Chapter 18 Truthdare? – Koen
TRUTH OR DARE?
KOEN
Then…
Summer is right around the corner and it’s a warm night; clear, the perfect night for riding.
I take us through the nonsensical, winding roads of the city, turning the bright city lights into streaks of red and gold.
Driving way too fast, seeing just how far I can push it—push her, but she just clings on tighter, my t-shirt fisted in her fingers, she’s loving it.
As I take a sharp curve, I shout for her to hold on, having to lean deep into the curve in order to clear it. The pavement rises up to greet us, and I’m expecting a scream, but instead I get laughter.
She’s laughing.
The wind picks up as I take her over the Longfellow bridge, the city lights sparkling in the Charles River beneath us.
Her hands disappear from my waist; she lets go of me, stretching her arms out wide.
Holding them out to either side of her like she’s flying, tipping her head back while she laughs wildly.
I’m careful to keep the bike steady, catching a glimpse of her in my mirror, visor up, blue eyes sparkling, reflecting the glow of the city lights around us.
That laugh turns to shouts of excitement just as fireworks illuminate the sky high above the river.
Rose’s hands come back to my waist and I take us down to a secluded little spot I know, pulling to a stop right beside the river.
“Wow,” she says, taking off her helmet and staring up at the bright lights exploding through the night sky.
I ignore the fireworks, choosing instead to watch her.
“Lucky timing,” she says with a smile, looking up at me.
A little smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “Maybe not luck.”
Her blue eyes flash with surprise. “You knew?”
I shrug like it’s no big deal, even though it is. I don’t even know this girl, yet she’s got me unbalanced, doing things I never thought I would do.
She stares up at me and I notice how close she is.
I study her face, memorizing every little detail.
Rose is all soft contrasts; long, dark lashes frame eyes the color of the summer sky; a faint scattering of freckles decorate her cheeks.
Her dark hair falls in loose waves down her back, a deep, dark shade of brown that you might mistake as black when the light shifts.
It makes me wonder how it would look wrapped around my fist.
And then there are her lips—soft and full—and I’m reminded how they felt on mine. The taste of her still lingers on my tongue, and like the sweetest of drugs, I crave more. Need more. I lean in, wanting to kiss her again.
But she pulls away, forcing me to stop. My jaw clenches and I look up. She’s not looking at me, her eyes are in the direction of the fireworks but I know she’s not watching them. There’s a newfound tension in her body and I know she’s watching me—my reaction—from the corner of her eye.
Her rejection was quiet, subtle, just enough of a reminder that she’s not mine. I don’t get to kiss her whenever I want. I shrug it off, sliding my hands into my pockets, but I’d be lying if I said her rejection didn’t sting worse than a gunshot wound.
I keep my eyes on the sky overhead. The crackle and boom of the dynamite does nothing to soften the tense silence stretching between us.
“Do you want to play a game?” The sound of her soft voice surprises me and I glance down.
“Do you want to play a game?” she repeats when I don’t answer her.
My eyebrows lift. “A game?”
“It’ll be fun.” She smiles, nodding, trying to convince me.
“I don’t like games.” My tone is harsher than I mean it to be but I stand by it, crossing my arms across my chest.
“Truth or dare?” she continues, as if she hasn’t heard me.
“Isn’t that a game for kids?”
“Depends on how you play.” Her eyes sparkle and she bats those thick eyelashes of hers. Is she flirting with me?
“Truth.”
She rolls her eyes. “Coward.”
My eyes narrow on her. “Careful, little Rose.”
Her answering smirk tests the boundaries of my restraint.
“What’s your biggest regret?”
“I don’t have one,” I can say without hesitation. And I don’t. I stand by every decision I’ve made. I own them.
“C’mon, everyone regrets something.”
“Not me,” I insist, shaking my head.
She frowns, while at the same time her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Well, if you can’t answer the question, you have to do a dare. Those are the rules.”
“I don’t think that’s the—”
“It is.” She nods assertively, taking a small step toward me. Her eyes are locked on mine, stunning me into silence.
“And I suppose you get to decide what that dare will be, little Rose?” My voice is dark, and danger swirls in it. If she thinks she’s going to make me do something humiliating…
“Kiss me.”
I tense, my gaze snapping to her in surprise. Is this her idea of a joke? I just tried to kiss her minutes earlier and yet, she’d rejected me. My brow furrows, and I search her face. She’s serious, all joking gone from her eyes, leaving behind only steady resolve.
“I dare you to kiss me,” she says again, blue eyes locked on mine, unblinking. And then she licks her lips, and she not only has my attention, but the attention of my cock as well.
When I don’t move, when I do nothing but stare down at her, she opens her mouth to speak again but hesitates when she sees me take a step forward.
I lean in slowly. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t turn away, though her breath quickens right as my lips hover over hers, kissing her gently, carefully, waiting to see if she’ll push me away.
When she doesn’t, I deepen the kiss, my hand going to the nape of her neck to bring her closer.
A soft exhale escapes her lips, a whimper or maybe—a moan?
The small sound travels straight to my cock and it’s all the invitation I need.
My restraint shatters and I crush my lips to hers, exploring every inch of her mouth, my fingers curling into her hair.
It’s soft, silky, and I grab a fist full of it, tugging down to bring her face up higher.
My other hand circles around her neck, holding her still, a possessive urge I can’t justify taking over.
I release her lips, looking down, certain to find a flash of fear or anger in her eyes.
But instead, she melts against me, like putty in my hands.
‘Oh, little Rose, you’re playing a dangerous game.” I squeeze my hand—the one around her throat—a little tighter. “My turn.”