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Once Upon a Dare
by Jennifer Bonds
 
Copyright © 2015 by Jennifer Bonds. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

Olivia Masterson surveyed the Friday night clientele of Olive or Twist and came to the disturbing conclusion that she might be the only single twenty-something in the city of New York who wasn’t ruled by her libido. Was she doing something wrong? It appeared she was the only one in the sleek bar not looking to get flat-out drunk tonight. Or laid. The proof was sitting right across the table from her in the form of her best friend Chloe, who was too busy checking out the competition to actually listen to a word she said.

Despite the swell of raging hormones, the atmosphere of the bar was relaxed, with its dim lights, high top tables, and soft jazz music. That was one of the reasons she had chosen it. The other had to do with its proximity to the office, which was just down the block.

Truth be told, she’d rather be at home, curled up with a carton of chicken lo mein and her Kindle, but Chloe had insisted they stop for a drink to celebrate Olivia’s imminent promotion to partner at Pritchard and Associates, the advertising agency where they both worked. So there she was, spending her Friday night in a bar where the martinis were flowing and so were the pickup lines, and all she could think about was Chinese takeout.

Whatever that said about her, she wasn’t going to dwell on it.

“Come on, Liv!” Chloe pouted, signaling the waitress for another round of drinks. “Loosen up already.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me all liquored up and take advantage of the situation,” Olivia teased, popping a blue cheese stuffed olive in her mouth. Another perk of the martini bar—they had divine olives and weren’t shy about dishing them out.

“You should be so lucky,” Chloe countered, polishing off her drink with a rather unladylike gulp. “Considering the lack of actual sex in your sex life, I’d probably be the best you ever had.”

“Hey…” Olivia’s protest trailed off in a halfhearted sigh. How could she argue with that logic? She hadn’t had a man in her bed in, well, years. It was a wonder she and Chloe had become such good friends. Chloe was a hopeless romantic desperately seeking Mr. Right, and Olivia spent most of her free time holed up in the office working on pitches. Not exactly glamorous, but in her experience, the road to success rarely was.

Determined to make partner before her thirtieth birthday, she had made a lot of sacrifices in order to prove her father, and everyone else who doubted her abilities, wrong. She’d had plenty of motivation along the way. Her first year on the job, one of her coworkers had stabbed her in the back, telling everyone at the office she was shaking her ass up the corporate ladder. That little rumor had forced her to work twice as hard as everyone else. And even then it had taken months for people to stop whispering behind her back.

“I’m serious, Liv. There’s more to life than work, you know. And you can bet your Jimmy Choo’s the job won’t keep you warm at night, so I’m going to let you in on one of life’s little secrets, okay? When you die, no one’s going to care if it says partner, or president, or fry cook on your epitaph.”

Chloe shifted on her stool and tossed a handful of dark curls over her shoulder. She scanned the bar subtly. Always trolling for a man, Olivia thought as she watched her friend. Chloe had the curves of a bygone era and had yet to find a man who could handle them. Then again, maybe it wasn’t her curves that were the problem. Chloe had a larger than life personality and when her heart-shaped lips parted, there was no telling what might come pouring out.

“When Pritchard promotes you on Monday—”

“Don’t you mean if Pritchard promotes me?” Olivia corrected. “There’s no guarantee.”

“Whatever.” As usual, Chloe was quick to wave off the voice of reason. “Pritchard practically promised you that partnership if you landed the Bianchi account, which you did. Besides, what else could he want to see you about?”

“Who knows?”

Olivia rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had taken up permanent residence. Under normal circumstances, she thrived under pressure. Too bad these weren’t normal circumstances. Ever since Pritchard had sent her the cryptic meeting request, she’d been wound tighter than a Manhattan facelift. She deserved this promotion. She wanted this partnership so bad she could taste it. It tasted a hell of a lot like humble pie, which she’d be too happy to serve up to her family on a silver platter from Tiffany.

