What happens when an innocent dare turns naughty? Find out in this scorchingly hot new story from USA TODAY bestselling author Cara Lockwood…

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Allie Connors should know better. The last time she kissed adrenaline junkie Liam Beck, the result was a no-holds-barred, hottest-of-the-hot shag-a-thon—followed by the fastest disappearing act ever. Now the mouthwatering, hard-bodied sex god is standing in front of her, daring Allie to kiss him. And, oh, how she wants to…

Allie knows that one kiss with Liam Beck is practically a gateway sex drug. One kiss will send her tumbling headfirst back into lust and, worse, remind her that she is absolutely, completely, undeniably in love with the biggest commitmentphobe in the world.

But now a sexy little game of dare has turned Allie from a steady, believes-in-true-love accountant into a woman who asks for what she wants, and to hell with the consequences. It’s everything Beck ever wanted: hot, dirty, thoroughly satisfying sex. No strings. No hearts. And Allie is the one in control.

But with every dare, Allie is slipping down a dangerous slope. Because while Beck might be playing for a little wicked fun, Allie might just be playing for keeps…

Mills & Boon DARE publishes sexy romances featuring powerful alpha heroes and bold, fearless heroines exploring their deepest fantasies.

Four new Mills & Boon DARE titles are available each month, wherever ebooks are sold!

CARA LOCKWOOD is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more than twenty-five books, including I Do (But I Don’t), which was made into a Lifetime Original movie. She’s written the Bard Academy series for young adults and has had her work translated into several languages around the world. Born and raised in Dallas, Cara now lives near Chicago with her husband and their five children. Find out more about her at caralockwood.com, friend her on Facebook, Facebook.com/authorcaralockwood, or follow her on Twitter, @caralockwood.

Also by Cara Lockwood

No Strings

Look at Me

First Class Sin

Hot Mistake

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Double Dare You

Cara Lockwood

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08720-9

DOUBLE DARE YOU

© 2019 Cara Lockwood

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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For PJ, the stars and moon in my sky.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

HIS LIPS CLAIMED hers and, in that moment, her entire body came alive. The rumors about this sex god were true, beyond true, she realized as he pulled her into his arms, flat against his muscled chest, and the world outside faded away. Nothing existed but their bodies before the woodstove in this small lodge on the top of a remote peak in the Rocky Mountains. He tasted like pure animal magnetism, pure white-hot desire, everything she’d ever wanted and more she hadn’t dreamed of. Her clothes came off. Before she knew it, she was naked, and then it was electric skin against skin. She could almost feel the pulse of his need against her belly. She didn’t know where her heat began and his ended, and she didn’t care to draw boundaries. She wanted them all gone. God, how she’d fantasized about this moment, with this man, and how she’d never believed it could ever happen, not in a million years. He had his pick of women in Aspen, but now, finally—and at long last—it would be her turn.

The blizzard howled outside the wood lodge, a mournful call she felt in her chest, mirroring her own desperate need. She’d wanted him since she first laid eyes on him but had been so long denied. She’d pined in silence for months, even years. She’d yearned for this since she first fell in love with him, only she’d been in hell ever since. She’d been slowly chipping away at that friendship line, and now, finally, she’d gotten him to cross. She knew she was risking everything, his very friendship, and yet she didn’t care. Her need for him was just too great, her want burned in her hotter than the crackling wood in the stove. She couldn’t have stopped herself any more than she could stop the snow battering the windows outside. This might be her only chance, and she’d take it, her head buzzing with wine. She understood the dangers here, knew she was playing with fire. He didn’t do relationships, didn’t do love. He’d break her heart if she let him. This man wouldn’t settle down with anyone, wouldn’t be tamed, but that was why she wanted him so badly, she realized. She wanted to stand in the wind and howl, she wanted to consume some of his wildness and feel it run riot inside her. She wanted to be obliterated, completely, and then put back together again. She wanted him, the chaos he brought, and she wanted to ride it until she couldn’t ride anymore.

He laid her down on the bearskin rug, its fur surprisingly soft against her bare back. She soaked in all the details, because she’d want to remember this, now and always. She didn’t care about tomorrow. She only cared about right now, this man she’d stupidly fallen in love with. The man who might never love her back, but she didn’t care. She’d have his body even if she couldn’t have his heart.

CHAPTER ONE

Two months later

WHAT WAS HE doing here?

Allie Connor froze at the bar, her ruby-red cranberry vodka in the martini glass stopped halfway to her mouth. Liam Beck, looking too damn fine for words, eased through the crowd at the Aspen lodge, seeming like he already owned it in his ruffled-blond, leather-jacket glory, with more than a hint of stubble that said he only marginally cared what anyone thought about his shaving habits. He looked just as cocky as ever, and ridiculously fit, chiseled from free rock climbing, river rafting, snowboarding or whatever extreme thing he could think of to do to his body lately. What crazy-ass thing was he doing now? Bungee jumping without a bungee cord? Free-climbing up cliffs? Jumping into ponds of alligators?

When it came to Liam Beck, anything was possible. And whatever crazy risk he was taking suited him. He looked good enough to eat.

Not that Allie was falling for it. Not this time. Stay in your lane, she told herself. This all happened because you didn’t stay in your lane. She needed a straitlaced nice guy who regularly contributed to his 401(k). Not somebody who liked to hurl his body off snow-covered cliffs with nothing but a snowboard and his wits to save him.

“Trouble, two o’clock,” Allie murmured, pushing up her round, nearly clear-framed glasses, careful not to gaze directly in Liam’s direction again, lest he see her. She half turned, keeping him in her peripheral sights. Some upbeat, too-bright Christmas song floated through the crowd. Behind her sat a roaring fire in a stone fireplace, circled with small pub tables, and to her left a giant bar made of reclaimed wood, old antique iron fixtures hanging from the ceiling giving the pub a modern take on the gold rush times. Allie tried not to think that two months ago she’d had the misfortune of tumbling into Beck’s bed. Or, actually, the tremendous fortune. He’d been—bar none—the best sex she’d ever had in her life.

And then he’d not called her after that weekend. Or texted. Or acknowledged her at all. She might have thought he’d had a horrible skiing accident, except for the pictures of him plastered across social media smiling with a parade of pretty tourists. She’d expected more from the man who’d claimed to be her friend before they’d taken their clothes off. But deep down, she knew she had only herself to blame. She tangled with something wild. Was it a wonder it came back to bite her?

“What the hell?” Allie’s best friend, Mira, frowned as she first saw Beck clap a friend on the back. Beck was six-three and impossible to miss in a crowd, his tawny blond hair and perpetual tan from practically living outside in summer and winter standing out like a beacon. Somehow, he was moving closer. She felt that familiar pull in her chest, as if he’d buried a beacon for himself there, one that lit up only in his presence. Why couldn’t she even stay mad at him? It hardly seemed fair.

