Page 47 of Dare To Take

I press one final kiss to her pussy and straighten. “Let’s go.”

“Clothes first.”

My gaze tracks over her. “But you look so good like that.”

“Don’t think Elena or your dad will agree.”

I huff a laugh. “Probably not.”

“Eli? Arabella? Hurry up, Cook wants to serve dinner,” Elena’s voice calls up the stairs.

I smile at Arabella. “You heard her.”

She pulls up her jeans, finds her bra and puts it on while I watch, then pulls her t-shirt over her head.

“Lift your arms.”

She frowns but does as I ask. I laugh and flick a finger against her stomach. “You’ll need to be careful. Whenever you lift your arm, they’ll see the writing. Not what it says, but enough to be curious.”

She turns toward the bathroom. “I’ll wash it off.”

I catch her arm. “No, you won’t. I want to look at you across the table and know you’re thinking about me sucking your nipples and eating your pussy every time you move.” I lead her to the door. She resists, her face still turned toward the bathroom. “Come on, Ari. It’ll be fun.”

Her features soften into a smile. “Fine. Okay. But I want at least two orgasms.”

“You got it.”

For the first time in longer than I can remember dinner doesn’t end in an argument between me and my dad. I spend most of it trading smiles with Arabella across the table, while my dad and Elena talk about … whatever it is they talk about. I don’t pay them any attention. My focus is purely on Arabella and how quickly I can excuse myself.

“I don’t want dessert, thank you,” I tell the maid when she takes my plate away and see Arabella’s cheeks turn pink. “It’s been a busy couple of days. I’m going to have an early night.”

“It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. I thought we could play some board games as a family,” Elena says.

“Board games?” Arabella repeats.

“Scrabble, Monopoly …”

“I know what board games are. You’ve just never shown any interest in playing them before.”

“I like Scrabble,” I say before they can get into an argument. “Not so good at Monopoly. Dad cheats.”

“I do not.” My dad laughs. “It’s not my fault I’ve been in banking all my life and know how to play the game.”

“Arabella, would you do some baking? The cook and staff have tomorrow and Christmas Day off. I’m sure Elliot and Eli would appreciate some of your baked treats.”

“I’d love to sample your cookies.” I deliver the words with absolutely no inflection, timed to coincide with Arabella lifting a glass of water to her lips.

She chokes. Both our parents turn their attention to her, and I slip out of the dining room and head upstairs to take a shower.

When I walk back into my bedroom, Arabella is sitting cross-legged on my bed. I hike an eyebrow.

“You made me a promise, Eli Travers.”

“Did I?” I cross the room and kick my door shut. When I turn back to my bed, she’s topless.

“You said if I walked upstairs with no top on, you’d eat me out.”

“Hmm. Did I? I don’t remember that conversation.” I tap a finger against my lips. “When did I say that?”

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