Page 79 of How to Lose at Love

“That’s it?”

I shrug. “Yes. That’s what I was thinking when I met you. What did you expect? It was cold and I wasfreezing.”

Dallas grabs yet another truth card. “If your partner kissed you, would you kiss them back?” He tosses the card to the bedspread. “Yes.”

I shiver, averting my eyes, not wanting to look at his arms or collarbone or the muscles on his chest that are visible because of his loose tank top.

Shit.

I try to shift the focus by taking a dare card, feeling bold and brave and reckless.

“Write something embarrassing that only your partner knows about in a spot on your body that can be hidden with clothing.”

“Ooo, nice one,” Dallas croons, sitting up straighter on the bed. “Markers are in the desk drawer.”

“Fine,” I huff, rising from the bed and pulling open his desk drawer, confident he’s getting an eyeful of ass right now. Bend a bit to make him squirm.

I tap that marker against my cheek, debating my options, an angel and a devil looming on my shoulders, each whispering in my ear.

Be good.

Write something sexy he won’t stop thinking about…

Be good.

Write something naughty…

Back to Dallas, I bend my neck, uncap the marker. Push down the elastic waistband of my skimpy underwear and write KISS ME right above my pussy. Then, I add a tiny arrow pointing downward.

Pull my underwear up to cover the words.

Recap the marker. Set it back on the desk before slowly turning toward him.

“Done.”

I dust off my hands, unable to keep the smirk off my face as I rejoin him on the bed.

“Aren’t you gonna show me?”

His massive body is lying on its side, head resting in his hand, arm and elbow propping his head up so he can watch me.

Should I show him or will it lead to no good?

seventeen

dallas

“Sixty-nine percent of all people find something dirty in every sentence.”

– Drake Colter

“Aren’t you gonna show me?”

“Show you?” She’s feigning ignorance; Ryann knows damn well what I want to see.

“You playin’ dumb, Winters? So unlike you.”

“Why would I bother showing you what I wrote? It’ll only torture you.” She winks, hair spilling over her shoulders and covering the sight of her hard nipples, the outlines of which I’ve had the privilege of trying not to gawk at since she pulled that shirt on. “Though my goal is to torture you.”