“I definitely did not invite him. You know I didn’t.”

“Someone did.” Allie suspected that someone might be Channing, Mira’s roommate, who happened to be secretly hoping for a hookup with one of Aspen’s most famous bachelors. Good luck with that, she thought, as she saw the sleek blonde light up from across the room and squeal Beck’s name. Then again, since when did Beck ever need an invitation anywhere? He was used to showing up to adoration wherever he went. Allie did not have time for this. She sucked another deep drink of her nearly full cocktail and thought about bolting. Was sticking around for a round of free holiday drinks at the resort worth it?

“Maybe I should go.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she felt like a coward. She should be able to be in the same room with him, after all. She’d known what she was getting into that weekend, but she hadn’t cared. That was her mistake.

“Do not let that X Games junkie scare you away from my party.” Mira’s dark eyes flashed with fire. Technically, it was Mira’s boss’s party, the man who owned the upscale Aspen resort, Enclave, where Mira worked as an events coordinator. But Mira had planned and organized the party for Enclave’s various employees. She was running the show tonight. Mira had made sure to add Allie as her plus-one, to take advantage of the holiday party and the free drinks. Allie self-consciously patted her loose bun, finding an errant strand of auburn hair had fallen loose at her temple. She tucked it behind her ear and wondered if Beck would notice the new bright red highlights in her auburn hair, and then hated herself for wondering. I don’t care what he thinks. “You are not moving to Denver because of him, okay?”

Allie was considering a job offer in Denver, one that would take her three hours away by car. An old college friend had reached out on LinkedIn, and the accounting firm had a new position opening in the New Year. She would’ve turned the job down flat two months ago, but since then, she’d started to think maybe a change of scenery would do her good. Maybe getting away from Beck’s gravitational pull would help her heal.

“I haven’t decided about that job yet. I’ve got time. They don’t need the position filled until after the New Year.”

“Don’t let him scare you off,” Mira added.

“I’m not scared,” she hedged. She wasn’t frightened of Beck, exactly. It was more the case that she was scared of herself around him. Of what she might do. Of how she might feel. She hated that, even now, her body responded to the fact that he was in the same room, breathing the same air. As she watched his big shoulders part the crowd, her stomach instantly wound itself into a Gordian knot. Despite the fact that a throng of people blocked him from her, she could still track almost every movement he made, no matter how small. She hated that her whole body seemed tuned to his frequency, a channel she couldn’t seem to change no matter how hard she tried.

Remember what it was like, she told herself, waiting for him to call the morning after. And then the week after, and then the month after. Remember the stupid messages she left, the rambling ones, trying to be cool, but failing miserably. Remember how she spent hours combing over every delicious position she’d shared with him in bed, and then worried that, somehow, she’d come up lacking. And then pretending none of it mattered at all, when, truly, she was horribly heartbroken. Knowing it was all her fault. She knew what Beck was. Local ski and sex god. Gods didn’t wind up with mere mortals like her.

“I just don’t want the hassle.” Allie wished she could be one of those immensely mature adults, the ones who could stay friends with hookups or exes, but Liam wasn’t the kind of man any woman could just be friends with. He exuded pure sexual energy. There literally was no friend zone with him and that was his whole problem. Even when they were “just” friends, she’d harbored a secret crush on the man. She saw, from the corner of her eye, that he’d been cornered by Channing. Good. Let Channing realize she was playing a dangerous game with a man who lived his life with no rules at all. Despite Allie’s better instincts, curiosity got the better of her and she found herself turning toward the couple, and staring directly into Liam’s ice-blue eyes.

Dammit.

Now he’d seen her.

A slow smile crossed his face, amused and almost a little…dangerous. The man knew his own power, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

Look away, Allie, for God’s sake. But then she glanced away too quickly, like a rabbit who’d locked eyes with a wolf. Now he’d know he rattled her. She fiddled with the frames of her new glasses, self-conscious.

“Brace yourself. He’s coming over here,” Mira warned as she sipped at her glass of white wine.

“God, no.” The last person on earth she wanted to talk to was Liam Beck. Yet her body vibrated with the excitement of doing just that. Her body, ever her mind’s betrayer. They had never been on the same page as far as Beck was concerned, and might never be.

“Al?” he said, and she felt his baritone in the pit of her stomach, a vibration that tingled all the way down to the crease between her legs. She almost flinched a bit at the sound of her nickname. He’d called her that warmly when they’d been friends, but it took on a new meaning when he’d whispered it in her ear that weekend they’d spent together, naked on the floor of his wood lodge, tangled up on the bearskin rug, the thick wool throw on top of them. The memory of his taut skin against hers, his strong hands on her body, made heat flush her cheeks.

“Get lost, Beck.” Mira narrowed her eyes at him, flicking her black hair over her shoulder. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Allie cringed. Mira’s full-throated defense made her sound like she cared. She didn’t. Not in the least. Her body might, but she told herself that was just pure animal instinct. Lust, really. What straight woman didn’t lust after Liam Beck? But human beings were made of higher stuff than just base instinct, thankfully. Allie shot her friend a glance, but Mira was focused on Beck, her head tilted up, her shoulders squared. Not that the five-foot-three, part-Asian former marathon runner could do much against him, but the warning look in her eyes told Allie she’d try if she needed to.

“Is that so?” A grin split Beck’s face, as if he was mulling over a joke at her expense. He probably was. Could he see the blush? Would he know he caused it? Of course he would. He thought everything was about him. She glanced upward at his perfectly chiseled features, reminded again that he was one of the few men so much taller than her. At five-ten, she never felt tiny. Except around Beck.

“I don’t really care, actually.” Allie congratulated herself on sounding pretty even-keeled. Bored, even. She sipped her drink and deliberately looked away from Beck, using all of her willpower to drag her attention away from those powerful blue eyes. She could still feel him studying her, the attention feeling like the heat of the summer sun on her face. What did he think of her hair? Worn up in a loose, messy bun? Or her new glasses? Did he notice that she’d lost ten pounds since that ominous weekend? She knew it was silly to be so affected by two days at a lodge, but there it was. After Beck cut her from his life, Allie had trouble choking down food. She had trouble sleeping. She had trouble doing everything. But day by day, week by week, she’d gotten better.

“New glasses?” he asked her. He’d noticed. That was something.

“Yeah,” she said and nodded.