Chloe made a rude noise in the back of her throat and scrunched up her nose. “God knows it’s not like the old toad to skip his Monday morning squash game. He’s definitely up to something.”

Olivia shot her friend a disapproving look. Pritchard wasn’t that bad. Sure, he was a little temperamental, but he had a good heart and had always treated her fairly. He’d given her a shot five years ago and she’d stand by him as long as he did the same for her. Even so, with the meeting weighing on her mind, Olivia didn’t know how she was going to get through the weekend. “Can we please talk about something else? I don’t want to get my hopes up for nothing.”

For good reason. Thrust into beauty pageants from the time she could walk, Olivia had been crowned a Dairy Princess, an Apple Blossom Princess, and a hundred other ridiculous things she didn’t care to remember. But it made her parents happy and earned money for college. Win-win, right? Problem was, the more pageants she won, the less people actually saw her. Olivia became known as a pageant princess, nothing more, nothing less.

It didn’t matter she’d had the highest GPA in her class or that she was the editor of the high school newspaper. No one cared that she’d started the civic club or volunteered at the food bank. It didn’t even matter that she’d been accepted to Cornell. Any hope of being seen as more than a pretty face evaporated.

Back home, everyone assumed she would become some rich businessman’s trophy wife and live in a stupid house in the Hamptons. Well, screw that. She was writing her own plan and she’d done pretty damn well for herself so far. She was successful, self-reliant, and happy. Mostly. All she needed was this promotion.

And for people not to assume she’d slept her way to the top.

“Well, he’d be stupid not to promote you,” Chloe continued, unfazed. “You’ve been busting your ass for the last five years.” She paused as the waitress dropped off their drinks: a dry martini for Olivia and a cosmopolitan for Chloe. “You deserve that promotion,” she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face, “and a night of hot, dirty sex.”

Choking on her drink, Olivia fixed her friend with a death glare she hoped would end the depressing conversation about her sex life, or notable lack thereof. She certainly didn’t need a reminder that the only orgasms she’d had this year had come from a purple beaver vibrator.

“Seriously, Liv. You deserve, like, a whole weekend of raunchy sex,” Chloe assured her, head bobbing up and down. “The dirtier the better.”

“Charming.” Olivia rolled her eyes and opened the top button on her blouse. Spring was in the air and at the front of the open air restaurant the glass windows had been rolled up, admitting a light breeze which kissed her skin as it floated across the bar. It was her favorite time of year, and she relished walking through the city’s parks as they came to life at the end of a cold, slush-filled winter.

Of course, she could enjoy the changing season a lot more if Chloe would get off her back.

Guilt seized her at the thought. Chloe meant well and she was a good friend to put up with Olivia’s ridiculous work schedule. Hell, without Chloe, she’d probably never leave the office. Their friendship was basically the only thing that could challenge her reputation as the office “Ice Queen”—not interested in making friends, definitely not interested in dating.

“Answer me this.” Chloe’s brown eyes sparkled with mischief and Olivia worked to suppress a groan. No need to guess where this line of questioning was headed. As if she’d read Olivia’s mind, Chloe asked playfully, “When was the last time you got laid or even went on a date, Ice Queen?”

“Umm,” she stalled. She knew the answer to the first question, but no way was she admitting that. As for the last date she’d been on? She really couldn’t remember. Maybe Chad? He’d taken her to see the latest Hollywood thriller, which had totally sucked. It was their first and only date. “Last date? I went to the movies with Chad, that guy from the gym, last summer.”

“Liv, that was two summers ago,” Chloe returned quietly, a look of pity clouding her face.

“Oh, hell.” Leaning back on her stool, she crossed her arms over her chest. Had it really been that long? Did it even matter? She was so close to reaching her goal. Dating could wait. She was only twenty-eight, after all, and she wasn’t looking to get tied down any time soon. Not that it looked like she was in any danger of that anyway.

“You know what I think?” Chloe asked, not bothering to wait for a reply. “You need to adjust your expectations.”

“And you’re going to help me with that?”

