Page 71 of Scarred Crown

“High Card seems too messy. Maybe we should go old school?”

“And that would be?” I pass her another shot and take one of my own. If she hasn’t drank in a while, this must already be going to her head.

“Truth or Dare.”

“Seems like a way to get out of the truth, if you ask me.” I tilt my head. “You afraid of the truth, Jules?” My bravado is false because I don’t want it either. I never want to hear her tell me she once cared for Alex enough to cast me aside. Not in this lifetime or any other.

Why did I have to think of him right now?

Her cheeks are pink, and she downs her shot before giving me a haughty look. “I’ll pick truth. I’m not afraid to tell you anything.”

Oh, she’s definitely drunk. I grin. “Favorite sexual position.”

She peers at me for a beat, and her expression is serious instead of embarrassed. “With you?”

My heart booms in my chest, and my dick stands at attention at the thought of us together. I nod because my throat is drier than a desert in the middle of a drought. Yeah, tell me that one, Jules.

“Like this,” she says, rocking her hips. “Me on top. Chest to chest. Face to face. As close as I can possibly get to you, so there’s no question we’re together.”

“Jesus Jules.” My voice is hoarse, and my heart swells while my dick becomes almost unbearably hard. Those words are better than any wet dream I’ve ever had. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine her saying anything close to that to me.

I slide a hand into her hair. My other grips her ass, and then I kiss her. Her shot glass thuds to the floor. She meets my fervor by grinding against me while we tease and taunt each other. We barely come up for air before diving back in.

My breath catches, and I break the kiss to press my forehead to hers. She’s gotta be drunk by now. This isn’t a green light, and I need to get myself under control. The impulse to rip her clothes off and show us both how good it can be pulses inside me, ready to spring free.

“Truth or dare?” She’s breathless.

A distraction. Just what I need. “Truth.”

“What’s your biggest fear?”

That I’ll never get another moment like this again with you. That as soon as we’re back on the island, the two of us will drift away from each other. I reach around her and grab the two shot glasses, buying myself some time. When I pass her one, she tips it back with a grimace.

“I’m getting really drunk.” She giggles.

“You don’t seem too sad to me yet.” I take my own shot.

“I’m not too drunk to realize you didn’t answer my question.”

Then a solution to my fear comes to me, and my tequila brain latches on to it like a life preserver. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “My biggest fear?”

She nods.

“That my father really will arrange a marriage for me.”

“Nick, you know he doesn’t mean it.” She slaps my chest.

“He doesn’t?” I raise my eyebrows. “So why are we on the way home?”

She flushes.

“He promised me he’d only ever use that threat if he meant it.” That’s true, but the context is warped.

“What’s so wrong with marriage?”

“Nothing if it’s to someone I want to marry. You once volunteered to fall on that sword, do you remember?” God, I hope she remembers.

“We were sixteen. I mean…” Her voice trails off, and our gazes connect. We stare at each other for a beat.