If You Dare by Jessica Lemmon

over his ribs. His skin had been branded by her unforgettable touch, and he ached to hold her again. She’d ruined him. He tried to hate her for it but couldn’t.
    She folded into herself, her blue eyes not quite meeting his face. He’d hurt her feelings. And no matter how much he insisted to himself that she deserved it for hurting his, he hated to see that look on her face. So he focused on a point over her shoulder instead.
    Lily let loose a frustrated groan.
    He opened his mouth to tell her she wasn’t the only one who was frustrated, but she didn’t look upset. She looked terrified, her body frozen in place, eyes wide and focused off to the side, white knuckles compressing her upper arms hard enough to cut off the circulation.
    A floorboard creaked behind her. “That wasn’t me,” she said.
    Every muscle in his body coiled. He moved quickly, lashing an arm around her and stumbling to the nearest wall. He pressed his back into it, keeping her at his side, one arm wrapped around her protectively.
    In the light of the Coleman, he tried to make out figures in the shadows. He held his breath to try and locate the source of the phantom groan. Nothing. Nothing but the almost audible rattle of his nerves.
    Marcus was far from timid, but there was something…otherworldly happening in this place. And he didn’t like it. Not at all.
    Lily clung to his arm. He could feel the cold chill of her fear as much as his own.
    “I want to leave.” Her voice was as fragile as glass—not something he was used to hearing from her.
    “So do I,” he admitted. “Let’s find those keys.”
    With strength he didn’t feel, he pushed away from the wall, held tightly to her hand, and walked to the first of many closed doors.
    He lifted one hiking boot and kicked the door open.
    “May as well start here.”
    …
    Holy Hand Grenades of Antioch.
    Arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Lily scanned the room she’d followed Marcus into, shivering as a gust of air sifted through the rip in the roof over her head. It’d been there a while, if she had to guess. The boards at her feet were decayed from water damage and there was a roll-top desk tilted awkwardly in the corner, one of its legs having broken through the floor.
    Marcus inspected a built-in bookshelf on the far wall, shoving soggy books from the shelves while searching for the missing keychain.
    A spiderweb overhead caught her eye and she backed away from it and the fat-bodied black jewel in its center. Something squished beneath her shoe, and she looked down to find a soaking Oriental rug.
    “Careful,” he said. “Any one of these floorboards could give.” His black brows arched over his nose. He was still angry with her, but that didn’t keep her from admiring the way the shadows darkened his face, making him look mysterious and sexy.
    Again, her heart ached with regret. For insinuating that she’d thought the worst of him. She didn’t. She was just…scared and had lashed out like a cornered cat.
    Lily took a step toward him. “Why don’t you just say it?” she prompted. She’d feel better if he’d talk to her. Or argue with her. She could handle that a lot better than his silence.
    He held a book open in his palm. He shut it with a damp slap and tossed it onto the shelf. “What do you want me to say?”
    “That you’re angry with me.”
    He reached for another book, avoiding her eyes. “I’m not angry with you.”
    “My keys aren’t being used as a bookmark, so I doubt you’ll find them in there.” She grabbed the edge of the book in his hand, but he didn’t let go. Much like the tug-of-war over the plastic ax earlier, his strength won. He dragged her to him. She allowed him to, stopping short of stepping on his toes. She relinquished the book, and he tossed it onto the shelf with the others.
    She waited.
    He watched her silently.
    “Marcus.”
    “You think I arranged this entire evening to maneuver my way into your pants?”
    She flinched. That was