Page 71 of Without a Trace
The room went still.
His expression didn’t budge.
“Truth or dare?” I asked, voice dripping sugar and gasoline.
Trace stared at me for a long, loaded second. “Dare.”
I tilted my head. “You sure about that?”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Try me.”
My smile was slow. Sharp. “Kiss someone in this room. But not me.”
Lena choked while Sloane whispered, “Oh my fucking god.”
Alden didn’t move. A flicker of something dangerous sparked behind his eyes.
Trace’s gaze stayed locked on mine. His fists clenched at his sides.
“No?” I said, all innocence. “I thought you were brave.”
His lips parted. Then he turned—walked across the circle—and kissed Sloane.
It wasn’t long. Wasn’t soft, either.
Just enough to scorch the whole fucking room.
Sloane sat frozen, one hand over her mouth.
“What the hell is happening?” Lena whispered.
I spun the bottle again before anyone could breathe. It landed on Kane.
“Truth or dare?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”
“Pick someone and describe—in detail—how you’d fuck them.”
Everyone groaned. Sloane full-on shrieked.
Kane grinned. “Scarlett.”
Of course.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’d start with your neck. Slow. Let you squirm. Get your shirt open—button by button—make you beg before I even touched you.”
Lena hid behind a pillow. Rhett was wheezing while Alden looked like he was about to kill something.
Trace stood, frozen. But his glare could’ve burned down the fucking lake.
“And then?” I asked, voice too casual.
Kane grinned wider. “You don’t want me to say.”
“Oh, I do.”
Sloane made a strangled noise. “Okay, we need rules.”
