Brave Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #3)(7)

“Would you like to set the table? Everything will be ready in just a few minutes and then it will be your turn,” Tag declares.

“My turn for what?”

“To tell me all your secrets,” he says, his voice dropping down to a sexy whisper. And that’s all it takes to shift the mood back to one of attraction that simmers as hotly as the red sauce bubbling on the stove.

“What makes you think I have secrets?” I ask, collecting plates from the cabinet so that I can avoid meeting his eye.

“Everybody has secrets.”

“Then what makes you think I’d tell them?”

I feel the heat of his mouth at my ear as Tag leans into me from behind. “What makes you think you have a choice?”

When I turn to look at him, he’s disappearing into the pantry, leaving me wondering if I have a damn clue what I’m getting myself into. Or if I even care.





FOUR


Tag

I hold Weatherly’s chair as she slides into it. I hesitate to push it in because the enticing glimpse of her mile-long legs will be hidden from my view. I console myself with the thought that I’ll get to see them again soon. With nothing covering them. With nothing covering her.

She smiles politely as I plate her spaghetti and offer her a piece of bread. Her eyes follow me as I pour her a glass of red, per her request, and then pour some for myself. I love that she’s not one of those women who pretends she’s not attracted when she sure as hell is. Something about the way she plays, even though I can tell it’s not necessarily her nature, makes me think she could match me in passion. Honest, no-strings-attached, down-and-dirty passion.

“So, where would you like to start?” I ask, loving the way her eyes widen the tiniest bit with her discomfort.

She takes a sip of wine and then clears her throat before she responds. Very deliberate. I’m sure she was taught to think carefully before she speaks. I’ll break her of that if she’ll give me the chance. I want her to speak her mind, to tell me every erotic thought that passes through it, without even pausing. I don’t know why I want so much to see her inhibitions die, but I do.

“What would you like to know?”

I arch one brow. “What I’d like to know and what you’re willing to tell me are two very different things, I imagine.”

“Then what do you think I’m willing to tell you?”

I can’t help grinning. “So cautious. I’d love to see you let go. Do you think you might consider doing that, maybe just a little, while you’re here?”

“I’m already letting go.”

“How so?”

“My parents would disown me if they saw me dressed this way.”

“And what’s wrong with the way you’re dressed?” I lean back, using this as an excuse to openly peruse her body. She’s got an amazing build. Her round, high tits press into the purple knit material of her dainty top and her narrow hips and long legs are only hinted at in the thin, flowing black skirt with slits all the way up the sides. It would be so, so easy to push that fabric up, to press my lips to the top of her thigh . . .

My cock jumps eagerly.

Jesus! I have to quit thinking about that shit at the dinner table.

“This isn’t appropriate for an O’Neal,” she says mockingly in a deep, chastising voice, her eyes cast down as she looks into the bottom of her wineglass.

“Ohhh, I see. So, for you, dressing like a regular person is letting go?”

She shrugs. “Sort of.”

“Not much of a rebel, are you?” I tease.

“Until now? No.”

“And what makes you a rebel now, besides the clothes? And having dinner with an incorrigible rake?”

She grins and it brings out a dimple right near her mouth. Makes me want to stick my tongue in it. “An incorrigible rake? An incorrigible rake? Do you read historical romances or something?”

“Maybe one or two.”

“Are you joking?”

“Why so shocked? What better way for a guy to become acquainted with the thoughts and desires of a woman? Especially when said guy is a horny teenager. With a mom who has a stockpile of those paperbacks.”

“So that’s your trick?”

“No trick.”

“You think it worked?”

“I could say you tell me, but a decent man would never say such a thing, now would he?”

“Oh, surely not,” she replies, the edges of her lips twitching.

I smile. Damn, she’s fun.

I clear my throat and try to redirect my mind from its current dissection of what it would be like to undress her right now, lay her up on the table and devour every inch of her creamy flesh. “So, beautiful, rebellious Weatherly, how long will you be staying with us?”

“As long as it takes.”

Fun and interesting. “As long as it takes for what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually. Very much.”

“And why is that? Why so interested?”

“Because you interest me. A lot.”

“Why?”

“Because you ask a lot of questions.”

“Is that all?”

“Oh, God no! Everything about you interests me.”