“You won’t.” His breath burns against my skin. “Because losing means I stop touching you.”
My heart stutters.
“What’s the first dare?” I ask, voice almost a whisper.
His smile finally shows, wolfish and obscene. “Take off your dress. Right here in the hall. Nice and slow. And don’t look away from me while you do it.”
His dare hangs in the air like smoke. My dress suddenly feels too tight, the hem burning against my thighs.
“You’re insane,” I murmur.
He doesn’t blink. “You’re stalling.”
I should walk away. I should laugh it off. But my fingers betray me, slipping to the zipper at my hip. The sound is a whisper in the hallway—sharp, metallic, obscene.
“Slower,” he orders, voice rough enough to scrape bone.
So I go slower. Tugging the zipper tooth by tooth, watching his eyes narrow as the fabric loosens over my skin.
When it finally drops to the floor, pooling at my ankles, I’m standing in nothing but nerve endings.
He tilts his head, a predator studying prey. “Good girl. Dare two—” He drags his thumb across his lower lip, like he’s tastingme already. “Touch yourself. Right here. Hands where I can see them.”
My breath catches. “Someone could wake up?—”
“She won’t. And even if she did…” His grin cuts deep. “Wouldn’t that make it filthier?”
My pulse roars. But I can’t look away. My hand trembles as it trails down my stomach. Heat licks up my thighs, shame and want clawing at each other until I’m not sure which is winning.
He leans back against the wall, watching me unravel like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. “That’s it. Let me see how desperate you get when it’s not my hand inside you.”
“God, you’re cruel,” I whisper.
“And you’re still obeying.”
My body betrays me with a gasp. My knees almost give out. He chuckles low in his throat. “Dare three—stop.”
I freeze, trembling, teeth sinking into my lip.
“Beg,” he says.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Dean—”
“Say it,” he growls, stepping in until his chest almost brushes mine. “Beg me to let you keep touching what’s mine.”
My voice shatters on the words. “Please, Dean. Please let me touch your pussy.”
His eyes darken like a storm in water. “Better. Dare four—” His hand snakes into my hair, yanking my head back until my throat is bared. “Tell me one thing you want me to do to you tonight.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out. Heat, fear, ache—everything collides until I don’t know what’s left of me.
“Say it,” he urges, tugging harder, that sadistic grin eating me alive. “Be a good girl and confess how you want me.”
The hallway hums around us, thick with silence and danger. My throat is still caught in his grip, head tilted back, body wired like live electricity.
