Page 60 of Game Night: Truth or Dare

I grinned up at him. “Like a fine wine.”

“Like Brussels sprouts.”

“Luckily for me, Brussels sprouts are fucking delicious.”

He made a face, wrinkling his nose and sticking his tongue out a little. It was adorable. I wanted to bite him. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Because I like Brussels sprouts?”

“Yeah,” he said. “They’re disgusting.” And then he kissed me.

This was perfect. I mean, standing by the ottoman in Callie’s parents’ house, we’d shared a pretty excellent kiss, but now we were alone, in his bed, with most of our clothing on the other side of the room. I kissed him back, slipping my tongue into his mouth. He took it, sucking gently, then brushed his own tongue along the underside. I moaned against his lips and he responded with a breathy chuckle.

He was so fun, I realized. He was sexy as hell, and insanely insightful, but more than that, he was just…a really good time. Being with him relaxed me. Out in the world, sometimes I feel like I have to perform for people, to be funny or smart, to uphold some goddamn standard. Ben cracked my shell a bit. Like, I still wanted him to think I was amazing, but that was only because I was starting to think he was pretty amazing.

Maybe that’s what Elliot saw, I thought. Maybe he needed to relax, too.

I pushed the thought away. Elliot didn’t matter anymore. Ben was here now.

Wanting to keep him close, wanting to pin him, I rose to my knees and pushed him onto his back.

“Whoa,” he said, a huge grin splitting his pretty face. “Pretty strong for a beanpole.”

“Beanpole?” I lowered myself over his body, so my face was only inches from his. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“I doubt it,” he said, still smiling but all whispery.

“Is that a dare?”

He shrugged—as well as he could with me on top of him. “I mean, by this time, half the school probably knows you gave me a hickey. I don’t think I have anything else to lose.”

I kissed him long and slow, lapping my tongue playfully against his lips when I pulled away. “Imagine their faces if they could see us now.”

A warm chuckle filled the air between us, and it was infectious. I loved—loved—how his laughter made me laugh. “I wonder,” he said, a sly edge curling through his voice, “if they noticed we left at the same time.”

I wondered that, too. And I wondered if it even mattered. I wasn’t going to think about it too hard, because I was having fun. I didn’t know if Ben and I would still be able to make each other laugh once the sun was up, in a world of classes and play rehearsals and other people. For the rest of the night, I’d ignore everything except him and me.

I kissed him again, harder this time. I sucked his lower lip into my mouth, and his fingers dug into my shoulders, pulling me close to him. He moaned, and a second later he was grinding into me, smashing his cock against mine and rolling his hips against my body. Our kisses grew reckless, messy. The sounds, his heat, my swollen lips, the slickness of our mingled spit on my tongue—it was too much, the hottest fucking make-out session I’d ever experienced. I needed to get him naked, needed to get inside of him.

I struggled out of his grip—Jesus, he was strong!—and kissed his chin and his throat. I licked the hollow above his clavicles, then reached up, turning his face gently so his cheek was pressed to his pillows and the hickey I’d given him was on full display.

“Kiss it,” he said.

“What?” I’d been thinking about it, wanting to. But hearing him say it, all breathy like that, sort of startled me.

“Put your mouth on it. I want you…” He swallowed, and I was so close to his throat that I could see the way his Adam’s apple slid up and down. “I want to feel you suck on it some more.”

Oh. That actually wasn’t my plan. I’d been going for something sweeter. Kissing the blemish I’d given him, soothing the ache I’d caused. But the way his voice sounded when he asked made something inside me feel tight and hot and hungry. “I…I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Promise. I’ll stop you if it gets too intense.”

I wasn’t going to argue. If he wanted it, I could give it to him. Heck, I’d put my mouth anywhere he asked. I leaned closer, examining the hickey. It was a dark, bluey-purple, going reddish at the edges. It would fade, unlike all the other marks he’d made on his body—the flowering thorny vines he’d inked into his forearms, the smirking devil on his bicep, the name and dates scrawled in cursive over his left pec. He’d chosen those, maybe designed them himself. He'd wanted to be marked like that. Tonight, he wanted me to mark him, too.

I licked it. He shivered and shifted under me. Then, as I had at the party, I pressed my lips against him and started sucking.

He hissed, then the hiss melted to a whimper. I was going easy—much easier than I had earlier. Just a nice, gentle pull. It was enough, though. He started breathing through his nose in these long, slow, steadying breaths and, with our chests pressed together and my weight pushing me close to him, I could feel the dull thud of his heartbeat.

I hadn’t imagined he could sound like this, this solid, quiet man. It felt so strange—wonderfully strange—to hear his pants and moans, and to know I’d caused them.

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