Page 22 of Incipient

I had no idea how I was going to answer this question without calling open season on myself. Of course, I was still in love with him. You don’t just stop loving a person because they died. Sometimes, you don’t even stop loving a person when you fall in love with someone else—something I once thought impossible until it happened to me.

But this truth…it was too much to speak aloud. Too much to explain. Too difficult to revisit. I didn’t have the words to speak my truth to him nor was I confident that he was ready to hear it.

Deciding to take the cowardly way out, I leaned forward and picked up the shot glass.

Trace winced as though my refusal to answer the question physically hurt him. But it was better this way. Better that he didn’t knowwhyI was choosing not to answer. As far as he knew, it could have gone either way. I could be refusing because I did in fact love him and was too scared to tell him so, or because I didn’t love him, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by saying as much to his face. Hopefully, he was hanging onto the latter one.

For both of our sakes.

I stood up and unbuttoned my jeans as Trace’s melancholy gaze flicked up to my waistline. Strobes of hunger lit up his eyes as I dragged the zipper down and then pushed my jeans down over my hips.

Sinking back in his chair, he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth as he fixed his gaze on me like I was some long-buried treasure chest about to be cracked wide open. Feeling emboldened, I shimmied the rest of the way out of my jeans as he ran his hand along his jaw again and cursed, his eyes all but lapping up every inch of my skin.

“Truth or dare?” I asked as I sat back down, crossed my legs and smiled. At least he wasn’t thinking about my answer to his last question anymore.

His eyes climbed up from my bare legs to my eyes, but the transition looked painful, like it took an enormous amount of effort to tear his eyes away. He cleared his throat and examined me for a moment before saying, “Dare.” There was a shiny new plan brewing in his eyes and it looked positively wicked.

I tapped my finger on my chin and thought about it for a moment. I needed to throw him a hardball if for no other reason than to make sure he removed a proper piece of clothing so that I wasn’t the only sitting in my underpants anymore. “I dare you videotape yourself humping the table like a dog and then post it on your social media.” I grinned stupidly because there was no way in hell he was going to do that.

He picked up his phone from the night table and stood up just as my jaw unhinged.

“WHAT?!You have got to be kidding me. There’s no way you’re doing that,” I shrieked incredulously.

“Correct.” Winking playfully, he tossed his phone back onto the table, picked up the shot glass and downed it.

I laughed because he had me going for a hot second, but my laughter quickly died off at the back of my throat as he grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it up over his head, revealing the kind of six pack that wet dreams were made of.

Holy Reaper babies all over the damn place!

I bit down on my lip to keep an excited giggle from bubbling out as I quietly imagined myself running my fingers over his bumps and ridges, tracing his muscles like they’d been carved solely for my viewing pleasure. Obviously, I wasn’t going to do that—I wasn’t a total weirdo—but damn, I really, really wanted to.

Peering a little more closely, I noticed he looked a little thicker and more defined since the last time I’d seen him shirtless. I imagined he’d been working out a lot more. Yeah. I was imagining a lot of things…

“I take it you like what you see?” he asked lowly, his mouth curving up into a cocky grin.

“Huh?” My cheeks immediately burned hot. What the heck had I been doing just then to make him ask me that? Was I grinning stupidly again? Drooling? I quickly licked my lips to make sure no excess saliva was dripping from them. Everything seemed in order, so I just crossed my arms and rolled my eyes, deciding to play it coy. “Whatever, Trace. You know you look good.”

“So that’s a yes then?” he verified and then retook his seat, his gaze smoldering as he refilled the shot glass.

“It’s your turn,” I said, expertly dodging his question. I was so not goingtherewith him, regardless of whatever the heck my face had been doing.

He smiled, his dimples flexing as though he’d just won that round. I supposed if I was being completely honest with myself, he sort of did. “Truth or dare?” he asked.

I thought about it for a quick second. I couldn’t really go for a dare anymore since I literally had no more pieces of clothing to remove. Well, none that would keep me decent. “Truth. And you can’t repeat questions,” I reminded him, just in case he tried playing dirty with me.

Pushing back in his chair, he swiveled it from side to side and then wet his lips. “Did we ever have sex?”

Bloody fucking hell. I immediately felt the heat that had congregated in my cheeks spread all the way down to my chest. Frankly, my whole body felt like it was roasting on thehot seat.

The man was in it to win it.

“No, we never…had sex,” I answered, barely able to finish the sentence without blushing profusely.

He nodded his head. “Good to know.” I couldn’t help but notice the slight frown on his face, though. After a quiet pause, he added, “I guess that’s a good thing.”

My head jerked back. “Not having sex with me is a good thing?” I couldn’t help but feel offended by that. He’d been eyeing me like the jackpot all night and suddenly, he didn’t want to sleep with me?

He smirked, setting off his left dimple. “That’s definitely not what I said,” he objected as the heated look returned to his eyes with a vengeance. “I just meant I’m gladthatwasn’t something I’d forgotten.”

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