Page 105 of The Venom We Bleed

His square-cut jaw tenses for a brief second. I expect him to raise the glass to his lips and deny me once again. When he relaxes a moment later, I lean forward. "Because," he says, "knowing could get you into trouble you're not ready for. Besides, it's none of your business."

"Oh, but my life is yours?" I arch a brow. "That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

Full, masculine lips curve upward. "Just a bit," he admits. "Now, you. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

His eyes widen and I grin.

“What? Did you think I’d keep playing it safe?”

Gio shakes his head, but his smile doesn’t leave his face. “If anything, I’d say choosing ‘dare’ is safer than truths,” he argues. “But if you want to puss out, then...”

I scowl and flip him my happy middle finger, earning a deep, vibrating chuckle. The sound of his laughter fills the quiet room, reminding me that the two of us are alone here and I’ve already proved to myself how stupid I can get when it comes to these men.

“Take your shot, Prep Girl,” Gio says gesturing to the shot glass perched on my thigh.

My brows draw down. “What? Don’t think I’ll do the dare?” I will. No matter what it is—just to prove that I’m not a chicken shit.

Gio stares back at me, our eyes colliding. Both of us refuse to look away now that we’re locked in place. “I don’t think you’re ready for the dare I have for you.”

“Try me.”

Liquid gold and bronze swirl in the depths of his gaze. His pupils dilate and I don’t think I need to look down to know that he’s hard as a rock.What will it be?I silently challenge him.Are you going to dare me, Playboy?

Slowly, Gio sets his shot glass on the TV tray and leans across the mattress. His fingers come out and pluck the shot glass from my leg. “You want me to dare you?” he asks.

I tip my head back as he comes over me, hovering closer and closer. My heart rate kicks up a notch. “Do you needmeto dareyou?”

That chuckle of his makes a second appearance and he reaches up, cupping my chin in his massive paw of a hand. I forget, sometimes, how much bigger he is than me. Maybe it’s because when he’s surrounded by Lex and Nolan, he appears smaller—shorter. The fact is, though, that Giovanni Vargas is built like the linebacker he is. Athletic. Ripped with muscle and corded with strength.

Gently nudging my head back, he stares down at me and it takes me a second to realize that he’s not gazing into my eyes but at my lips. “Open your mouth, Prep Girl,” he whispers. Instinct has me automatically pressing my lips together and one corner of his mouth twitches upward. His eyes flash to mine. “Unless you’d rather I forget about the dare.”

“Not a chance.” The moment the words pass my lips and he responds with a wide grin, I realize how easily I fell for his trap. It’s too late now though.

Gio urges my head back even more and then lifts my shot to his lips. He sucks the contents back and my brow furrows in confusion just before he tightens his hold on my jaw and dips his head. I part my lips in time for his own to do the same. Tequila flows from his mouth into mine, sliding like fire down my tongue and to the back of my mouth in one long, continuous stream. I swallow automatically and when it’s all gone, we stay there like that for a moment more. Our lips barely brushing but no kiss passing between us.

Gio sits back, his hand easing as I’m freed from his grasp. “Truth,” he says before I can ask the question.

I eye him, and I have to wonder who the real chicken shit is here. Him or me?

Over an hour later, the two of us are laid out flat on Nolan’s bed, the bottle of tequila between us. What had once been a full glass container is now precariously low and the room is spinning. I lift my hand to the ceiling, staring at my fingers as I try to count them.

An indelicate snort escapes my lips, and I drop my arm back to the bed when I get to eight. That’s funny. I didn’t think I had eight fingers on one hand. How’d I go my entire eighteen years without realizing that?

“What?” Gio asks. Even though I know he’s had just as much alcohol as I have, he doesn’t sound nearly as drunk as I feel.

A giggle bursts out and the next thing I know, Gio is sitting up and staring down at me. I clamp a hand over my mouth but more laughter spews forth.

"The hell is wrong with you?" he demands.

I can't help it. My eyes start to water and I have to pinch my nose shut to stop myself. Only that doesn't work as well as myintoxicated mind seems to think it will and a snort rockets out. Suddenly, I'm covered from head to toe by a massive, bulky body. Fingers find my wrist and peel my hand away. Gio glares down at me as tears leak from the corners of my eyes, sliding towards my hairline.

He sways in front of me, and a second—more transparent—version of Gio hovers a bit to the side. "There are two of you," I say, or at least that's what I try to say. It comes out as something more like 'thar ssss twoovve you'. How many shots had I taken?

"Jesus Christ." Gio shakes his head. "You're fucking trashed, aren't you?"

I roll my shoulders in a shrug. "Might be." I'm totally trashed because I'm not even bothered by the fact that Gio Vargas is crouched on top of me, both of his thighs encasing mine.

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