Page 37 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
She watches me from her sprawled throne of throw pillows she smuggled in. “Fine. You pick the game.”
“We’re not playing any game.”
“We could always play strip?—”
“Truth or Dare it is,” I cut her off, sitting across from her before she can finish that suicidal sentence.
She beams. I already regret breathing.
“Okay!” She claps once. “I go first.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
I glare. “That’s my line.”
She leans forward, eyes wicked. “Not anymore.”
I don’t blink. “Go.”
“Thorne Maddox.” She points at me like she’s Moses laying down a commandment. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Thank God.” She bolts off the couch, rummages inside her ridiculous Halloween crate, and comes back with a paintbrush and a tiny jar of neon-orange body paint.
“No,” I tell her.
“Yes,” she sings.
“That’s not happening.”
She pops the jar open and wiggles the brush at me. “Take your shirt off.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then you fail. Which means…” She taps her chin dramatically. “You have to surrender one of your rules.”
My jaw flexes. Little menace knows exactly what she’s doing.
“One rule,” she repeats. “Gone. Permanently.”
I could walk away. End it now.
Instead, I peel off my shirt.
Her thighs press together.
I notice.
Her cheeks get pink.
I notice that, too.