“I like them.” She beamed in the compliment and then mentally berated herself. Why did she care if he liked her glasses? His gaze flicked downward, slowly, taking in her tight cashmere sweater and skinny jeans, paired with a sky-high pair of stiletto boots. Impractical for the Aspen weather, but necessary for navigating the single scene. “You look…thin, Al.”

She heard the note of concern in his voice. As if he had a right to be concerned. Aspen was a small place, and so avoiding her for the last two months took some doing. He’d been almost surgical in his precision. So it was clear that he’d done it on purpose. So why did he care how she was now? She glanced up at him and wished she hadn’t. A little worry line etched his forehead, marring his otherwise perfect skin. He almost looked as if he truly cared. That, she knew, would be her undoing. “You doing okay?”

The air felt suddenly thin then, and she knew it had nothing to do with the altitude, even though they were perched probably somewhere around 8,000 feet high in the Rocky Mountains. She’d lived in Aspen for years, and the altitude never got to her. Her sudden light-headedness had everything to do with Beck.

“Al?” he prodded, and Allie realized she’d not answered his question. She was busy just staring at him like a fool. Her baser instincts had taken over, clearly, her body in control. But her brain wasn’t going to tolerate it for long. It hummed the truth: it was none of his damn business how she was doing. He hadn’t cared two months ago, so why should he now? He was the one who’d run away. She wanted to ask why, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“I’m fine.” There was an edge to her voice, one she hadn’t intended. Unable to handle the weight of his gaze any longer, she looked away. She tried to find something—someone—more interesting at the bar but failed. Even the moderately cute-ish bartender with the floppy brown hair and the lopsided grin who kept sending looks her way suddenly paled in comparison to Beck. His massive shoulders, the easy way he held the beer he was drinking, the bottle looking small in his huge hands, like a doll’s plaything. She looked at the bartender, even though all of her other senses were completely focused on Beck, standing less than two feet from her. She could almost feel his body heat through the T-shirt he wore beneath his worn leather bomber jacket. His defined pecs begging to be stroked beneath the thin cotton fabric. Why did he have to look so damn…delectable? She suddenly hated Beck and his stupid muscles and the caring look on his face. His just-rolled-out-of-some-model’s-bed sex appeal. Remember, he probably did. That musky, manly scent coming from him was probably just stale sex.

The thought jolted her to the present. He was a walking rabbit hole. One step too close and she’d fall in again.

“Beck!” squealed Channing, as the tiny blonde bounced up to the three of them and locked her arm inside his. She was wearing a ridiculous Santa hat and a red corset top that she was practically spilling out of and too-thick false eyelashes that made it look like spiders were crawling across her eyelids. Trying too hard, Allie thought. She knew Beck well enough to know he hated that. One of his biggest turnoffs. Channing didn’t even acknowledge Allie or Mira, choosing instead to tug her prize away from them. “You have to meet my boss. She’s right over there. She’s the one I told you about. The one who books tours.”

At the sound of possible new business, Beck’s interest diverted from Allie to Channing. Not that he needed new business. His extreme mountain tours and heli-skiing excursions were the best in Aspen. Everyone knew that. At the height of tourist season, he had to turn away customers. Everybody wanted to go on a ski expedition with the two-time silver medal Olympic champion. Few people seemed to care if he had a death wish, always pushing things a bit harder, a bit farther than he should. Channing glanced at Allie. “Don’t waste time here. Come on.” Before she left, she turned and murmured “Greenie” beneath her breath. Allie wasn’t even sure she’d heard right. Greenie? What the hell did that mean?

Channing pulled Beck through the crowd, and he went, casting one more look over his shoulder. Concern once more on his face. Don’t fall for it, she told herself. He’s not really worried. It’s all just part of the game.

“Good riddance,” Mira almost spit, glaring at his retreating figure.

“What does ‘Greenie’ mean?” Allie asked Mira, who glanced at her, suddenly looking guilty.

“Nothing,” Mira said, but she bit her lip, a telltale sign she was lying. Allie had known Mira for years, and she was one of the first people she’d met in Aspen.

“You know what it means.”

Mira hesitated. “Well…”

“Spit it out.” Now Allie was beginning to be frustrated. It had to be bad, because Mira was stalling. The strand of hair popped loose from Allie’s ear, and she twirled it around her finger. Suddenly, she felt anxious.

“Well…look, I saw somebody’s Snap about you. It was one of Beck’s…friends.” She said it with disdain, so Allie knew she meant one of the many women rotating through his bedroom. “I guess…well, I guess someone—I don’t even know who, actually—gave you a nickname.” Mira took a deep breath. “Greenie, as in a green run.”

“What does a bunny hill have to do with me? I’m a decent skier.” She wasn’t an Olympic champion, but she was a black-diamond skier. She’d been skiing for years and thought she was pretty good.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with skiing,” Mira said. “They mean that you play it safe.”

She was an accountant born in a family of non-risk-taking accountants. Of course she played it safe. The only risky thing her parents ever did was occasionally go about two miles over the speed limit. Her parents had raised her to be afraid of almost everything: strangers, trampolines, drugs, driving too fast in the rain, and the list went on and on.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Allie challenged.

“Well, nothing—except when you’re in bed.”

“Wait… You mean…”

Mira gave her a knowing look and the full realization hit Allie. Beck thought she was boring in life and in bed. Plain Jane. Greenie? The unfairness of it felt like a slap. She was not boring in bed, at least she didn’t think she was with Beck. In that damn lodge, she’d done things with him that she’d never done with anyone else. But maybe Beck’s pulse had barely ticked up a notch. Oh, God. Maybe that was why she’d never heard from him again. Maybe…she’d bored him so much he ran away.

She felt a deep, stinging embarrassment, and heat rushed through her from her nose to the roots of her hair. Had he measured her against the dozens and dozens of other women he’d taken to his bed and found her wanting? Had the best sex in her life…turned out to be the worst for him? She felt a hard, slick pit at the bottom of her stomach, an oily nauseating mess. She suddenly badly wanted the floor of the bar to open up and swallow her whole.

“But you’re not. You know that, right? You are not boring.” Mira was babbling now, trying to comfort Allie in a rush. “You’re badass awesome, and if he can’t see that, then screw him. Who cares what he thinks or anybody else thinks? I know you’re amazing and fun, and if he doesn’t, that’s his loss. You are one of the most exciting and dynamic people I know. If he can’t see that, then he’s blind.”

“I can’t believe he thinks I’m boring.” She felt…crushed. Completely and utterly crushed. She wanted to run home—immediately. Or she needed to drink. Literally everything in this bar. She grabbed her cocktail and took a huge gulp.

