The Dare

Page 32

“So what do you think he’s up to?”

Conor chews on that, his jaw working. The muscles in his neck twitch. “You know what? Not my problem and I don’t want to know.” He rolls onto his side to face me. Something about his vivid gray eyes, the way his lips part when he’s staring at mine, does my head in every time. “I was having a great night before we were interrupted.”

I can feel myself blushing again. I bite my lip a little too hard, just to remind myself of the pain that’s always waiting when I let myself pretend. And yet I can’t stop myself from saying, “Me too.”

“I would’ve really liked to see where it was headed.”

“Where do you think it was headed?” Oh boy. Does that throaty voice actually belong to me?

His gaze turns molten. “I’ve got about a thousand ideas, if you’re into it.”

Am I into it?

Of course I’m into it. I’m way too into it and that’s the tricky part. Because right now is when I make the decision—go all in on total emotional destruction with Conor, or make a clean break for good.

Why does he have to smell so nice?

“I have to tell you something,” I say, squeezing the pillow to my chest and staring at my toes. “I’m…” A coward. I take a deep breath and try again. “I’ve never been with anyone. Like at all. Well, I’ve done a little. But not much.”

“Oh,” is his response.

It hangs there, that infuriating little syllable. Like a wisp of smoke growing larger as it fills the room.

Then he drawls, “I was a virgin too, once.”

I jab him with an elbow.

“It’s been a while since I was with a virgin.”

Another jab.

“I won’t tell anyone that you came too fast.”

I swing the pillow at his face. “This isn’t funny, asshole,” I say, laughing despite myself. “I’m being incredibly vulnerable right now.”

“Babe.” He throws the pillows to the end of the bed and climbs on top of me, settling between my legs while crouched on his knees. We’re not even touching, but the image of him above me, the heat emanating from his muscular body… I’ve never experienced anything so erotic in my life. “I know I’ve been a fuckboy in the past. But I don’t want to be that guy with you.”

“How do I know that?” I ask honestly.

“Because I’ve never lied to you. I wouldn’t. Even though we haven’t known each other that long, you see me better than anyone else I know.” I’m startled to hear his deep voice waver. “You do know me, Taylor. Trust that.”

He leans in and gently presses his lips to mine. The kiss is soft, unhurried, as if he’s savoring this one perfect moment, just as I am. When he pulls away, I glimpse the lust and naked need in his eyes, the same churning in mine.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “If you’ll let me.”

My body wins over my better judgment. I reach for him, pulling him down for another kiss. I feel him hard against my thigh, and my core clenches in response.

I know he’s as turned on as I am, and yet he stokes the anticipation for longer than I can stand. Kissing me deeply, trapping me beneath him by planting his hands on the bed at either side of my head. I wrap my leg around his hip, trying to draw him closer, to urge him toward…I don’t even know what. Something to ease this ache inside me.

“Touch me,” I whisper against his mouth.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” he asks, dragging his lips down my neck.

I don’t know how to be, I don’t know, sexy. So I use my body to tell him what I need. I wrap my other leg around him and arch my hips, pressing myself against his erection.

The move elicits a groan from Conor, who buries his head in the crook of my neck and thrusts between my thighs.

“When you say you’ve ‘done a little,’ what does that mean?” His warm breath tickles my collarbone as he kisses his way down to my cleavage.

“It means a little.” I rock against his thrusting groin, distracted by the flurry of sensations racing through my body.

“Anyone ever done this?” he asks, and then tugs at the low scoop neck of my dress to expose a bit more of my breasts. He cups them, his thumbs stroking gently.

“Yeah. But not this.” I pull one spaghetti strap off my shoulder to give him greater access, which exposes my nipples.

“Jesus, Taylor.” Conor licks his lips. “I need to taste you.”

My hips rise again. “Please.”

He licks one rigid nipple, then draws it deep in his mouth. The resulting shockwave goes straight between my legs. Holy hell, this feels good. His hot mouth explores my breasts, kissing and sucking and nibbling until I’m writhing with the need for more of him. For him to let me off this hook of taut desire.

He chuckles at my desperation, his hand traveling down my leg, between my thighs. Then he stops. “How about this?” he rasps. “Can I?”

I moan in response, and his fingertips skim my pussy, dancing over my clit. Only one other person has touched me there, not counting my own hand, but Conor’s the first man I’ve let tug on the elastic of my panties and slide them off.

I’m practically naked now, top and bottom exposed, with my dress bunched up around my waist.

Conor regards me with pure hunger in his eyes. “You’re so fucking hot. You have no idea.”

I shift in discomfort, managing a hasty laugh. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” His tongue sweeps out to lick his bottom lip.

“Like that. It’s making me self-conscious.” I try to pull my dress down a little, but he stills my hand, his palm covering my knuckles.

“Taylor.” There’s an intensity in his eyes that I haven’t glimpsed before. “What do you think I see when I look at you?”

A chunky girl in a too-tight dress.

“I’m not sure,” I lie. “But I know you’re not seeing one of those skinny chicks you’re probably used to, with their perfect, toned body.” I awkwardly place a palm over my half-exposed stomach. “See, no abs.”

“Who needs ’em? I’ve got enough abs for the both of us.”

I snicker, but the sound dies when he covers my hand again, this time pushing it away so that his palm is the one on my belly.

“You’re exactly what I want in a woman,” he says seriously, both hands now exploring my body. “Soft and warm…your thighs…your ass…fuck, these hips—”

His fingers curl around said hips, which my incredibly obtuse male GP once described as “more than suitable for child-bearing.”

“Your curves kill me, T.”

Before I can respond, he grabs my hand and presses it directly onto his crotch. There’s no mistaking his arousal.

“Feel how hard I am?” He groans softly. “That’s all you. You’re the stuff of my fantasies.”

He’s either the greatest actor on the planet…or he means every word he’s saying. Either way, my body is responding to his heated gaze and the husky compliments. Cheeks scorching, breasts tingling, pussy aching. If he doesn’t start touching me again, I’m liable to self-combust.

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