The Dare

Page 5

“Damn, T. That’s ice-cold.”

She blinks those forlorn Caribbean-blue eyes at me with a sad pouting lip. Watching her talk, I become obsessed with the Marilyn Monroe beauty mark on her right cheek.

“I didn’t know! Abigail goes through boyfriends like boxes of cereal. I wasn’t keeping up with her love life.”

“So she didn’t take it well,” I say.

“She went apocalyptic. Made a huge scene at the party. Didn’t talk to me for weeks, and then only in snide remarks and insults. We’ve pretty much been mortal enemies ever since, and now she takes every possible opportunity to humiliate me. Hence, tonight’s indecent proposal. She was banking on you turning me down in spectacular fashion.”

Damn. I do feel bad for this girl. Guys are dicks, and even on the team we find all sorts of evil ways to mess with each other, but it’s all in good fun. This Abigail chick is something else. Daring Taylor to pick up a stranger in the hopes that she’d be brutally rejected and embarrassed in front of the entire party…now that’s ice-cold.

An irrational pang of protectiveness starts to throb in my gut. I don’t know much about her, but Taylor doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who would betray a friend so callously.

“Worst part is, before that we were actually friends. She was my closest ally during pledge week freshman year. I almost quit a dozen times, and she’s the one who helped me to stick it out. But after I moved off campus, we sort of grew apart.”

Voices outside the room pull Taylor’s attention. I glance over and frown when I notice shadows move under the door.

“Ugh. That’s her,” she mutters. By now I’ve come to recognize the sound of dread in her voice. She blanches and her pulse visibly thrums in her neck. “Shit, they’re listening.”

I resist the urge to shout for our audience to get lost. If I do that, Abigail and Co. will know that Taylor and I aren’t doing the dirty, otherwise we’d be laser-focused on each other instead of the bedroom door. Still, the nosy little shits need to learn a lesson. And while I can’t solve Taylor’s problem with these girls, I can give her this one night.

“I hope they’re paying attention,” I say with an impish smile.

Then I jump to my knees and put both hands on the top of the headboard. Taylor eyes me with suspicion, to which I just grin again and start thrusting my body, driving the headboard into the wall.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight,” I groan out too loudly.

Taylor slaps her hand over her mouth. Her dark-blonde eyebrows shoot up her forehead.

“You feel so good!”

The wall shakes with every pounding blow against the headboard. I bounce on my knees, making the bedframe squeak in protest. All the necessary noises of a good time.

“What are you doing?” she whispers in amused horror.

“Putting on a good show. Don’t leave me hanging, T. They’re going to think I’m fucking my hand in here.”

She shakes her head. Poor terrified rabbit.

“Ah, fuck, babe, not so fast, you’re gonna make me come!”

Just when I think I might have pushed her too far, Taylor throws her head back, closes her eyes, and lets out the sexiest noise I’ve never heard come out of a woman I wasn’t balls deep inside of.

“Ugh, right there. Right there,” she calls out. “Oh God, I’m so close. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

I lose my rhythm, laughing hysterically. The two of us are beet-red and convulsing on the bed.

“Mmmm, that’s it, babe. That feel good?”

“So good,” she moans back. “Don’t stop. Faster, Conor.”

“You like that?”

“I love it.”


“Oh, yeah, put it in my butt!” she begs.

I collapse and hit my forehead on the fucking headboard. I stare at her, dumbstruck.

“What? Too much?” she asks me, all wide-eyed innocent.

This fucking girl. She’s something else. “Yeah, dial it back a little,” I croak.

But we can’t stop laughing as it gets harder to breathe and we struggle to keep up the lusty moans. After probably way longer than necessary, we finally relent. Still shuddering with laughter, she buries her head in the pillows, bent over with her ass in the air, and suddenly I’m having a hard time remembering why we’re only faking it.

“Was it good for you?” I ask, sprawling out on my back. My hair is damp with sweat and I comb it out of my eyes with my fingers as Taylor comes to lie beside me.

She regards me with a look. One I haven’t seen from her tonight—staring at me under heavy-lidded eyes her lips red and swollen from biting them as she moaned. There’re fathoms behind that mask, fascinating depths I’m becoming more eager to explore. For a fleeting moment, I think she wants me to kiss her. Then she blinks, and the moment’s gone.

“Conor Edwards, you’re a decent guy.”

I’ve been called worse. Doesn’t mean I don’t notice how totally delectable her cleavage looks when she rolls onto her side to face me. “That was the best fake sex I’ve ever had,” I say solemnly.

She snickers.

My gaze sweeps over her flushed cheeks, her flawless, glowing skin. Then it dips to her amazing cleavage again. I know what she’s going to say before I even voice the question, but it slips out of my mouth regardless.

“So, you want to fool around?”









He isn’t serious. I know he isn’t. Propositioning me after our little performance is just Conor’s way of making me feel better about a shit situation. Further evidence that beneath the chin-length blond hair, steely gray eyes, and chiseled body, he has a soft heart. Which is even more reason to get the hell out of here before I catch feelings. Because Conor Edwards is absolutely the guy you fall for before you learn that girls like me don’t get guys like him.

“Sorry, we agreed to a strict no mauling policy,” I say firmly.

He flashes a crooked half-smile that makes my heart skip a beat. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Anyway. It’s been fun,” I tell him, scooting off the bed, “but I should—”

“Hang on.” Conor grabs my hand. A rush of nervous energy shoots up my arm and tingles the back of my neck. “You said you’d owe me a favor, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, wary.

“Well, I’m calling in your marker. We’ve only been up here five minutes. I can’t have people downstairs thinking I don’t know how to show a lady a good time.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Stay awhile. Help me keep my reputation intact.”

“You don’t need me to protect your ego. Don’t worry, they’ll assume you got bored of me.”

“I do get bored easily,” he agrees, “but you’re in luck, T. Boredom is the last thing I’m feeling right now. You’re the most interesting person I’ve spoken to in ages.”

“You must not get out much,” I crack.

“C’mon,” he coaxes, “don’t make me go back downstairs yet. It’s too thirsty down there. All the chicks act like I’m the last steak at the meat market.”

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