Page 47 of Dirty Delivery

His smirk softens into something closer to understanding. “Fair enough. Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?” I ask, arching a brow.

“Dare,” he replies without hesitation.

I grin as an idea immediately takes form. “Take your shirt off. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down my spine. “If that’s what you want, mo stóirín.”

In one smooth motion, he pulls his shirt over his head to reveal his tattooed chest and defined abs. My breath catches for a moment, but I mask it with a casual shrug.

“Not bad.” I feign indifference, but the heat in my cheeks betrays me.

His grin widens. “Your turn again.”

“Dare,” I say, emboldened.

He leans forward, his voice dropping an octave. “Kiss me. Properly this time.”

My heart skips a beat, but I refuse to back down. Closing the small gap between us, I press my lips to his, the kiss startingslow but quickly deepening. When I pull away, his expression is equal parts smug and pleased.

“Well,” he says, his voice husky. “That was worth the dare.”

I roll my eyes, trying to hide my own smile. “Truth or dare, hotshot?”

“Truth,” he answers, his gaze steady.

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

His lips twitch, and for a moment, he looks genuinely sheepish. “When I was fifteen, I tried to impress a girl by riding my bike down a massive hill. I ended up flipping over the handlebars and landing in a pond. She laughed so hard she fell over.”

I burst out laughing, the image too good to ignore. “That’s priceless. Did she at least give you points for effort?”

“She did,” he admits with a grin. “Didn’t stop her from telling the whole school, though.”

“Serves you right for showing off,” I tease, shaking my head.

“Truth or dare?” he asks, his tone light but his eyes watching me intently.

“Dare,” I say again. The bold feeling from the last dare lingering.

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

I blink, caught off guard. “That’s not a dare; that’s a truth.”

“Fine,” he says, leaning closer. “I dare you to tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

I hesitate, my mind racing. Finally, I take a deep breath. “I . . . have always wanted to write a book. But I’m scared no one would care what I had to say.”

His expression softens, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You should do it. You have a lot to say, Savannah, and I’d bet every word would be worth reading.”

Warmth spreads through me, and for a moment, I forget about the chaos of our situation. “Your turn,” I say, clearing my throat.

“Dare,” he answers with a grin.

“Do a handstand,” I say, laughing at the mental image.

He raises a brow but doesn’t back down. Standing up, he positions himself by the couch and, with surprising ease, kicks up into a handstand. His balance is impressive, and I can’t help but clap as he holds the position for a few seconds before flipping back onto his feet.

---