Page 24 of The Dare

Stunned, I sit in admiration of his bare back. Tan skin over long, lean muscles. God, I want to press my mouth against that spot between his shoulder blades and explore it with my tongue. The notion sends a shiver running through me. I bite my lip just to keep from making a totally unbecoming noise.

He throws the shirt across the room, then undoes his trousers. They hit the hardwood, and now he’s left in nothing but black socks and boxer-briefs that cling to the tightest butt I’ve ever seen.

“What are you doing?” My voice comes out breathier than I intend.

“Take your clothes off.” He turns around and stalks back to the bed with fierce determination.

“Excuse me?” I scurry on my knees to the far edge of the mattress.

“Get naked,” Conor orders.

“I certainly will not.”

“Listen, Taylor. We’re going to settle this and then there’ll be no more arguments.”

“Settle what, exactly?”

“I’m going fuck your brains out and prove my dick is totally into you.”

Excuse me?

Even as I gape at him, my gaze unwittingly drops to his crotch. I can’t tell if the bulge beneath that stretchy black fabric is a hard-on or just his normal old package. Either way, Conor’s declaration is so preposterous it summons a loud, hysterical bark of laughter from deep in my gut.

Then another.

And another.

Soon I can’t breathe, doubled over in a painful fit. It just won’t stop. Every time I look at his face, a new wave of laughter overtakes me, and tears spill down my cheeks. He’s too fucking much.

“Taylor.” Conor rakes both hands through his hair. “Taylor, stop laughing at me.”

“I can’t!”

“You’re doing irreparable harm to my ego here.”

Gasping, I take deep breaths. Eventually, the laughter subsides to giggles. “Thank you,” I manage to croak out. “I needed that.”

“You know what?” he growls, a cranky scowl on his face. “I take it all back. You’re dick kryptonite.”

“Aww. Come here.” I climb back on the bed and pet the spot beside me.

Instead of being a normal person, he takes it upon himself to lie down and drop his head and shoulders across my lap.

It doesn’t escape me that I now have a sexy man in his boxers draped over me. And it’s difficult to focus with him looking so, well, likethat. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Conor half-naked, and yet the effect is no less impressive. He’s what guys picture in the mirror when they’re lifting weights and mugging for gym selfies. Every douchebag in a tank top thinks he’s Conor Fucking Edwards.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get naked,” he grumbles in accusation.

“I’m sorry. That was a very sweet invitation, but I respectfully decline.”

“Well, that makes you my first.”

Conor stares up at me with those gorgeous gray eyes, and for one fleeting moment an image flashes through my mind. Me, leaning down. Him, cupping the side of my face. Our lips meeting in the space between us…

Do not kiss him, Taylor!

My inner alarm system kicks in, causing my silly schoolgirl kissing fantasy to dissolve just as quickly as it appeared.

“I’m your first what?” I ask, trying to remember what we’re talking about. Conor Edwards isin my lapand it’s really quite distracting.

---