Page 60 of A Heart of Bluestone

I sink back into the armchair, eyes wide enough that they might just pop right out of my head. “Wait—”

“No.” Landon is quick to straddle me. His weight drops onto my lap, pinning me down, and his head cocks to the side. “I’ll give you a choice. Kiss, one minute, no tongue.” His cinnamon eyes darken to the deep shade of his complexion, shadows flickering over his stormy face. “Or I forfeit the dare—and I’ll make sure to get all that black vomit out, right here, on you.”

My brow furrows.

Hand too tight around the glass in my clammy grip, I am rigid, so rigid I could pull a muscle just sitting here.

Landon shrugs. “Either way, I’ll aim for your face.”

I don’t get the chance to answer.

I don’t get a moment more than a startled gasp as he swoops down for me.

His hand sweeps around to the nape of my neck where it holds, firm, and I’m fast suffocated.

His mouth is mushed against mine.

It would be a hard kiss if he didn’t have such cushioned lips. There’s no pain behind it.

Still, I’m rigid. And so is he.

There is no enjoyment in this for either of us—just the world’s longest fucking minute, and I feel Dray’s staresearinginto my cheek the whole time, like an ice burn.

“Time,” Asta calls, her voice like chimes.

Landon tugs away from me.

Wide eyed, I watch him go, squeezing down the edge of the coffee table back to his moody, brooding spot on the floor.

As he drops his bum to the floor, he grunts the question at my brother. “Truth or dare?”

I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth.

Oliver has his knee hiked, his forearm rested on the bone of it, and his gaze is downcast to the embroidered rug. Detached or deep in thought, he downs the drink, then tosses the glass aside like it has wronged him.

I almost think he didn’t hear Landon, but then he murmurs, “Dare.”

My brow arches.

But Landon doesn’t seize the opportunity that I expected him to see it as.

He lolls his head back, annoyed, annoyed that he needs to put effort into his thought. Then his lashes flutter, as though struck by the best idea that has ever existed, and he pushes to sit upright.

His grin is lazy, but eyes are alight. “I dare you to get my watch back from Mildred and return it to me.”

A flicker of light passes over the green of Oliver’s eyes.

I recognise it asrelief. But gods know why.

He turns his darkening look on Mildred.

She crosses her strong arms over her chest.

Trousered legs spread, boots firm on the rug, she leans back on the armchair and cocks her brow.

Try it.

That’s what I read on her.

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