“Truth or dare.”
“Truth,” Fallon bit out.
“Truth,” Shane repeated, his hooded scrutiny piercing, glittering. “Last night you asked what if all you wanted from me was to f*ck? No strings, just sex. Was that true? Do you just want to be…taken?”
She should lie. Self-preservation—the same defense mechanism that had been off the clock when she’d kissed him all those years ago—shouted to deflect, pass the outburst off as an impetuous taunt. To save herself from further humiliation. But the same need and dangerous lick of anticipation curled in her chest, her belly, compelling her to leap.
And damn the fall.
“I know why you believe getting involved with me would be the height of lunacy. Addy, I’m her best friend. It could get messy. Not to mention that you think I’m reckless, irresponsible. I’m aware of what you want for your life. The family, wife, the American dream. I even understand why. But what you don’t understand is that’s not my dream. You want to know what is my dream?” she whispered. “To be that woman under you. To be spread wide and covered. To be held down, touched, filled until I can’t take anymore. And then have you prove me wrong.” She curled her fingers into the couch beside her thighs, her heart thumping behind her sternum like a rabbit late for tea. “I don’t want forever. I never did… I just want right now.”
Except for the small tic jumping along his tightly clenched jaw, he didn’t move. Not one muscle. But those eyes… How could she have ever thought of them as cold, aloof? Molten. And with a searing intensity that spoke of the previous night when she’d crawled on the bed and took him into her mouth.
“Truth or dare,” she whispered. If possible, the inner fire in his gaze blazed brighter.
“Truth,” he uttered, that silk and gravel voice eliciting a shiver over her skin.
“If you could kiss me anywhere on my body right now, where would it be?”
He didn’t reply, and for a devastating moment, her heart seized. She’d pushed too far, too fast. Stupid…again.
“Forget—” She held a hand up as if she could stop the eminent rejection.
One moment he imitated a statue on the couch, and in the next he loomed over her, forcing her to lean back. His palms pressed the cushions on either side of her shoulders, caging her between the sofa and big body. She regarded him, stunned into silence. His wide frame blocked out the room, so all that existed for her was him. His burning gaze, the carnal curves of his lips, the lust stamped on his hard, gorgeous features. The broad expanse of his shoulders and chest, the corded strength of his thighs as he herded closer.
“Your mouth,” he purred like a powerful, rumbling predator, slipping free of his holster and setting it on the cushion. “You sucked me to heaven last night. Seeing your lips wrapped around my cock”—his eyes briefly closed before opening and snagging her again—“prettiest sight I’ve ever seen. I had to fight not to come the second you took me in.” He brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. Pressed it so her teeth lightly abraded the tender skin on the inside. “But you’ve had me in your mouth, and I haven’t even kissed you. That’s a tragedy. A crime. You deserve more honor than that.”
attempt at writing a romance novel at 11 never saw the light of day, her love of romance and writing has endured. Now, she spends her time creating stories of unique men and women who experience the dizzying heights of passion and the tender heat of love. She is the wife to Superman – or his non-Kryptonian, less bullet proof equivalent – and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, domestically-challenged bliss in the southern United States.