Page 50 of The Bully's Dare

“I heard strip poker,” Jason counters as he starts to shuffle. “Who else did?”

“I’m game,” I grin.

“Deal us in,” Donovan says, completing our circle.

As it turns out, Donovan and I suck at poker.

Jason and I have a spark, but Donovan and I share a soul—we have a whole language of eyebrow twitches, squints, and slightly upturned lips. I can read him like a book, and he can read me. Which makes neither of us very good at bluffing each other.

Donovan and I both get down to our underwear. When I have to take off my bra, Donovan gives me a blanket to cover myself with—which Jason says is cheating—but that’s too bad. Meanwhile, Jason has only lost a pair of socks.

Donovan folds and I, finally, manage to get one over on Jason. “Read it and weep,” I tell him, putting down three-of-a-kind.

“Alright, Trouble, you’ve got me.” He reaches behind and yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side.

And just—ouch. He’s so hot it’s physically painful. He’s got that broad, linebacker’s chest, sculpted, and strong. I squeeze my thighs a little tighter to relieve the pulsing presser and turn my attention to shuffling cards instead.

“Uh—yep. That’ll do.”

Donovan gives me a look. He doesn’t have to say anything—we speak without words, and right now, he’s saying: you’re shameless, Kenzi.

Yeah, yeah. I know. But I’m eighteen and a virgin and this is as close as a soft-bellied, splotchy-faced girl like me is going to get to the sun, so he can put up with it for a night.

We go another round, but this time, my luck has turned. I grumble as I turn over my cards—a high seven—and Donovan bursts into laughter.

“Your tell is so bad!” he says.

I scoff. “What tell?”

“You touch your earlobe,” he says and then does it, rubbing his ear between his thumb and finger. “Every time you lie.”

“Ugh. You two suck.” Which is about when I realize: I’m out of clothes to take off. All I have are my panties.

“You don’t have to take them off,” Donovan says, reading my mind. I hear the concern in his voice—he doesn’t want me to feel pressured to strip in front of them.

And this is one of those decisions, right?

Go the safe route. The predictable route. End the game, go home to Pearl and Four, and eventually leave Hannsett Island completely. Maybe forever, if Pearl and Four get divorced before summer comes back around, which is a high probability.

And even if they don’t? Jason is going to college. Donovan and his ship are going who-knows-where. I may never see them again.

I make a decision. I shrug, playing it cool. “Rules are rules.”

Then I remove the blanket, stand from the bench, and move my hands to the band of my panties.

“Wait,” Jason says. Then he crooks his finger. “Come here. A woman should never have to take off her own panties.”

I’m surprised by my own brazenness as I stride forward and stand in front of him. Jason looks up at me and…something shifts in those blue eyes. He looks like he wants to devour me. His hands slip up my legs and he hooks two fingers underneath the sides of my panties. He doesn’t pull them down right away, though—instead, with his eyes still locked on mine, he gently kisses my thigh.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

My throat is so dry with want, I almost don’t have the ability to conjure up words. Finally, I clear my throat and nod. “Yes.”

Jason rolls my panties down my legs. I should feel exposed or shy, but I don’t.

I feel like—maybe for the first time—I’m completely in control.

I straddle Jason’s lap and push my lips against his. He makes a small noise against my mouth, but then I feel his tongue probing, tasting me. His hands slide up my thighs, holding me tightly against him. I can feel the hardness of his denim jeans. The heat of his kiss.

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