“Take it from me,” Chloe grumbled. “I’ve got a long list of one-night stands to prove that a night of great sex doesn’t equal ‘I do’. Why deny your carnal urges? Look around.” She gestured to the crowd. “Are you really that oblivious to all this sexy man candy?”

“I appreciate a good looking guy as much as the next girl, but—”

“Bullshit,” Chloe argued, crossing her arms and giving her ample breasts an unnecessary lift that was sure to turn a few heads.

“What? I do!”

“Oh, really?” Chloe smirked, locking eyes with Olivia. “Prove it, Ice Queen.”

“Would you cut that out? What are you even talking about?”

“I dare you to seduce one of these delicious stud muffins,” Chloe challenged, a lascivious grin transforming her face. “And I get to choose which one.”

“Man candy? Stud muffins?” Olivia arched her brow. “Are you hungry? Do you need me to get you a snack?”

“I. Dare. You.”

“You cannot be serious.” Olivia scoffed, tapping her fingers idly on the table and avoiding Chloe’s intense stare. “What are we, twelve? I am not going to have sex with some random guy on a dare.”

“Your loss,” Chloe chided, smiling coyly. “Don’t you at least want to see what you’re missing?”

Unable to deny her curiosity, she twisted in her chair, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who’d inspired such a ballsy challenge. When her gaze settled on Chloe’s choice, she was sorry she’d looked. The guy was insanely hot. Tall, broad shouldered, and oozing confidence, he was exactly the kind of guy she would be attracted to—if she were in the market for a one-night stand, which she wasn’t. Still, it was impossible to ignore the slow burn moving south from her belly as she drank in his smoldering good looks.

Crap! His gaze swung toward her and she knew she’d been caught staring. Real smooth. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, refusing to shrivel under the heat of his gaze. She wasn’t one of those girls. And judging by the light in his eyes, he kind of liked that. She couldn’t quite make out the color, but their ravenous look left no doubt as to his intentions.

Olivia had never been a believer in lust at first sight, but apparently her body hadn’t gotten the message. Like a lit fuse, desire raced through her, awakening urges that had been dormant too long. Maybe Chloe was doing her a favor after all. It had been a while, and the prospect of having those masculine hands wrapped around her body instead of the stem of a martini glass waspromising.

…

Cole Bennett eyed his martini with a mixture of appreciation and discontent, trying to decide if he should order another. The martini was damn near perfect, but it wasn’t exactly his drink of choice. He preferred a nice smooth scotch any day of the week, but what the hell. The night was young and he didn’t have anywhere else to be. It also didn’t hurt that he was getting top notch service from the busty, bottle blonde bartender he’d pegged for the actress/model type. He’d smile and tip her well, but that was as far as it would go. It was his first night back in New York, and he was determined to be on his best behavior.

More than anything, he was glad to be home. Home meant a New York slice and more time with his sister, Anna. Growing up, he’d always looked out for her, but thirty-five hundred miles had forced him to step back and recognize her independence. Although he grudgingly accepted her adulthood, it was comforting to know he was only a short drive away if she needed him.

Sure, there were certain things he’d miss about London, but his lifestyle was far better suited to the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple. It was no secret to anyone who knew him that he lived on the edge, with his penchant for fast cars, hard liquor, and high stakes. After all, life was meant to be lived and he was determined to go full throttle after what he wanted. It was that tenacity which had earned him his first million and almost ruined him in London, where going after what—or rather,who—he’d wanted had nearly cost him everything he’d worked so hard to build. That was a mistake he wouldn’t be repeating, but it didn’t mean he was going to change his lifestyle any time soon. He nearly laughed at the thought.

For years, Anna had been bugging him to settle down and start a brat pack of his own, but there was no way in hell that was happening. Cole Bennett didn’t settle for anything. Besides, hadn’t fantasizing about that happily-ever-after bullshit been what had burned him in London? He’d seen enough broken families, including his own, to know a fairytale when he saw one.