“On the bright side, do you know how many women in Aspen would kill to get a nickname from Liam Beck? Even a bad one?” Mira was just grasping at desperate jokes, trying to make her feel better, but Allie felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. At the very least, she’d thought Beck had been…her friend. Friends didn’t treat friends like this. It felt like one more betrayal. “Oh, geez. I’m making this worse.” Mira shook her head. “Look, do not let him into your head like this. This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Who cares what he or any of his loser groupies say?”

Allie did. She wished she didn’t, but she did. It was that simple. The worst part was that, deep down, she didn’t believe it was true. She’d seen Beck’s face when he’d come; she’d looked right into the man’s eyes. He didn’t look bored. He looked…electric, enthralled, completely and utterly focused on her. And would a bored man have gone back for seconds…thirds…and fourths? It seemed like his frantic want had matched hers, that he’d needed it as much as she had.

But maybe she’d read him all wrong.

After all, he hadn’t called her. On the contrary, he’d deliberately avoided her. And now…that damn nickname. Greenie. She wasn’t timid or boring or any of those things. She might be an accountant raised by helicopter parents, but she wasn’t a mouse. She glanced over at Beck and saw him throw back his head and laugh, his teeth almost too white against his tanned face. Maybe he and Channing were laughing at her right now.

“I think I should go.” Allie didn’t want to run scared, but she also didn’t want to be in a room anymore with Liam Beck.

“Stop that right now,” Mira commanded and snapped her fingers near Allie’s face. Once more, her attention was on her best friend. “Don’t let him ruin your night. You hear me?”

“He can’t ruin my night,” Allie said. “Not if I don’t let him.”

“That’s my girl,” Mira said, her dark eyes fierce. She glanced over at the bartender, and her face lit up. “Why not get your mind off Liam Beck. I know!”

“What?”

“Go kiss that bartender.” Mira nodded over at the floppy-haired server who had a silver martini shaker high above his head. He was no Beck, but he was cute. Kind of. In a slightly-out-of-shape, cuddly way. But, on the bright side, he probably wasn’t the type to go free-climbing up one of the highest peaks in the Rockies, without even the thought of a harness. The bartender was one hundred percent nonthreatening. Not like Beck, whose flick of a single eyebrow offered a whole menu of dangerous options. The bartender did have kind eyes, and Allie liked the flannel shirt he wore. He seemed nice. Maybe after Beck, nice was what she needed. Though, her body rebelled at the thought. Her body didn’t want nice.

“I couldn’t,” she said, laughing self-consciously.

“Why not? I bet he won’t think you’re boring. Because you’re not. You will knock his socks off.”

“No, I won’t!” Allie laughed.

“I dare you.” Mira’s red lips slipped into a devious grin. “I double dare you.”

“Mira. Come on. We’re not in third grade.” She didn’t need to prove anything. She knew who she was. But she also knew that the one weekend she’d spent with Beck had kept her head spinning for two months straight. Nothing quite seemed normal.

“No, and hold that thought—my boss wants something.” Mira nodded over to a dark-haired man in his forties who was signaling her. “Probably wants to make sure we have extra bottles of his favorite champagne. I’ll be right back. Meantime… Get on that bartender, would you?”

Allie was tempted. She glanced over at Channing, who was practically rubbing herself on Beck like a cat.

Why the hell not? How did she even know if she didn’t like “nice” until she tried it? Maybe the cure for Beck was to hop into bed with his exact opposite. And she was no coward. She wasn’t going to let Beck run her out of the bar. That would mean he won.

“Well, then.” Allie took a deep breath and slipped off her new glasses, putting them in her pocket. “Looks like I’m going to do this.”

“Atta girl,” Mira called over her shoulder.

CHAPTER TWO

BECK SAW ALLIE move from the corner of his eye. He was only half listening to Channing. She loved talking about herself, and while she found the subject endlessly fascinating, Beck most certainly did not. He wanted to head right back to Allie. She looked tired. Worn down. Had he done this? Guilt pricked the back of his neck, feeling like the scratchy edge of a clothing tag he’d forgotten to cut out. If he didn’t know better, Allie looked heartsick and he hated himself. He knew she couldn’t handle casual, but he’d gone in anyway. It was just that…he couldn’t resist her. That was the problem.

If he were truly honest with himself, those two days with Allie in that snowbound lodge had blown his mind. He couldn’t even say that if he had to do it all over again, that he’d do anything differently. Afterward, he’d spent weeks dreaming about her petal-soft skin, and the fact that he’d never in his whole life had a woman so attuned to him, so willing, so completely focused on the moment. Plus, he practically sneezed and she came. Once, twice…and again, and again and again. And none of them faked. That was the amazing part. They were one hundred percent real, just like Allie herself. Most of the women he took to his bed seemed to be only there to star in their own personal porn, acutely aware of which angle looked best for them, as if performing the whole thing for some imaginary audience, but Allie wasn’t like that. Allie was carefree, completely authentic. Because of that, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever met.

But he’d crossed a line he’d promised he’d never cross with her. She’d been one of the few women he’d managed to be friends with and he’d gone and let a little wine and a blizzard get in the way of his good judgment. All he’d been trying to do was minimize the damage afterward. He thought if he made himself scarce it would somehow be easier. Sure, for him, but also for her. She could recover and they could both pretend those two days never happened. Maybe, even, after a little time, they could be friends again. Because what was he going to do? Settle down? Ask her to marry him? Have two kids?

Marriage, kids, a picket fence—those were never going to be in his future. He had too much Beck blood in him. Becks didn’t do families. Or when they did, they did them all wrong.

He’d disappeared for her own good, but it looked like she’d done a lousy job of recovering. And it was all his fault. It didn’t look like she was thriving. Sure, she was as gorgeous as ever, especially with the new hair—yellow and red like a single flame—and those sexy AF librarian glasses. God, they made her look razor sharp and…so delectable. But the faint circles under her eyes told him she wasn’t sleeping, and her too-slim hips told him she wasn’t eating enough. Beck knew that when she was stressed, she didn’t eat. Like during her busy time at work last year when he’d have to practically force-feed her dinner, because she fretted so much about her deadlines that she forgot she needed food to fuel her. Who was making sure she ate now? Her cheekbones were sharper, her waist thinner than usual. She needed to eat, that much he knew. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and take her to the nearest burger joint and watch her gobble down a large order of fries. The instinct to take care of her burned in him.

That was why they’d made such good friends. He wanted to take care of her. But now they’d slipped into bed together and everything had changed. He’d known it would, but he’d crossed the line anyway. He was a fool.

