give you—I haven’t seen Rip in six years. So if you’re going to give me to him, do it. Do it now.”
“I will, as soon as you call him,” he said, calling her bluff.
“I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”
“But you’re going to play this out—and try to play me too? Like Esme would?”
“Don’t you talk about my mother,” she warned.
“Touchy subject? I’m betting you learned a hell of a lot from her.”
He knew. She forced herself to breathe, to tell herself that he didn’t know the whole truth. “I did.”
“Esme was able to con Powell—she must’ve been good.”
She had been—a grifter who’d perfected her fake psychic routine. She’d just happened to have a daughter whose gift was all too real. But Grace refused to do anything but nod.
Dare continued. “If all you’re looking for is danger and excitement, I can give that to you.”
“And I can give it right back to you,” she murmured as he moved toward her. This was what she was used to. This was how she’d kept herself alive without losing her mind. Giving up her body was easy—she’d learned that lesson the hard way.
“So what—you’re a poor little lost girl—mean no harm? Need to be rescued?” he asked.
She hated characterizing herself that way. “I haven’t needed rescuing in a long time. Haven’t asked for it.”
“Right. Because you can take care of yourself. Run with the big boys. Take down men with your fists just like Esme used her body.”
She hated that he was right.
“Poor little rich girl, looking for some action,” he continued. “Is that what this is all about? You left the Powell estate and you got bored, and so you decided to play the great avenger.”
“That’s not the way it happened.”
“You had my father and Adele fooled, right? Had them take you away, pretended you’d play their game, but you couldn’t resist the danger. I get it—some people are born drawn to it, like a moth to a flame, getting just close enough to feel the burn.”
She wondered if he was talking about himself now. He moved closer, and she stood quickly, the chair creaking backward.
“Now you’re scared? I would think this is exactly what you want.” His voice teased, and she hated that he was right. The flare of fear was exactly what she needed. What she craved.
He smiled, backed away a little, leaning against the counter. But his eyes still traveled her body again, and she took advantage of that. She shoved him against the counter, tugged at his belt purposely. He took her wrists, pulled them to her sides as she struggled.
The sex would be angry . . . maybe even a little vicious. It would be exactly the way she wanted it to be. She felt that thrill when he forced a rough hand in her hair and took her mouth with his. She wanted it that way because it would mean another victory. She would make him hers, take this over. Then it wouldn’t matter that he’d kidnapped her.
When he finally fucked her, she would win and nothing else would matter. The familiar pattern would hold, and that would mean she was all right, that nothing could touch her or hurt her.
She would remain unbreakable, although she was secretly broken inside, all taped together so the pieces wouldn’t rattle and give her away.
“Kiss me,” he demanded.
“I don’t follow your orders.”
“You’ll love it if you do—I can promise you that.”
Would she? Probably. And that bothered her more than anything else. She wanted the control—needed it.
But making Dare think he had it? That would put her head back in the game. “Fine.”
She went up on her tiptoes; he bent his head to meet her halfway. The kiss was the start of the battleground for both of them. It was beyond good. She knew it would be.
As he kissed her literally stupid, at some point he surrendered her wrists. She wound her hands into his hair to keep him close. In return, he pressed against her so she could feel the hard swell of his arousal.
The game wasn’t working. Or maybe it was—on her. Pleasure flowed like white-hot sunshine through her body. She’d be on fire soon if she didn’t douse her desires. Had to bring this to a manageable level for herself and didn’t see a way clear to doing so if she remained in Dare’s embrace.
But his hands, oh, his hands roamed her body like he was following a map—or creating one. He noticed every