The Best Kind of Forever (Riverside Reapers, #1)(28)

“Thank you, Hayes. I-I want to be able to open up to you; I’ve just been hurt in the past.”

She’s been hurt in the past? Look, I have no idea what dickmuppet broke her heart, but if I find him, I have no problem giving him a one-way ticket to the ICU. Aeris isn’t even technically mine, but I already feel this possessiveness over her that scares me.

“I’m so sorry, Aeris,” I say, and it feels like the air has gone cold around me.

She shrugs away from my hand. “It’s okay. I just don’t really want to talk about it.”

I rest my arms in my lap, though I’d much rather be holding her. “That’s okay. What do you want to do?”

And then she looks at me, and those whiskey-colored eyes drop to my lips.

“I want to kiss you,” she breathes.

All my blood rushes south, and my dick twitches against the grain of my jeans. As much as I want to kiss her right now, I know her emotions are all over the place, and the last thing I’d ever do is take advantage of her.

“Let’s rediscuss that kiss when you’re feeling better, yeah?”

A disappointed frown makes its debut, but she nods in agreement.

I cup both sides of her face, pulling her into me so I can kiss her forehead, and then I walk out of her house with a renewed sense of hope humming in my bones.





15





DRINK OR DARE





AERIS





Drink or Dare: a rite of passage for twenty-somethings, and a surefire way to get drunk.

Or: a fool’s way into spilling their guts.

When Hayes told me that we were going to hang out with the guys tonight, I was expecting a movie and some snacks, but nothing this hardcore.

“Guys, this is Aeris. Aeris, these are the guys,” Hayes introduces us.

I wave awkwardly to the room full of ripped, intimidating hockey players. I was nervous to meet them before, but now I’m one ill-timed comment away from panicking.

“Hi, Aeris,” they say in unison, like they’re greeting a newcomer at an AA meeting.

Josette—Casen’s girlfriend—was going to join us, but she had to work late tonight, so it’s only me in a house full of six guys.

“So you’re the girl who has our boy pussy-whipped,” Gage says, making the color in my cheeks deepen.

Hayes flips him off, but he’s wearing a matching blush.

The coffee table is lined from end to end with red solo cups, a dare on the bottom of each one. If you get a dare you refuse to do, you have to drink.

Everyone’s gathered around in a sort of football huddle, and the seriousness on each of their faces has me already regretting whatever stomach-turning ride I’m about to embark on.

Gage eyes everyone up and down like he’s a lion gauging the weakest gazelle in the herd. “You guys all know how this works. Remember: no dares will be completed without consent from the other party, if necessary.”

“So, who wants to go first?” he asks, mischief curling around his words.

Oh, God. Kill me now. Have my cart go off the tracks in some Final Destination-esque death scene.

Kit doesn’t even look fazed when he volunteers himself. He picks up the cup situated farthest from him, holding it over his head so he can glance at the dare.

“Give a lap dance to someone of your choosing. Clothes optional,” he reads, the mirth in his eyes ascending to dangerous levels.

Most of the faces around the circle look curious, but a few are fearful. I don’t blame them. I’d be terrified if I was on the receiving end too. And Kit doesn’t strike me as the type to back down from a dare.

No, no, no. I’m the only girl in the entire group. Please don’t pick me. Please. Don’t. Pick. Me.

The second Kit looks at me, a low rumble comes from Hayes’ chest.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growls, eliciting unfettered laughter from the group, and Bristol and Casen seem to share some kind of complicit look with each other.

Kit holds his hands up in surrender. “Your girl is safe, H.”

Your girl.

That doesn’t sound half bad.

Warmth pumps through me at the term of endearment, my breath and heart boxing it out in the ring of my ribs.

“Are all of these dares sexual?” I whisper to Hayes.

Hayes flashes me that trademark grin of his. “God, I hope not.”

The arrogance in his tone isn’t a good sign, but neither is the heat pooling between my legs. Thank you, Hayes’ stupid audiobook narrator voice. Why does he have to be irresistible all the time? And why am I hoping that I get a dare just as sexual as Kit’s?

Look, we’ve kissed, but we haven’t done a lot of sexual stuff with each other yet. It’s not that I don’t want to—trust me, I do—but I only want to initiate it if he makes it clear he’s on board.

“Fully, do you give me consent to give you the best lap dance you’ll ever experience?” Kit asks, glowing with excitement.

Fulton’s laugh is brittle. “Me? Really?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re about as virginal as the olive oil we have in the cabinet.”

Fulton grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t refute Kit’s statement. “Fine. Yes, I give you consent.”