She moved like the model she should’ve been: tall, elegant, lean. Just watching the bar light catch those fire-engine red highlights of hers made him want to put his hands in that messy bun and tug it down, unraveling the silky strands with his fingers. He remembered the feel of her waves in his fingers, soft but strong, and the feel of her thick lips on his. He recalled, too, her sheer lace underwear—and garter belts. She might be a buttoned-up accountant on the outside, but peel off that first layer, and any man was in for a surprise. Her lingerie had matched perfectly—a shock since the blizzard had taken them both by surprise, and they’d ended up stuck at the same lodge by sheer accident. He had wanted to study it and rip it off at the same time. He wondered what she might be wearing beneath that tight cashmere sweater. Red lace? God, he hoped it was red.

His groin tightened at the mere thought.

Stop it, he told himself. He wasn’t crossing that line again. It was best for her. He knew that even if she didn’t yet. He’d plowed through a couple of rebound trysts since then, but he’d had to choke them down, force himself. Liam Beck had never been the kind of guy who had to force himself to oblige a willing woman, and yet, lately, sex had become a chore. In fact, he hadn’t even touched another woman in a full month. Because the more women he took to his bed, the more he realized they were nothing like Allie. He’d been through enough plain cotton thongs and mismatched sports bras and fumbling awkwardness to last a lifetime. They all seemed immature somehow, even though none was more than a couple of years younger than him. Even Channing, with her corset and plunging cleavage, seemed just like a girl playing dress-up.

Allie, on the other hand, was a woman. Complex, grown-up, sexier and infinitely more dangerous. He watched her glide through the crowd, the men and women parting to let her to the bar. She was tall, lithe and graceful as she leaned in to get the bartender’s attention. Not that he needed a signal. He dropped everything and scurried over to get her order, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. Of course. She was gorgeous, that auburn hair and delicate pale neck. She was a knockout, not that she knew it. Her power over men always came as a surprise to her. Not to Beck.

He frowned as he watched the bartender’s eyes light up as he bathed in her attention. He remembered the feel of being the focus of those clear green eyes, and the feeling, too, of truly being seen. He noticed their conversation dragged on longer than should be right for a quick order of drinks. The man laughed, too, at one of her jokes, he assumed, and then Beck wondered with a shock if she were flirting with him. The dad-bod bartender? The one with the patchy beard? Looked like he couldn’t grow any in on the middle part of his chin. Was she serious? He was maybe a three, and she was most definitely a nine. Was she doing this to get his attention?

If so, goal achieved.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Why was she leaning so far over the bar? The bartender’s eyes drifted down to the V-neck of her sweater, which barely contained her. And he suddenly wanted to fly across the bar and remind the man about good old-fashioned manners. The jingly, upbeat Christmas music drifting out through the speakers suddenly grated, as his mood turned dark. This wasn’t the happiest season of all. He hated Christmas. It reminded him of the day he watched his dad being led out of their house in handcuffs. He hadn’t come from the kind of family who baked cookies and sang carols.

The whole season got him into a defensive mood, and it didn’t help watching the bartender fall all over himself to serve Allie right now. He had a goofy grin plastered on his face as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Well, of course. He’d just won the lottery with the sexiest woman in the bar whispering something directly into his ear. Whatever she said, she seemed to make his night. And then he realized with a shock that maybe she knew him. Was she dating this guy? Were they a…thing?

Then, in a flash, she was kissing the guy, on the mouth, in front of everyone in this damn bar. That answered his question then. What the holy hell? If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. What was Al doing sticking her tongue down that guy’s throat? Then he had to remind himself that he’d set her free for this very reason. He clutched his beer harder. Didn’t make the reality of her using that freedom any easier to take. Whoops and hollers of approval went up from the bar, as the nearest revelers seemed to enjoy the show. The attention didn’t bother Allie at all, which confounded Beck. How could this be? She hated the idea of people watching her. Then the bartender reached up and put his hands in her auburn hair, threatening to bring the whole messy bun down.

He couldn’t watch anymore. He turned away then, chugging a big swig of beer.

None of your fucking business, Beck.

He set her free, and it was for her own damn good. If this was how she used her freedom, then that was her choice. He’d had this stupid notion that he’d nobly let her go and she’d find the man of her dreams, a boring lawyer type who’d deliver all the things she wanted: an engagement ring, a white picket fence and kids—the life he’d sworn he’d never have. He wasn’t the kind of man to be domesticated. He had serious issues with his father, but the one thing he’d learned from the drug addict was that it was best not to put someone in a cage who didn’t want to be there. Otherwise, he’d hurt everyone around him trying to escape.

He took another drink of his beer. Then a cry went up from the bar—Allie’s cry. He whirled in time to see some other patron at the bar deciding to get in on the action. He had an arm around her and was dragging her to him against her will, asking for a kiss as well, though the look on Allie’s face told him she was in no mood to oblige him. The bartender was gesturing and yelling at the man, but whatever the threat from her new boyfriend, it wasn’t enough. Before he could stop himself, he’d stashed his beer on a ledge near Channing and was on the move, every muscle in his body telling him that he had to intervene. He felt a sense of possessiveness he had no business feeling rising up in him, a ridiculous primal instinct he knew was wrong but couldn’t fight. Nobody touched Allie without her permission. Ever. Period.

He made it to the bar just in time to see Allie give the patron a good stomp with her stiletto ankle boot on the inside of his foot, and he leaped back, cursing. Allie’s frown and the wagging finger in the man’s face told Beck she had the situation handled. But then, she always did. He felt a fierce swell of pride in his chest. That was his Al, all right. Lord help the man who underestimated her. God, he missed her. She swiped past him, glancing up for a split second, her green eyes ablaze. He watched her head to the ladies’ room, and without thinking, he followed her into the small corridor. He found her outside the locked door, leaning against the corner and fiddling with her heel. He watched as the heel fell off the sole of her shoe. She’d broken it against the man’s foot! He couldn’t help himself—a sly grin wiggled across his face.

“Well, that’s one way to make sure he understands the value of consent,” he managed, folding his forearms across his chest. “You okay?”

Her head snapped up then, her green eyes fixed on him, fury still flickering there. She’d stashed her librarian glasses somewhere, and now he could see her green eyes clearly, large and burning. The fire in them didn’t cool when she saw him, either.

“I’m fine,” she said as she tried unsuccessfully to reattach the heel. Whatever had held it there was useless now.

“I might have superglue in my truck,” he offered. The idea of her wobbling about on lopsided shoes for the evening wouldn’t do.

