Page 42 of Dare To Live

She folds her arms and glares at me. “Oh, I’m very serious.”

“Prove it.” I set down my mug.

“How?”

“Strip.”

Her lips part. Her tongue sweeps over them. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Take your clothes off. Right now.”

“Here?”

I arch an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Scared the neighbors might see you?” I give an exaggerated look around. “Don’t know if you looked outside this morning, Princess, but there’s very little risk of a peeping Tom today.” I lean forward and tap my fingers onto the tabletop. “You want a closure fuck. I laid down the terms of you getting it. You either want it or you don’t. If you don’t, then stop wasting my fucking time. If you do, then you know what to do.”

“You want me to take my clothes off in the kitchen?”

“Do you need me to be more specific?”

I don’t think she’ll do it. She’s just trying to get under my skin. If I call her bluff, she’ll leave me the fuck alone until the snow has melted enough to get her ass back to the nearest town.

You’ve forgotten what a stubborn wench she is.

The thought is accompanied by Arabella’s chair scraping against the floor. She stands and steps away from the table. I pick up my mug and settle back on my seat, waiting for her to walk past me and out of the room.

Instead, she pulls her t-shirt over her head and tosses it onto my lap. She’s wearing a lacy purple bra beneath it. She puts her hands on her hips and stares at me. I say nothing, but let my gaze drop to the waistband of her pants. I can see the hint of a tattoo peeking out. I flick my tongue piercing against my teeth.

“Are you done?”

Her lips thin and she shakes her head, then hooks her fingers into her yoga pants and drags them down her legs. They pool at her feet, and she steps out of them, leaving her in a matching bra and panty set.

“Cute.” I smirk at her and lift a hand, twirling one finger. “Spin for me. Show me what I’m working with.”

I catch a flash of angry eyes before she presents me with her back. There’s a tramp stamp across the small of her back, not as large as some I’ve seen and the script work is elegant. I fight not to smile when I read the word.

Hellcat.

“Face me.”

My gaze drifts over the butterfly tattoo I’d taken her to get all those years ago, up over her arms, down her chest, pausing on the small raven taking flight off one hip. I ignore the sharp stab of pain it sends through my heart. I know who it represents.

I lift my gaze to meet her eyes. “Remove the rest.”

She reaches back to unhook her bra and lets it fall, then pulls her panties down. There’s nothing sexy about her actions. This isn’t a strip tease. It’s a challenge.

I lower my gaze to her legs. There’s another tattoo on her inner thigh—a cat with bright eyes, one red and one green.

“Put your hands behind your head and spread your legs.”

Her blue eyes are spitting fire, but she does as I say. I run my tongue over my bottom lip and spot a flicker of a smile tug at her lips.

She thinks I’m falling into her game. That I’ll give her what she wants.

I let my gaze dip down, over her breasts, her stomach past her navel and pause between her legs. Unlike her eighteen-year-old self, she has a neat landing strip of pubic hair leading the way down to her pussy.

“Well, at least you learned how to landscape. If I decide to eat out, I won’t have to bring a flashlight with me to find your clit.”

Her entire body lights up in a blush. I hide a smile and turn my back on her to finish my breakfast. When I’m done, I glance back at her. Her eyes are burning their way through my skull. I push my plate away and stand up.

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