Page 112 of Bitter Truths

One corner of Tristan’s mouth quirks upward. “Last time you wanted to play a game, we ended up hard and haunted for half a decade.”

A real laugh bubbles up. “I know the feeling.”

They all chuckle.

Freddie drags a hand down his face, shaking his head with a soft groan. “God. That day ruined me.”

Weller’s eyes drag over me, like he’s remembering the way his mouth felt against mine. I cross my legs under the table and pretend it’s not affecting me.

Owen shifts beside me, his thigh brushing mine under the table. His smile curves, all teeth and no warmth. “You’re not doing that to us again, Princess.”

I push my plate aside, and my skin hums under their attention. “I was thinking Truth or Dare.”

“Jesus.” Owen’s eyes darken with hunger despite his muttered protest.

“Is the big alpha scared of a little game?” I tilt my head, letting the challenge curl through my voice.

His thigh presses harder against mine, and his scent spikes, hot and wild. A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Never.”

“I’m in.” Tristan’s fingers are laced behind his head, gaze dragging over me.

We clear the table and fall into a loose circle. I sink into the couch, Freddie settles beside me, Tristan claims the armchair like a throne, and Owen and Weller drag over chairs from the dining table. The air shifts with us. What was heavy turns electric, sharp with anticipation. Every breath feels like it might spark.

“Who starts?” Freddie glances at me, his fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. Nervous energy rolls off him in waves.

“Bianca.” Tristan’s voice is silk cut with teeth. “Her idea. Her move.”

I consider each alpha in turn, weighing my options. “Tristan. Truth or dare.”

His smile curves slow and dangerous. It hits me low, flipping my stomach. “Dare.”

I tap a finger against my bottom lip, drawing out the pause until I feel them all leaning closer, just a little.

“I dare you to go down to the lobby and ask for a plunger, condoms, and whipped cream. Tell them it’s for a special celebration.”

His laugh is quiet, dark. “Easy.”

Owen barks a laugh. Weller looks at Tristan like he’s already calculating how long it will take before the front desk calls security.

Ten minutes later, he returns triumphant, condoms in one hand, whipped cream and plunger in the other. His satisfied smirk tells me everything. “They didn’t blink. My turn. Owen, truth or dare.”

“Truth.” Owen crosses his arms over his broad chest, the fabric of his shirt straining against muscle.

“Coward.” Tristan’s lips curl with mockery. “How many times did you get off to that bikini picture Bianca sent?”

I gasp, heat flooding my face. “I thought you were joking about that!”

The playfulness evaporates as Owen’s jaw works, the cords in his neck standing out as he swallows. When his eyes find mine, the hunger there steals my breath.

“Too many to count.” His voice drops to a rumble.

I can’t decide if I’m mortified or flattered that a photo of my fucking swimsuit was enough.

“Weller. Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“What would you do if Bianca decided to disappear again?”