Page 95 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“I dare you to kiss—” He pauses, grin stretching. “—for twenty seconds.”
Snapping my head to Riles, she inches back a step, the color draining from her face, her eyes wide, her mouth open. And for the first time since setting foot on stage, she looks ready to give up, leap off it, and run.
I reach for her hand. “Oh no you don’t, sweetheart!”
chapter fifteen
RILES
My face heats to the boiling point, my knees almost giving way.
Did he just say kiss… for twenty seconds? As in kiss, kiss?
The audience roars to life, their cheers deafening. I stare at them, then at Paul, then at Riley, my jaw dropping, my hand shooting up to cover it, and then I shake my head so fast I think I pull a muscle.
Riley steps closer, reducing the distance between us, his eyes on mine, mine unblinking.
Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
How much do I want that damn spa voucher and trophy? Enough to kiss him in front of an auditorium full of people? I try to weigh it up, but I don’t get the chance when he reaches for my face, his hands gentle but strong as they cup my cheeks and guide my lips to his.
The cheering stops. At least, I think it does; I can’t hear it over the thunder of my beating heart. I hold still, hands splayed by my sides, body rigid, eyes locked on his.
Heat surges from my head to the tips of my toes, and they curl of their own accord within my shoes. I gasp ever so slightly, closing my eyes and parting my lips. He releases one hand againstmy cheek, presses it to my back, and holds me to him as his tongue gently sweeps mine. My body awakens, sparks, sizzles like a bomb, effervescent as if a thousand tiny bubbles have burst beneath my skin.
Never in my life have I kissed or been kissed like am right now. These kisses don’t exist except for within the pages of the books I often read. A fantasy. A fairy tale. A fictitious magic trick.
Elevating like a ballerina en pointe, I drape my arms over his shoulders, my fingers climbing his nape until they’re tangled in his hair. My chest tingles against his, my mouth hungry for everything he’s giving me. Every touch, sweet exhale, and gentle sweep of his tongue. I want it all. I want him. I want to twist, turn, climb, and fall.
A deep growl passes his lips, and the hand pressing my back slips to my side, his fingers kneading the soft flesh above my hip as he lifts me from the ground, my feet dangling, my mind counting down like a rocket, ready for take-off.
“Three. Two. One!”
The audience hoots and cheers, and I blink, the countdown not of my body, instead from our spectators.
Panting, I pull away and drop my hands to his chest, staring at his heavy eyes and glistening lips.
Holy peanut freaking butter!
He stares back but releases his grip and gently plants me on my feet again.
“Phoa!” Paul fans his face, and I’m tempted to ask him to fan mine as well. “Does anyone else think it’s hot in here?”
What just happened?
Embarrassment arrests my limbs, and I step away from Riley, side-eyeing him while tracing my lips with my fingertips.
He kissed your damn socks off; that’s what happened.
“Just friends?” Paul quips. “Just. Friends?” He laughs. “Not anymore.”
“Did we win?” I bite out.
“Did we win, she asks.” He gives the brothers a pitiful look. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
Confused, angry… and slightly turned on, I don’t know what to do or say. Do I slap Riley for invading my mouth without permission? Because if anyone else had just done what he did, I wouldn’t hesitate in getting slappy. Do I grab him and kiss him again? Because that was, without a doubt, the kiss of a lifetime. Or do I brush off what just happened? Because we didn’t really have a choice, and it was a game, and I wanted to win, and… and….
Yes, pretend it was nothing. No big deal, right?
