She rested her head back against his chest, filling with a new type of happiness she’d never felt before. You love me.
But they’d wasted so much time. She’d wasted so much time. She’d hurt Dare all those years ago, and she’d hurt Eddie by loving Dare. More guilt piled onto her already confused heart.
It was all too much. She needed space to breathe and think.
She tried to slip out from beneath his arm, but he tightened his hold on her. His scruff brushed her cheek, sending tantalizing sensations skittering along her flesh. Her neediest parts clenched with anticipation. Down, girl.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked huskily, sleepily, and all too sexily.
Straight to hell for being a hoochie mama. She glanced at the clock. It was only 4:03. Where did he think she was going? “To the bathroom.”
He kissed her neck, grinding against her butt. “Mm. Come back and get some rest. You need to power up. I’m not nearly done with you.”
Her heart skipped and her body cheered, but she tried to rein that in as he lifted his arm and rolled onto his back. She hurried into the bathroom, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she closed the door. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes were puffy, and she had bite marks on the swell of her breast and at the base of her neck. Why, oh why, did that get her all revved up? She tried to remember where her clothes were, and her eyes flew open wider. The garage. Nonono. One night with Dare and I let him spread me out like a buffet on the hood of his car. She never did things like that, either.
Then again, she’d never been with someone like Dare, who made her feel as animalistic as he was. She clenched her mouth shut. Dare hadn’t just brought out the risk seeker in her. His magic tongue had scrambled her senses!
She leaned her palms on the sink, glaring at herself in the mirror, whispering, “What is wrong with you?” Apparently everything, because the sex kitten on her shoulder was purring, But it felt so good, while the guilt-laden girl rooted in her brain was chastising her for sleeping with Dare. She used the toilet and washed her hands, eyes trained on the sink because she was unable to look at herself for another second.
She opened the door as quietly as she could and found Dare fast asleep on his back. One beautifully sculpted, tattooed arm rested on his forehead, his other lay across the side of the bed where she’d slept, as if he were waiting for her. She knew he was, and that set those butterflies free again. Moonlight shimmered across his tatted neck and broad chest. Her gaze slid lower, and heat flared in her chest with the memory of how good it had felt to kiss her way down those rippled abs and trace the ink flanking them with her tongue to that wickedness tenting the sheets. The man was a master at loving her body. She’d never come so hard or so many times in her life. The urge to climb across the bed and ride him like a bronco was stronger than her need to breathe. But if one night with Dare swamped her with this much emotion, staying would only lead to trouble. He’d gone from being a tsunami who bullied her into his waves to sneaking up like a quiet storm, lulling her in with gentler winds, effortlessly gaining force until she was so wrapped up in him, she could think of nothing else.
She didn’t move, taking one last look at his handsome face and the lips she wanted to kiss forever. The energy in the room shifted from trepidation and guilt to longing for what she hoped might be one day.
But today wasn’t that day, because this new Dare, with all his goodness, was even more dangerous than the one she’d known by heart. This Dare liked to talk, and she knew he’d want to delve deeper into their confessions.
There was only so much guilt and confusion a woman could take.
I’m sorry, Dare.
She tiptoed over to his shirt, which dangled from a lampshade on the dresser where he’d tossed it during his delicious striptease. As she slipped it on, she noticed a picture on the other side of the dresser of her, Dare, and Eddie when they were kids. It was taken from behind, and they were sitting on a fence watching horses. Eddie was to her left, and Dare was to her right. She was wearing Dare’s cowboy hat, and his arm was around her. Her hands were on the fence, and Eddie’s hand covered one of hers. DAREDEVILS was scrawled across the sky in kidlike writing. Dare must have written it when they were young. A lump lodged in her throat.
Dare turned onto his side, reminding her of her escape. She dropped to the floor and crawled over to his shorts, quietly digging his key ring out of his pocket, then tiptoed out of the bedroom. She gave the living room a cursory glance. Gone was the cheap furniture he’d used right after college, replaced with leather couches, wooden bookshelves, and rustic coffee and end tables. It was very masculine. Very Dare. She slipped out the door and ran into the garage for her shoes and clothes. She pulled on her shorts and carried the rest to his truck, wincing as she started it up, hoping not to wake him, because that was another conversation she didn’t want to have.
As she drove away from his cabin, she looked out at the pastures, remembering all the times the three of them had sat on the fences talking about their next big thrill, what they were doing that weekend, or what they’d be when they grew up. She was going to be the best female motocross racer the world had ever seen, Eddie was going to be a visionary filmmaker, and Dare had always wanted to work with the people who came through the ranch therapeutic programs. Well, that and defy death more times than Evel Knievel.
That was another thing she needed to figure out. Dare would always be an extreme thrill seeker. Could she be with someone who tempted fate every chance he got?
DARE FELT LIKE he’d been asleep for a month. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so hard. Smiling at the reason, he opened his eyes to see his beautiful girl. Billie wasn’t lying next to him. He rolled over to look at the bathroom, but the door was open and the light was off. He climbed out of bed and stretched as he headed out of the bedroom. His gaze moved over the empty living room, dining room, and kitchen.
What the hell, Mancini?
He opened the front door to see if she was on the porch. His truck was gone. Fuck. “My truck? Really?”
This was not what he’d expected.
He stalked inside, realizing he should have expected it. Billie had never liked talking about her feelings, and between all the things they’d admitted yesterday and their amazing sexcapades, she was probably halfway to…
He gritted out a curse and strode into the bathroom to shower. He had no idea where she went when she was mad anymore. Well, hell, that pissed him off.
Twenty minutes later he pulled up in front of the main house and climbed off his motorcycle, chewing on his anger. Fuck. It wasn’t just anger. It was hurt, disappointment, and a whole bunch of other shit he didn’t want to think about.
He blew through the front doors, thankful that Kenny was starting his regular schedule today, working with Cowboy after breakfast and meeting with Dare later in the afternoon.
His father was sitting at the table with Sasha, Doc, Cowboy, Simone, Kenny—who was eating breakfast this time, thankfully—Hyde, Ezra, a number of other ranch hands, and the men and women who were currently going through the program.
Cowboy and their mother walked in from the kitchen. His mother was carrying a basket of biscuits, and Dare snagged one.
“Mornin’,” he grumbled.
“Look who the cat dragged in.” Cowboy lifted his chin in Dare’s direction. “Who’d you piss off?”