Stay(42)

“No!” She grabs my arm as I start to get up, pulling me down again. “We can’t play strip chess in our underwear! We’ll be naked before the game even starts.”

“It’ll be naked chess.” I arch an eyebrow, lifting her fingers to my lips. “I like it.”

She takes her hand back. The pizza is gone, and she studies my face. “New game… Truth or dare.”

My lip curls. “Lame. Everybody plays truth or dare.”

“It’s a classic getting to know you game. We should get to know each other better.”

“I prefer strip chess.” I put a hand on her smooth calf and slide it up to her knee. “It’ll help us get to know each other better.”

“I’d have you naked in two moves.”

“I’d have you naked in one.” My eyes level on hers, and heat smolders between us.

She slides off the couch onto the rough sisal. “I’d like to know you better clothed first.”

Looking down at her pretty legs on the scratchy rug, I grab a large cushion from the corner and toss it to her. “Sit on this.”

“Such a gentleman!” She stands, rearranging my robe, and tightening the belt. “You’ll have me spoiled.”

“Clearly I’m a pushover. You have me playing Truth or Dare… Who goes first?”

“Flip a coin.” We both look around. Coming up empty, she grabs a black pawn and a white pawn, and holds them behind her back. “Pick one and the color.”

I tap her left shoulder. “Black.”

She brings her palm around, and it’s the black pawn. I laugh, pointing at her. “I go first.”

“So competitive, Mr. Hastings.”

“You know it, Mrs. Hastings.” The sound of that gives us both a moment’s pause. Emmy exhales a laugh, and I continue with the question. “Truth or Dare?”

She leans back, studying my face. I’ve got so many wicked ideas for sexy dares. I’m sure she can tell, because she shakes her head at me quickly and says, “Truth.”

I start to speak, and she interrupts. “No… Dare. I mean dare.”

Even better. I try to decide which I want to make her do first. Naked handstand? Masturbate in front of me? Send me a nude selfie?

She jumps in again. “Truth! I’m sorry. I want to do Truth.”

I place my hand gently on her arm. “I know you were pretty sheltered growing up, but you can only pick one.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and makes a little noise. “I don’t trust you! Okay, okay. Truth. I’ll stick with truth.”

I pretend to be offended. “What have I done to make me so untrustworthy?”

“Seriously?” She gives me a look that makes me chuckle.

“Okay, truth. Are you ready?”

She blinks fast, and pulls her knees up. “I don’t know.”

“Get ready. This was your idea. I just wanted to have sex all weekend.”

Her eyes roll. “Just ask already.”

“Why do you hate me?”





17





Emmy


The words hang in the air, and my mind flies back ten years to my humiliation in Ethan’s guest bath. Stephen was such a jerk. He walked out like I was any other disposable party girl…

Good luck in school. I was so shattered.

“Next question!” I reach for my champagne and take a long sip. I need it to kill this ache in my chest—this ridiculous ache that has resurrected from the dead for some stupid reason. I do not care about Stephen Hastings.

“That’s not how it works. You can’t pass on a question.”

“I just did.”

“Okay, if you want to pass…” His eyes glide down my neck to my breasts, and I swear, I can feel it on my skin. “You have to remove one item of clothing.”

For a moment, I consider this. “Seems fair.” I scoot to the side and reach under the robe, under my slip, removing my thong underwear.

Stephen’s eyebrow arches, and he laughs in that low, rich way he does. It makes my insides tighten. My insides need to grow up.

“My turn.” I shift around again, getting comfortable. “Why are you such an arrogant jerk all the time?”

“Please don’t spare my feelings.” He feigns offense, but his cocky smirk is firmly in place.

“Just like that.” I point at him, squinting one eye. “Inside your head, you’re being one right now.”

“You know nothing about the inside of my head, Emmy Barton Hastings.”

“Then educate me.” I put an elbow on the cushion, keeping my eyes fixed on his. “What makes you think you know more than everyone else?”

“Easy.” He taps my nose lightly with his finger. “I do.”

“That is not an acceptable answer.”

“But it’s the answer. Half the world is ignorant. The other half hasn’t read as much as I have or they don’t pay attention. Or they don’t care, which is worse.”

I drop back against the coffee table. “What makes you think you’re better than everyone else?”

“That’s two questions, cheater. But I’ll answer it. I don’t.”