious you should have asked these questions while we were on the subject.”

“And in five months you haven’t gotten the inkling that, maybe, Jeremy was interested in being more than a rebound?”

Misty shrugged. “Does it really matter?”

“It might. Did it cross your mind to date him? Ever?”

“He’s a nice guy, but, no, I could never—for a variety of reasons.”

Adam wanted to hear every single one. “Like?”

“He’s my ex’s brother. And he works for my family. I would never mix business and pleasure. And even if it weren’t the case, I don’t have any special feelings for him.”

“Does he know this?”

“Yes. I’ve made it clear we would never be anything more than a one-time thing. We were both going through break-ups and were in the same place, at the same time. It just…happened. Then it was over—no plans, no promises.”

As good as her reasoning sounded, it still irked him. Her past love life wasn’t the sort of pillow talk he needed and, like his ego, his hard-on deflated. He swung his feet to the floor. Debated putting on pants and heading to the lobby to get some distance between them and this conversation.

Maybe locking himself in the bathroom for a few private minutes would clear his mind. Take a piping hot shower. Or stick his head in this sink and let the cold-water run. He needed to gather his wits before he could get back into the groove of making love to this woman who seemed so desperate to have him.

“Adam… Don’t go. Please.”

The soft singsong in her plea made his shaft twitch with new life, proving his pride wasn’t damaged beyond repair.

“I’ll be back.” He padded out of the bedroom, grabbing an open champagne bottle from the dresser. A swig wasn’t enough. Hell, the bottle wasn’t enough of a mind eraser, but it would do for now.

He downed it on the way to the bathroom, cursing himself for letting his jealous streak get the best of him and possibly ruin a great thing with Misty. She didn’t do anything wrong, so there was nothing to forgive. Like everybody else, she had a past. So why did he feel so angry?

The faint knock on the door jolted him.

“Adam? May I come in?”

With the top-sheet wrapped around her toga-style, Misty pressed her palm to the door and it swung with ease. She would have put on her dress but she was sticky from the sweet paints. After a quick shower, or at least a swipe of a wet washcloth, she’d be on her way if he wanted her to go.