“I don’t need your help.” She ground out the words as she glared at him. There was a series of novels in that one little sentence, added meaning behind every word. Frustrated with her heel, she let out a sigh and stopped trying to affix it to her boot, as she sagged against the wall one legged, like a depressed flamingo. He almost laughed but thought better of it. Laughing would make her only more furious and he didn’t want to chance her breaking her good heel on his foot. She wobbled a little, biting her lip in frustration. She ducked down and tried to unzip the broken-heeled boot, but balancing on one stiletto in a small corridor with no good handholds made her less like a flamingo and more like an amateur athlete stuck on the end of a pole midvault.

“Al…” He leaned in now, close enough to get a whiff of her amazing perfume, the signature floral scent that always used to drive him mad. She smelled like the Rockies in springtime, all in bloom beneath the Colorado sunshine. “Please,” he said with deliberate deference. He reached out and touched her elbow. Instantly, her wobble steadied. “Let me help.”

She glanced up at him, an unanswered question in her emerald green eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to strong-arm her any more than he could tell daffodils where to grow.

“Please, Al.”

She softened a bit. Fairly confident she wouldn’t try to stick her good stiletto in his eye, he knelt before her and helped her unzip the broken boot, her delicate foot slipping out, revealing sheer lace socks. His eyebrows rose in appreciation. Only Al could make socks sexy. He saw the bright green polish on her toes and thought of her eyes. Still kneeling, he held her tiny foot on his knee, giving her a steady base, and tried not to think about the warmth of her toes against his jeans. He studied the shoe, and the heel that she wordlessly handed to him. He wasn’t sure if glue would work after all. Beck studied the slope of the boot’s sole, surprised to find it more like suede than leather, more pliable.

“Can I see the other one?” He reached for the good boot. She hesitated, but then let him, slipping her socked foot on the mat near the bathroom doors and raising her other foot. He slowly worked the zipper down the side, trying not to think about how he’d taken off her boots just this way…that night at the lodge. Boots…then jeans…then the delicate lace beneath. She stood very still, eyes watching his every move. He freed her from the second boot, and now she was standing in her lacy socks, her freshly painted green toes a beacon. He wanted to kiss them and stroke her calf all the way up to her knee. He watched as she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Floor cold?” he asked her, and she gave him a swift nod. He glanced around, seeing a stack of kitchen towels stashed in the shelves near the bathrooms. He grabbed a thick one and dropped it down near her feet. She tiptoed on the terry cloth delicately and stood there on the balls of her feet. He managed to divert his attention back to her boot in his hand. The good one. He’d put the broken one down on the floor. He straightened, as he studied the black suede boot, an idea coming to him. An idea she wouldn’t like, but that would help prevent her feet from freezing for the rest of the night.

He took the boot, which seemed so delicate and small in his hands, and quickly snapped the other heel off.

“What the hell!” cried Allie, her face beet red with anger. “Beck!”

“You can walk in these now and your feet won’t get cold,” he said, even as she gave his chest a shove. He tried to defend himself against her blows. “And calm down. I’ll buy you a new pair.”

She angrily swiped the boot out of his hand and jammed her foot in it. “I don’t need you to buy me anything.”

“I know,” he said. Allie could take care of herself, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t want to if she’d ever let him. Her head bounced up, a tendril of auburn hair falling across her forehead.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

“So you break my shoe?”

“I evened the pair,” he managed. Now her ire was fully focused on him, the jerk at the bar long forgotten. Suddenly, the heel fiasco was all his fault, instead of the handsy SOB who’d started all this—or the wimpy bartender who couldn’t defend her even in his own place. “I didn’t want your feet freezing, or for you to fall and break your knee hobbling around like a pirate.”

She stuffed her other foot in the other boot and zipped it. They both glanced down at the flattened boots and saw her toes pointing oddly in the air. The once sexy ankle boots looked a bit like something that one of Santa’s elves might wear. Now Beck really did want to laugh. Hard. But he had to swallow his chuckle as she glared at her feet, exasperated.

“I look ridiculous now.”

Beck said nothing. She did, kind of, look ridiculous in her elf shoes. Not that any of the guys at this bar, or any other bar, would care. No man would be looking at her feet. She could wear a pair of stuffed bear paw slippers and still get hit on by every straight guy in the place.

Allie frowned, more tendrils of loose hair falling forward in her face, her bun all but coming undone. He wanted to put his hands in her hair and finish the job. He longed to see her face framed by the silken auburn streaked with red, wanted to feel that silky hair once more on his bare chest. He mentally shook himself. More thoughts like these and he’d have a hard-on in the bar, right there. And he’d promised himself: hands off Allie. Period.

“I don’t think your new boyfriend will care about the shoes, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Beck offered.

“Boyfriend?” Confusion crossed Allie’s face.

“The bartender?” Beck reluctantly nodded toward the bar, still not quite believing that the solidly below-average man was Allie’s choice to replace him.

“Him?” Allie laughed, confusing Beck. “He’s not my boyfriend. Any more than you are.”

The sting of the comment was surprisingly sharp. Beck blinked fast. “Sure seemed like you guys were friendly.”

Allie’s gaze focused on him with the intensity of a lion looking for the weak member of a pack.

“Were you watching me?” she asked, a note of accusation in her voice.

“Of course I was.” If she were in the room, then that was where his attention would be. Plain and simple. That hadn’t changed, might never change. “So you’re not dating him?”

Allie laughed. “The bartender? No.”

Relief flooded Beck. “Good.” That bartender couldn’t handle a woman like Allie. She was way out of his league.

“I don’t even know his name,” she added.

This felt like a punch in the gut. “You kissed a guy and you didn’t even know his name?” Beck felt like an alien had come down and taken over his friend’s body. She was not the make-out-with-strangers-in-a-bar type. Allie picked her lingerie with care, and her men with more deliberation. It was one of the things that made Allie…Allie. They’d spent enough time at enough happy hours to know how the other operated, enough time together lamenting the Aspen dating scene to know what made the other tick. It had been why they’d been such great friends. Until the blizzard that had snowed them in on top of the mountain and everything changed.

“Why?”

Allie shrugged. “Because Mira dared me to.”

“Dared you?” None of this made sense. “What the hell is that?”

Allie laughed. “I’m playing a game of double dare you. So why do you care? Don’t you have some mark to make tonight? Is it Channing?”

Beck flinched. They were back in Allie and Beck mode, friends mode, where she’d be his wingman at the bar and he’d reveal the real truth about what it was like being Aspen’s most-talked-about bachelor. It was comfortable. Dangerously comfortable.

“No, I can’t stand Channing.”

“She sure likes you.” The words seemed to have some weight to them. Beck tried not to think about what that meant. Despite the fact they were acting like good old friends, something was off. Beck knew exactly what. It was because he’d tasted every inch of her body and he’d liked it. Liked it so much, he craved another round. And another. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have your pick of the bar. Anyway, I’ve got to go. The bartender told me he’s off in fifteen minutes.”

