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Wide brown eyes assess me before she closes them, taking a deep breath and throwing her hands in the air.
“Oh myGod, why are you here?” she asks, her voice edging on a sob. The tears want so badly to be seen, but she fights to keep them from falling.
Her lips are pressed together as she stares at me with a fury I want to toy with.
But not right now.
“You’re in a tighter bind than I originally understood.” I wish words could hold her, could take the weight from her small frame and carry it all away.
“And you’re even more of an asshole than I originally understood,” she says, setting her jaw as she blinks her unshedtears away. As if she’s preparing to spar instead of being saved. I so badly want to save her and it…confuses me.
I admire the way her words curl from her lips, angry and defiant. I’ve heard her swear more in these last few minutes than in the few times we’ve spoken.
She shoves her way past me, and I’m stuck smelling rosewater, a nostalgic smile on my face.
“Eloise,” I start, turning to follow her.
One look at the smile on my face and her nostrils flare. “Why does the sight of you make me sick to my stomach?”
Why does the sight of you remind me of what it felt like to be inside of you?
I don’t dare say it, deciding I’d rather not get slapped and escorted out by a mob of angry small-towners.
“I’ve got an idea,” I say, watching as this strong woman’s lip trembles as she attempts to control her emotions.
She continues to blink back tears and squares her shoulders.
She has no idea what her inability to succumb to failure does to me.
I imagine pulling her top down and watching her body shiver as I press my lips to her pulse. Perhaps she’d battle me all the way to her inevitable orgasm.
The beautiful bits of her body I’ve seen haunt me, causing me to continue without thought. “I’ll back you. Help this place out financially.”
Desperation has her listening to words she wouldn’t normally.
Her eyes speak of distrust, and I don’t blame her.
Because I’m thinking of all the ways I want to make her scream my name as I step toward her.
“What do you want in return?” She presses her lips together, and I try to keep my focus on our discussion. Because I’m stilltrying to figure out what it is I want. Aside from another glimpse of an exquisite smile from her.
Here we are.
Don’t fuck this deal up.
“Truth or dare?” I ask, waiting patiently as she regards me.
Her face twists and a tear falls. She turns away to attempt to hide it, but the sight of it tugs at my heart. I’m torn between wanting to erase the words I’d said and wanting to wipe the tear sliding down her cheek. Neither are an option, so I continue to wait on her.
“You want to play truth or dare for the bookstore my parents built?” She turns back to glare at me before twisting fully away from me. “Is my life that much of a joke to you?”
“I haven’t been this serious about something in a very long time,” I confess, letting the truth seep into the conversation. Only as much as I think she can handle. “Truth”—I place my hands on her shoulders and turn her to face me again—“or dare.”
Her lips part, her eyes unblinking as she whispers, “Dare.”
I swear my swallow is audible, and I breathe in just enough to push my next words out before I lose my nerve. “I dare you to spend a summer breaking the rules with me. Say yes, follow through, travel, have more amazing sex.”
“If you want to get laid?—”