No, Cole liked his life just fine. He especially liked the hot blonde he’d been admiring for the last half hour. Too bad it was her sultry looking friend who was undressing him with her eyes.

He wasn’t interested.

Cole set down his drink and focused on the blonde. She exuded class with a snug skirt that hugged her subtle curves and a hint of cleavage peeking through the open collar of her crisp white blouse. Just the thought of twisting his fingers in that honey-blond ponytail had his palms itching. And those legs. He had always been a leg man and hers were first class all the way.

Fortunately for his newfound resolve, she didn’t look like the one-night stand type. She was completely focused on her friend and hadn’t looked his way once. Nor had she looked at anyone else in the crowded bar.

There was a time when he would have jumped at the challenge, but he was older and wiser now and had seen firsthand what kind of trouble that could bring. There were plenty of women who were looking for a night of great sex, no more and no less, so why borrow trouble by screwing with the ones who wanted more?

Shit.

Who was he kidding? If he sat there much longer, he’d have a full blown hard-on at the mere thought of slipping between those thighs. He needed to get that second drink, or a change of scenery.

Without warning, her stool swiveled and she met his stare straight on, as though she’d felt the heat of his gaze all along. There was no mistaking the burning desire that flared in her clear blue eyes while she stared at him unabashedly.

Maybe he’d been wrong about her after all. She was definitely interested, but would she act on the impulse?

Chapter Two

Hoping to calm her unsteady nerves, Olivia sucked in a deep breath as she approached the bar. Was she really doing this? And, oh God, what if she made a complete fool of herself? What if he wasn’t interested? Maybe she’d imagined the spark between them? She exhaled slowly.

Confidence in the bedroom had never been an issue for her, but she’d also never set out to seduce a complete stranger before. She was out of her league and it took all her self-restraint not to glance back at the table where Chloe was waiting for the check.

What was the big deal anyway? It wasn’t like she’d be giving up her virginity, for crying out loud. Her v-card was long gone, no thanks to the ineptitude of Danny Reid and one highly overrated prom. This was just sex. As long as she remembered how to do it, things would be fine. Probably.

When she stepped up to the heavily lacquered bar, the perky blond bartender was quick to take her order.

“What’ll you have, hon?” she asked, as she wiped down the scarred counter.

“Dirty martini,” Olivia replied without hesitation. If she was going down the path of seductress, she might as well put on her big girl panties and commit one hundred percent. She hated to admit it, but there was no escaping a childhood spent chasing pageant crowns without learning a thing or two about catching someone’s eye.

Olivia zeroed in on the TV above the bar as she waited for her drink. The Penguins and Rangers were duking it out in a particularly brutal looking third period. She didn’t have much time for sports and knew just enough about hockey to be dangerous in conversation, but it helped settle her frayed nerves nonetheless.

Nothing like a bunch of hulking, over-sexed guys slugging it out to set a girl at ease.

“How much?” she asked when the bartender returned with her liquid courage.

“No charge,” the blonde replied through suddenly tight lips. “The gentleman at the end of the bar took care of it.”

“Oh, well, thanks.” Olivia felt a slow flush creep into her cheeks as she turned and smiled at the sexy stranger. He dipped his head in acknowledgement and a wave of dark hair fell over his forehead.

Her pulse thundered.

And she’d thought he couldn’t get any hotter. So much for that. At least she had an opening now. After all, he’d just bought her a drink. It would be rude not to thank him personally, wouldn’t it?

Olivia made her way to the end of the bar. She chose the stool to his left and sat down without asking permission. He was alone and looking for company. The martini she held in her right hand was proof of that.

“Are you in the habit of buying drinks for strangers?” she asked, crossing her legs and bumping his in the process. Their knees brushed and a current of electricity flowed through her, reminding her just how long it had been since a man had touched her.

“Only the pretty ones,” he returned, with a cocky grin.

Worst. Line. Ever. Olivia burst out laughing, releasing the nervous energy that had collected in the pit of her stomach. He might be to-die-for gorgeous, but his pick up game could use some work.

