“I was dared to… to k-kiss someone.” I swallow, annoyed with myself for stuttering. “I did kiss someone.”
“Right,” Jason replies, confused. “Is that a big thing?”
“It was the first time I’d ever done it.”
With a disbelieving sound, he tilts his head. “You’re eighteen, dude. The fuck have you been doing?”
I shrug. “I’ve not been interested.”
He crosses his arms. “Do you fancy her?”
Don’t laugh, but I haven’t done this before. The best eight words I’ve ever heard in my eighteen years of walking this earth.
“Yep. ”
He slaps my shoulder and I tense, only relaxing when he pulls it away. “Well, at least the little bro is off the mark. Did you bone her?”
I laugh. “No one says bone, Jason. Old bastard.”
“I’m twenty-nine, you dick.”
I sigh. “Well Stacey—”
“Woah. Wait. You kissed Stacey? Does she not hate your guts?”
I huff, pulling up at the manor gates and waiting for security to open them. “Yes.”
Jason blows out a breath. “Good luck with that.”
I know. I’m going to need it. Because when I get into this house, I’m going to have to hide in my room. Luciella is having an indoor pool party with her friends. As much as I’ve witnessed Stacey in a swimsuit countless of times, I don’t think I’d handle seeing her now, knowing what it feels like to kiss her.
And I’m going to do it again.
Luciella is going to fucking hate me.
Keep going, Stacey had said to me in the tent, while in my lap with her tongue down my throat, and I fully intend to keep fucking doing so.
“We’re out of ice!” Tylar exclaims. “Stacey, it’s your run.”
When she nods and gets out of the pool, I avert my eyes. Seeing her wet body will only make my fascination worse. I already screenshotted and cropped a picture Tylar posted on social media an hour ago before my friends forced me to come down here.
All those years of teasing her have finally come back to bite my ass. It’s typical that the first girl I’m interested in turns out to be the one I’ve bullied since I was fifteen. My friends helped by targeting Tylar and Luciella, but my sole purpose was to make Stacey’s life hell.
For absolutely no reason.
I’ve lost count of how many times she’s given me the middle finger, shoved me and called me a fucking asshole.
All deserved of course.
Her breathy voice is in my head, and I tighten my grip on my bottle of beer. It’s like a fucking mantra, constantly drawing me in, begging me to act on my impulses. I’m back in that damn tent again, with her in my lap.
Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.
I want to keep going.
Fuck it.
No one asks me where I’m going as I leave the pool room, water dripping onto the carpets as I make my way to the kitchen. The staff glare at me, but I ignore them. I don’t bother putting on a top.
I just need to get this off my chest.
Kiss her. At least finish the kiss. Then I can forget this thirst for more.
I’m telling myself I’m going for a snack, and it’s sort of true – the snack being a five-foot-four tattooed aerialist with delicious curves, toned from exercising, who’s badly singing along to “Wrecking Ball” as it echoes throughout the manor.
She has no idea I’m leaning against the doorframe as she belts out each word.
She’s a terrible singer.
Well, not everyone can be perfect. But Jesus, she could wake up a dead person with that horrendous voice.
Her bikini – a tiny black thing – hugs her body. It’s fucking imprinting on my mind as she moves around, slamming cupboards, still singing along as the song hits the chorus. She searches the freezer, then the chest freezer in the corner, none the wiser that I’m here.
She won’t find ice in here, but I’ll let her continue.
It’s a delightful view.
My hooded gaze shamefully drops to her ass as she stretches up to reach the top cupboard, groaning when she fails.
“The ice is in the walk-in freezer down in the basement,” I tell her, smirking when she jumps in surprise and spins around.
“Fucking hell, Kade!” She presses her palm to her extremely naked and wet chest. “I think my heart just exploded.”
I chuckle then stop myself. I don’t laugh in front of people I don’t feel comfortable with. And she’s the last person in the world who could make me feel comfortable. She makes me dizzy and crazy and fucking nervous.
Instead, I blink and push off the doorframe, walking until I’m in the centre of the kitchen. “That would be a heart rupture, and it’s more common a few days to weeks after a heart attack.”
“It was a figure of speech, asshole,” she retorts, and I can’t stop myself laughing.
She slams the freezer shut, placing her hands on her hips. Hips that I’ve held in my palms. Hips that I want to hold again.
She wets her lips, and my gaze falls to her mouth.
Fuck.
All I’ve been picturing is Stacey since that night, and it’s starting to piss me off .
She did this to me, so she can fucking fix it.
“What do you want?” she asks, crossing her arms. “If you’re here to tease me about kissing you and how bad I was at it, don’t bother. I’m in no mood for your bullshit tonight, Kade.”
The way she throws out my name has anxiety prickling at my skin. I want to just come straight out and say I have to kiss her again, but instead, I stupidly reply, “Ice.”
Her brows furrow. “Ice? You’re drinking bottles of beer. Why would you need ice?”
Fuck. Okay, think, Kade, you stupid bastard.
“You were taking too long,” I say, leaning my elbow on the island counter. “And you were looking in the wrong place.”
“Whatever.”
Before she can head to the stairs that lead to the basement, I side-step to block her. “Wait.”
She tries to hide it, but I definitely just saw her looking at my body. It’s still wet from the water, as is hers.
She gulps and takes a step back. “What?”
“The kiss…” I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing or saying or thinking. I’m certain my hands are shaking. “What did you think of it?”
I’m a tit – an embarrassing fucking tit. Why don’t I tell her that I chugged one off while thinking about her not even twelve hours ago while I’m at it?
She shrugs, not giving a fuck. At least she isn’t laughing at me. “I had high expectations given how full of shit you are, but I’ve had better.”
The fuck she has .
“Liar. I was your first kiss,” I reply, imagining myself grabbing her face and pressing my mouth to hers. Imagining being the key word. Because I’m too much of a fucking pussy to actually do it. “And you were mine.”
“See, that I struggle to believe. If you need an excuse for how crap it was, don’t beat yourself up too much. I know you were disgusted by the dare as much as I was.”
I shouldn’t be hurt by her comment, but I am. “I wasn’t disgusted.”