Page 9 of Beards and Holly

“I don’t even know what that is, and I’m sure my past dates would disagree with you, but the funniest part about all that is…” She pauses for a second and bites her lip at me, a lip I suddenly want to bite so fucking bad. I bet she tastes like peppermint or sugar cookies. “No, I shouldn’t tell you.”

“Well, now, you have to tell me,” I say, finishing the last of my beer. She’s been nursing one, too, and moves to the fridge to grab two more. I realize this game we’re playing makes talking to her easier, but then again, I was the one purposely making things harder because I thought she couldn’t handle a no-strings clause in our agreement. Now, I’m starting to think I was wrong, and oh what fun it might be to cross the merry little line with her. To have her under me, begging me to fuck her. I would lick that sweet pussy of hers for hours just to torture her the way she does me with that constant sassy mouth.

“Truth or dare?” I say, hoping another game might help her feel more comfortable telling me what’s on her mind.

Holly rolls her eyes, knowing exactly what I’m doing, but she’s smiling like she enjoys the challenge. “Truth.”

“Tell me the truth, Holly. What is it you don’t think you should tell me? I promise you should.”

Her laugh is menacing. “You make it sound sexy. I assure you it’s not. I have a Grinch costume.”

“So what you’re telling me is, the nickname you’ve been calling me all this time is someone you actually love.”

The thought goes straight to my cock, and I’m so hard the zipper of my jeans cuts into me. When I came over tonight, this is the last thing I expected, but I’m having fun.

She doesn’t answer me directly. Instead, she challenges me as she always does.

“Truth or dare, Jenson?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Holly

“Dare,” he says.

I take a heavy gulp of my beer. It’s my third one of the night, and it’s got me feeling brave.

“I’ll be right back,” I say with a smile.

Running up to my bedroom closet, I grab the costume hanging there then head back down, laughing the whole way. I catch the attention of Gizmo, who comes over to see what I’m carrying.

Jenson instantly cracks up into full belly laughs I’ve never seen from him. As a matter of fact, it’s the first genuine joy I’ve ever seen from him. Gone is the cocky demeanor. All that’s left is vulnerable Jenson with no cares in the world. It’s as if his heart grows in size as I pass over the green costume. He takes it from my hands, seeming to be just as excited to wear it as I am to see him in it, but that can’t be true. My stoic neighbor does arrogant well, but never carefree. This side of him is almost intoxicating.

“You’re on,” he says then makes his way to my guest bathroom.

He changes quickly, coming out and striking a very Jim Carrey as the Grinch pose, and now, it’s my turn to belly laugh.

“Does this make my butt look big?” he asks in a funny voice, turning to wiggle his fluffy butt at me.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I’m rendered speechless as I crack up.

“It’s givingEmily in Paris,” he says, striking another pose with his hand on his hip.

Then another as he struts and says, “See how I walk. Very mindful. Very demure. I’m not like other girls. I’m presentable, very cutesy.”

At this point, I’m toppling over, holding my stomach, laughing so hard it hurts. Meanwhile, Gizmo freaks out and barks at him.

Jenson scoffs. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He turns and stomps back to the bathroom, leaving the two of us to find our bearings. By the time he returns, I’ve wiped away my tears and grabbed two more cold beers and settled on the couch. Gizmo is snuggled up by my feet and has decided it’s his bedtime. The hour is late, and I’m sure Jenson will want to head home.

“Alright, truth or dare, Jolly Holly,” he announces, coming to sit next to me on the couch. Very close to me on the couch. So close his leg brushes up against me as he leans down to pet his sleeping puppy.

I roll my eyes but find myself pleased he’s obviously staying. Not only that, but his playful vulnerability is, too. It makes me wonder if he’ll let me get to know him. This version of him isn’t the snarky guy, who grumbles at my holiday decor and anything I say or do, for that matter. I like this version so much better.

“Truth.”

“Oh, come on. Live a little. You scared of a dare or something? I’ll take it easy on you.”

Something in his grin dares me to be bold.

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