Now Beck felt like he’d been hit with a ton of bricks. She was going to take that lame guy home after that pathetic show at the bar when he let that patron slobber all over her? She was going to show him her red lace? His brain felt short-circuited. The world he lived in no longer made sense.

“You’re going to fuck him?” He stared at Allie as if seeing her for the first time. “You don’t even know his name.”

“That never stopped you before.”

“Yeah, but, Al. You’re not me.” He thought this was obvious. Al didn’t do casual. She’d never done anything casual in her whole life. She was all in or nothing. There wasn’t an in-between with her.

“I’m not?” The challenge in her voice was unmistakable. “Maybe I’ve been going about my life all wrong. Maybe I’ve been boring.”

What was she even talking about? “You’re not boring.” She was anything but. And taking after him was the last thing she ought to do. If only she knew how little he’d enjoyed anything or anyone since the weekend they’d spent together, how he drifted aimlessly through nights with strangers like a robot. He could go through the motions, but he felt numb inside, as if he was stuck in a performance trying to convince himself that sex could be half as good with anyone else. He already knew it would never be as good with anyone as with Allie.

“Al…” He sighed. He knew all he had to do was pull out his phone right now, and in seconds he’d probably have a Tinder hookup waiting in the parking lot. There was no way she’d believe that was the last thing he wanted with her standing in front of him. “If you take that guy home, it’ll be a mistake.” Then she’d feel the emptiness he felt, the uselessness of it all. “You’ll regret it.”

He was speaking only the truth, but she immediately took offense.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said. He recognized Allie’s stubbornness, but not this newfound determination to sleep around. She didn’t avoid her problems by having sex with strangers. That was Beck’s coping mechanism, as ill-advised as it was.

She cared too much, that was Allie’s problem, and she wasn’t built for casual sex. It was why it had been a colossal mistake for him to go there. He wasn’t a relationship guy. Allie deserved the guy who bought her flowers and wrote his own sappy poems in Valentine’s Day cards. Not the guy who didn’t plan his life more than a week in advance. “Please don’t take him home.” Beck realized he had no sway anymore. As much as he wanted to protect her and keep her safe from scruffy-bearded bartenders, he actually didn’t have a say in her life.

“Why do you care?”

“Because…” He never stopped caring—that was the whole problem. Because he was jealous, even though he had no right to be. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.” She blinked, and he worried for a second she might cry. If she cried, he’d be undone; he wouldn’t be able to keep his resolve. He’d pull her into his arms and beg her for forgiveness. And that wouldn’t help either of them. How could he tell her that he’d just find a way to disappoint her? Later, five or even ten years down the line, the Beck genes would come roaring to the surface. They always did.

“I’m…” He almost said “sorry” but stopped himself. Sorry wasn’t enough. “Just…please don’t do this.”

She took a step closer to him and he felt his own heart tick up, the thought of pain and heartbreak slipping away. Her perfume was in his nose, and all he wanted to do was inhale. She was so close he could dip down and kiss her now, show her what it meant to be properly kissed, not slathered on. He could kiss her in the way he knew she liked. Every bit of him wanted to. Wanted to feel her lips once more against his. Make her sigh into his mouth.

“You can’t tell me what to do anymore,” Allie said, voice low.

Beck couldn’t help it. He chuckled and shook his head slowly. “Al, I never could tell you what to do.” And he wasn’t dumb enough to start now. “I just don’t think the bartender is the answer to your problems,” he said. “Trust me, I know.” He couldn’t even remember the names of the women he’d been with but he knew that they’d only made him feel lonelier.

“Maybe the bartender is just what I need.” Her green eyes were ablaze with defiance. “Maybe I’ll just accept any crazy dare that Mira or anyone else throws my way. Not because I’m scared of what Mira or anyone else thinks, but maybe I’ll do it just because I can.”

Allie stabbed a finger in his chest, and Beck felt laughter bubble up in his throat, which he promptly squashed. There was no way he’d tell her that her anger coupled with her elf shoes made her off-the-charts adorable.

“Look, you don’t have anything to prove to me, okay?” he managed. If this was about trying to make him jealous, he needed to stop this right here and now. She needed to get past him if she was ever going to truly be happy with someone else.

“Why do you think it’s about you? None of this is about you.” Allie’s right eyebrow twitched, her tell. She was lying.

“This isn’t about me?” Beck knew he shouldn’t poke the bear. Knew he should just let her leave the little alcove feeling like she’d won this fight. But Beck couldn’t let it go. She needed to face her feelings, or they’d always have control over her. She’d never get over him, if she was always trying to prove she was over him. The ultimate irony.

Not that he’d done much better. He’d faced his feelings for Allie every day since that weekend, and it hadn’t helped him one bit. He had no idea how forty-eight hours had upended his life, but they had.

“You think it’s about that weekend? It’s not.” Again, her eyebrow twitched. “I don’t even think about that weekend.”

Now he knew for sure she was lying.

“You don’t?”

“No. I don’t.” She glared at him. He’d made her come more times than she could count, and she’d shouted his name in a hoarse ecstasy that he’d never heard before. She absolutely remembered. He would bet money on it. Hell, he’d bet all his money on it. “You think I won’t take that bartender home? Just dare me. I will.” He almost wanted to catch her up in his arms right then, show her who she should be taking home tonight.

“If you need me to dare you, then maybe you’re not all that into the idea,” he said dryly.

She flipped her hair from her eyes and looked as if she might breathe fire, burn him to ash if she could. That’s it, he thought. Get angry. Angry was much better than sad. Anger could help her get stronger. Sadness would eat her alive, but anger would help her fight. Help her recover. “You’re impossible. I’ll take him home anyway.”

“You’ll take him home and you’ll think of me.”

Shock bloomed on her face as her mouth fell open. He’d rendered her speechless—for once. He grinned. He knew she needed to get angry, for her sake, but he was also enjoying pushing her buttons. He’d forgotten how easy she was to bait and how much he loved her temper. He was drawn to that heat, that fire, in her.

“I will not,” she managed, once she found her voice again. “How dare you even think that I’m somehow hung up on you…”

“Because you are.”

“I’m not.” Now the teasing was going too far. Annoyance bubbled in Beck. Why wouldn’t she just admit it? He knew it was about pride, but if she just admitted it, she could move on.