“If that’s the best you’ve got, it’s no wonder you’re sitting here alone on a Friday night,” she teased, relaxing in spite of herself.

“You’re smiling, aren’t you?” he asked, raking a hand through his inky black hair and pushing the loose strand back from his forehead.

“Yeah, well, I don’t get out much,” she replied, holding his gaze.

Up close, she was surprised to discover his eyes were a startling shade of gunmetal gray. They were like nothing she’d ever seen before. The color was a sharp contrast to his fair skin and dark hair, but it had nothing on his smile. She’d always been a sucker for good teeth and dimples, and he had both behind that five o’clock shadow.

The devilish grin that he flashed hooked upward on the right side, and her pulse soared. She prayed he couldn’t feel the heat rolling off her. If a bump of the knee and a flash of dimples made her feel this way, what would it be like to really touch him? She wanted to find out. Whether or not she could handle it was an entirely different question.

“One of those all work and no play types?” His words hung between them, heavy with sexual suggestion. Any other day she would have dismissed the line, but not tonight. His boldness had her stomach churning and her heart racing. This was a man used to getting what he wanted and tonight he wanted her. It was a heady feeling unlike any other.

“Something like that,” she replied.

“Then it must be my lucky day. Cole Bennett,” he offered, reaching to shake her hand. “And you are?”

“Olivia Masterson.” She met him halfway, her delicate hand slipping inside of his as he enveloped her fingers in warmth. A tingle danced over her skin and she felt her cheeks redden at his touch. There was no doubt about it—Cole Bennett was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on.

“Very nice to meet you, Olivia Masterson.” He released her hand, giving her a pang of disappointment. She wanted that tingle back, damn it! “You see, it’s my first night in the city, so it must be luck that our paths crossed, seeing as how you don’t get out much.”

“Oh, really?”

“True story,” he swore, placing his hand over his heart and drawing her eyes south to his muscular shoulders and broad chest. He wore an expensive Italian suit that reeked of money, but it did little to hide his solid torso. If anything, the tailored jacket emphasized his perfection. “I just moved from England,” he explained.

“And yet you have no accent,” she noted as she plucked an olive from her glass. “Too bad. Women love a man with a sexy accent. Find them irresistible, actually. I’d say a British accent would do wonders for your otherwise lacking pick up lines.”

Unable to resist goading him, she slipped the olive between her glossy lips and smiled, curious to see how he’d respond.

“Sexy and sassy. A dangerous combination in my experience,” he mused as he studied her.

She gave him her best “Who me?” look and sipped her martini.

“Can I tell you a secret, Olivia?” His tone was conspiratorial as he leaned in, turning his smoky eyes on her. She didn’t know much about the fine art of seduction, but she knew shrinking wallflowers weren’t sexy. Refusing to back down and determined to make good on the dare, she closed the gap between them, leaning forward until their shoulders brushed. She raised her brow in reply.

“I thought your friend was never going to leave.”

“Is that right?” she asked, smiling as she drew out her inner flirt. “Better watch your manners, Cole Bennett, or a girl might get the sense you don’t play well with others.”

“I don’t,” he growled. His gaze rolled over Olivia, lingering on her mouth. There was no doubt about his meaning, or the tension simmering between them. She fought the urge to lick her lips, wondering if he tasted as sinfully good as he looked. “When I see something I want, I find a way to make it mine. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to share.”

His expression was hunger in its purest and basest form. She swallowed, not trusting her voice. Desire surged from between her legs. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her feel so sexy.

Forget the dare. She was riding a wave of pure, animalistic need that demanded to be unleashed. It didn’t make any sense. She was as straitlaced as they came, and Cole was a virtual stranger, but Olivia wanted him more than she’d wanted any man in a very long time. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know what he did or where he lived. It only mattered that she know what he felt like inside her.

She took a final sip from her martini glass, solidifying her resolve. Her heart hammered so hard in her chest she was sure he would know she was a fraud. She was probably the only twenty-eight-year-old in the city who couldn’t check the “one-night stand” box on her resume.

