“So, you’re a virgin?” I teased, though I was sure he wasn’t.
He sighed. “Seventeen.”
Younger than me. Bet his first kiss had been early, too.
“How was it?”
He chuckled. “Really?”
“I’m a virgin.” I shrugged. “Girls at dance told me their first time sucked. I figured it’s only fair to know how it is for guys.”
Ash crossed his feet at the ankles. “Fair enough. It was good, but not great. The next times were better. He tipped his chin toward me before I could pry further. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
His gaze lingered on my mouth. “Have you ever been kissed?”
Warmth pooled in my stomach. Why was he asking? Did he want to kiss me? If he did, he better not pull away like last time. My heart couldn’t take another rejection. “No. I didn’t want it to be with just anyone.”
Ash tossed back the rest of his drink and reached for the bottle. “Good. I don’t think I could handle knowing another guy kissed you.”
Air deserted my lungs. I prayed my voice wouldn’t shake. “Truth or dare, Ash?”
He locked eyes with me, serious. “Dare.”
I dare you to kiss me.
No. I couldn’t. If he turned me down, no amount of whiskey would erase it. If he wanted to, he’d have to make that move himself.
I took a slow sip, meeting his eyes over the rim of my glass. “I dare you to take off your shirt.”
A smirk curved his lips. “I should’ve known that time in my room wouldn’t be enough for you.”
I snatched a pink throw pillow from the bed and flung it at him.
Ash caught it and set it aside with infuriating calm. He lifted the hem of his tee, smirk widening. “I’ll do it slowly so you can focus, okay?”
“You’re so full of yourself.” I crossed my arms and schooled my face, pretending not to care as he uncovered his abs inch by inch, every bit as deliberately as promised.
By the time he tossed the shirt aside, heat prickled under my skin. Damn it. I should stop drinking.
But it was already too late.
“Truth or dare, peque?”
Two could play this game. “Dare.”
“I dare you to move closer,” he said, his voice low.
I shifted toward him until our thighs brushed. His scent made me dizzier than the whiskey.
“Still too far.” He tugged my hand. “Come here.”
He guided me until I sat between his legs and leaned against him. The room spun—whether from alcohol or the warmth of his body, I couldn’t tell. Probably both.
“I think I’m drunk,” I whispered, resting my head on his shoulder.
He brought my hand to his mouth. Warm lips closed over my fingertips, and my belly clenched.