“Okay,” Beck said, his mind feeling like it was crawling with ants. Allie was getting under his skin. He took a step closer and almost felt like he wanted to drown in those green eyes. So defiant, so full of ire and so stubbornly unwilling to admit that she still had feelings for him, which she clearly did. He was going to do something rash, something that broke his own rules, but he had such a hard time toeing the line. Hell, he didn’t even see the line with her right in front of him. “If you are over me, and I don’t mean anything to you, then prove it.” She blinked fast. He grinned, slowly, letting the tension build. He was going to enjoy this. “I dare you to kiss me.”

CHAPTER THREE

ALLIE FELT THE entire world on the other side of their little nook fade away into nothing. For a second, she forgot to breathe and there was just her and Beck, the only two people on earth. Because it all seemed more than absurd, she laughed. A brittle, bitter laugh.

The man must be joking. That was the only way she could think to explain it. How else was it that Beck, who’d been happily sleeping with the tourists of Aspen for the last two months, wanted to kiss her? He was the one who’d made it clear to her that they had no future, and yet now he wanted to come back for more?

“Why are you laughing?” His steady, serious gaze told her she’d miscalculated. He was deadly serious.

“Because you have to be joking.”

“I’m not.” He was so close now, she could see the darker flecks in his blond stubble. The man seemed as if he belonged in the middle of a snowboarding commercial beneath the bright mountain sun. She wanted to put her hands in his hair. Touch it, see if it was as soft as she remembered. She had to shake herself. That was not an option. Not now. Not ever. “If you don’t care for me at all, then kiss me. I’ll be able to tell, and then I won’t bother you anymore, and you can take that scruffy bartender home.”

“This is ridiculous.” She shifted her feet in her broken boots, the soles feeling oddly angled against the bar floor. She felt exposed.

What was the man’s game? He could have anyone in the bar, and in fact, Channing was already in a pout across the room because she’d lost her prize.

There was only one reason why she could think that he’d be interested in her again.

Was the adventuring ski god of Aspen…jealous? He didn’t want her for himself, but didn’t want anyone else to have her?

“So? What about that dare?” His blue eyes never left hers. They were steady, serious.

She laughed again, but this time it came out sounding thin and a little nervous. “No,” she said and folded her arms across her chest.

“Why not?” Now he moved a beat closer. She could almost feel his body heat, and she’d forgotten how broad he was, and the nook they were in barely contained them. He was all muscle, and if he wanted that kiss, he could get it whether she wanted it or not. But that wasn’t Beck’s way. She knew it as well as he did. Besides, women in Aspen would line up for a chance to kiss Liam Beck, for a chance to do much more than that.

The worst part was that even though he’d discarded her just two months ago, her body didn’t seem to care. Right in that moment, all she wanted to do was reach on her tippy toes and kiss that man right here. After all, he was a phenomenal kisser. A man with that much practice couldn’t help but be.

“You know why,” she said, voice low. Because we had amazing sex and then you dropped off the face of the earth. Then I hear you think I’m boring. But Allie couldn’t get herself to say those things out loud.

“If you take that bartender home, but you’re still hung up on me, it’s not going to be good for you.”

White-hot anger rushed through her, warming her right through her toes. “It’s my mistake to make, then.” She could not believe this man. He ghosted her, then spread rumors she was a dud in bed, and now he was micromanaging her dating life?

“You don’t get to pick who I sleep with, Beck.”

“I know.” Beck glanced away, almost looking guilty. “I know that.”

The vulnerability he showed in that moment sliced through her. He seemed so lost…so untethered. For a second, she wondered if the breakup had hit him hard. Harder than she’d imagined. Here she thought he’d just resumed his life, no worse for wear, but the look of pain across his face told her a different story. Could it be that he had suffered, like she suffered?

It almost made her want to kiss him, just to make him feel better. She nearly laughed. She wanted to make him feel better? What was she thinking? She wasn’t. She never did when it came to Beck.

“Go ahead, then,” Beck said, sounding resigned. “Go back to him.”

She hated that in that moment of him dismissing her, it made her only want to stay. Why, she didn’t know. The more Beck pushed her away, the more she wanted to be with him. She hated that weakness in herself. She glanced over Beck’s shoulder and saw the bartender eyeing them from the bar. He’d come to her rescue if she signaled him, she thought. But part of her didn’t want to be rescued. She wanted to stay just where she was and that was what worried her.

“Maybe I will.”

Beck stared at her for a beat. “You’re not moving.”

No, she wasn’t. It felt like she was caught in Beck’s gravitational field, fixed like a moon in orbit.

“I don’t think you want to go,” Beck said at last. Damn him for reading her mind. She scooted a bit against the wall, but her elf boot hit the edge of a nearby mat, and she stumbled. He caught her, steadying her. His strong hands on her elbows made her remember how talented they were in exploring other parts of her body. How she felt so delicate, so little, in his arms. Allie froze then, the moment turning serious suddenly. He ran a finger down the outside of her upper arm. His touch felt hot. She watched his finger trail the seam of her sleeve, remembering how well his hands already knew her body. Despite all her logical misgivings, some part of her still burned for him. “I think you want to kiss me. I think you haven’t gotten enough of me.”

There was no boast in the words. It was true, after all. How could he read her so well?

She blinked fast. Her heart ticked up a notch. She wanted to kiss him, but she was scared. One kiss and she might be a slave to him again, a slave to her own passions, all logic and will gone. Beck moved forward, and she was in the dark corner of the alcove now, away from the bar, out of the line of vision of anyone there. The bartender wouldn’t be able to help her now, but she didn’t want anyone’s help.

She decided then and there, she wasn’t going to be afraid of Liam Beck. She could kiss him and not feel anything. She could do this and prove to him and herself that she was beyond him.

“I’ll kiss you, just to prove that weekend meant nothing,” she said. “I don’t feel anything for you, Liam Beck.”

Beck nodded, once. “Good. If that’s true, then I’ll leave you alone.”

She needed Liam Beck out of her life. And if kissing him one last time was the way to do it, then she’d do it. It’s just a kiss, she told herself. It would mean nothing. And then she’d be free of him.

“Fine.” She tilted her head up, lips ready. Beck wasted no time. His big palm sneaked behind her back, and he pulled her to him. In seconds, she was pressed flat against the massive muscles in his chest. He was so big, she felt tiny. She held a breath, her heart fighting like a rabbit trying to get out of its cage. Beck took his time. His eyes studying hers and then moving ever so slowly down her face to her lips. They parted on their own accord, already tingling in anticipation. It won’t mean anything. I won’t feel anything, she told herself.

He pressed his full lips against hers, tentatively at first. Gently. She kept her lips still. If I don’t move, then everything will be fine. But she knew already this wasn’t going to be a quick peck on the lips. Beck had something else in mind. The second his lips moved on hers, the entire last two months disappeared. It was as if they’d never spent a second apart and they were right back in that lodge.