That was about to change.

“Your place or mine?”

Surprise flickered across his face, but was quickly replaced by a grin. Her heart fluttered and she was grateful for the support of the stool. Without it she would’ve surely melted into a helpless puddle on the floor of the bar. Cole Bennett had a killer smile.

“I’ve got a room at the hotel across the street.”

“Perfect,” she replied, slipping off the stool and planting her feet firmly on the hardwood floor.

He pulled out his wallet and threw a hundred dollar bill on the bar. In one swift motion, he placed his hand on the small of her back and turned her toward the door. Before she could think too much about what she was doing, he was gently guiding her through the bar and out onto the busy sidewalk of Manhattan with a gesture that spoke of possession.

They didn’t talk much as they made their way across the street and through the hotel lobby. It was a comfortable silence, but the anticipation building within her was unbearable. She was enjoying the warmth of Cole’s touch on her back, but she wanted more—much more.

…

Cole watched the elevator creep down to the lobby and silently cursed his room on the thirty-fifth floor. Why hadn’t he booked a room on a lower level? The answer was obvious, but as he admired Olivia’s reflection in the gold plated doors ahead, he cursed again.

Truthfully, he hadn’t thought she’d have the guts to leave with him, but now that they were in the hotel, he was going to make damn sure she had an unforgettable night. This woman was sexy as hell and he wasn’t taking any chances. He had to know if she felt half as good on the inside as she looked on the outside.

When the elevator finally reached the landing, the doors opened with a quiet whoosh and he stepped inside. He turned to see her hesitate briefly and his stomach dropped. Indecision was written all over her face, but damn, she was beautiful even with doubt clouding those baby blues. He wanted to take her in his arms and show her what she’d be missing, but this had to be her choice. His erection strained against the unyielding fabric of his dress pants. Christ, if she walked away now, he’d be taking one hell of a cold shower.

His patience was rewarded when she stepped forward, a half-smile lighting her slender face. He reached for her hand and pulled her close as her fingers interlaced with his.

“Which floor?” she asked, reaching for the control panel with her other hand.

“Thirty-five.” He paused as she pressed the button. “You know, I was starting to think you’d changed your mind,” he murmured, sliding his free arm around her waist and pressing her body to his. Olivia was tall, maybe five-foot-nine, but with heels she was just the right height to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Are you calling me a tease?” she challenged, tipping her head back to look him in the eye. Her breasts swelled against his chest with the change of position, and his cock strained even harder against the zipper of the unforgiving pants.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He brought his hand to her mouth, dragging his thumb roughly across her full bottom lip. He felt a shiver race down her spine as her hips arched toward him. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about all the ways I’m going to make you come.”

Before she could reply, he pressed her against the side of the elevator and brought his mouth to her ear. “And I always get what I want, Olivia Masterson.”

Sliding a hand up her back, he lowered his mouth and placed a soft kiss just below her ear. Then he traced a line down the gentle curve of her neck with his tongue, savoring every inch. She tasted like a summer breeze, light and sweet. How it was possible, he didn’t know and didn’t care. He just wanted more. He nipped at her skin, pinching it gently between his teeth, and she sighed with pleasure, her body melting into his.

There was a lot of repressed sexuality under her businesslike exterior, and he suspected it had been a while since she’d allowed herself to give in to passion and lose herself in a man’s embrace. He moved his mouth up Olivia’s neck and chin, coming to rest on her lips. She responded savagely, her tongue darting into his mouth with surprising intensity. Oh, yeah, she would definitely be a screamer.

A bell chimed, shattering his concentration. He’d nearly forgotten they were in the elevator and was on the verge of tearing her clothes off. Desperate to get behind closed doors, where he could do all sorts of wicked things to her, he pulled back from her grip.

Undeterred by the lack of privacy, she grabbed his silk tie and led the way with the confidence of a woman who was about to get exactly what she wanted.