He didn’t hesitate. “I dare you to tell me what you really think of me.”
I almost told him. I opened my mouth and just as he thought the words were going to come out, I slowly raised my wine glass and gulped down what remained in it with a sly grin.
“Oh, that was just wrong,” he grumbled.
I laughed.
Three truths, a dare, and another empty bottle of wine later, it was his turn.
“Okay, Tarzan, what’s it’s going to be? Truth? Or dare?” I asked.
“I think it’s time for another dare.”
We both took sips of our freshly poured wine. I was really starting to feel the effects, its soothing heat moving through my body. I also felt my inhibitions starting to fall away, but I was at a point I really didn’t much care. “Okay, Emerson, I dare you to… strip down to your underwear.” I was more surprised at what I’d dared him to do than he seemed to be.
He didn't even bother to protest or hesitate. He stood up immediately and whipped off his shirt, which he flung across the room stripper-style—a move that got me giggling like a schoolgirl. Then he slowly undid his belt, dropped his jeans around his ankles, and climbed out of them. Next thing I knew, he whirled them around his head like a lasso. I couldn't help but laugh. While I was giggling, he tossed them across the room, as well. He was left standing in his underwear—tight, black boxer briefs, which left almost nothing to the imagination, as the contours of the bulge protruding from them was plain to see. I couldn't stop myself from taking in the whole spectacle of his gloriously hard, defined body. Every muscle seemed to have been chiseled from smooth marble. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat lurking anywhere on him. I stared for a moment before it hit me that I should say something or do something; I'd been staring at him so long it was becoming a bit embarrassing. “Alright then, well done!” I laughed. “Now it's my turn again, right?”
“That it is,” he replied, and then sat down next to me in his underwear.
“Umm… Emerson, I didn't say you have to stay in your underwear, ya know. You executed the dare, you can get dressed now.”
He smiled, and I’d have sworn there was a hint of something strongly suggestive in his smirk. “I'm comfortable like this,” he said. “Besides, don't you think it's kinda hot in here?”
It was definitely hot, although whether that was from the actual temperature in the room or the fact that Emerson was now basically naked next to me, I couldn't say for sure. “Um, yeah, it's absolutely a little warm in here,” I responded, not quite able to look him in the eye. “So, yeah, let's get on with the game.”
We each drank the last of the wine in our glasses and then topped them off again. I realized how quickly we'd been drinking and how the alcohol was starting to hit me. I was feeling pretty light-headed.
“Alright, truth or dare?” he smirked. “And don’t say truth again, chicken.”
“Okay. Dare.”
A devious smile turned up the corners of his luscious lips. “I dare you to move closer to me.”
I complied, all the while staring him down like I wasn’t fazed. But I was. He was dangerously close. “Your turn,” I half whispered.
“Dare.”
“I dare you to tell me what you’re thinking right now.” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I’m thinking that I really want to kiss you,” he breathed.
My pulse quickened.
“Your turn,” he reminded me when I didn’t speak.
“Truth.”
Emerson locked his eyes on mine with a smoldering gaze. “If I kissed you, would you like it?”
“Umm, can you ask another question?”
“You can drink if you don't wanna answer, but I'm not gonna change the question.” His focus intensified.
“Alright, I'll answer. Yes. I would.”
He shifted closer to me on the sofa. His hand brushed against mine and, instinctively, I opened my hand to allow him to slip his fingers through mine. Locked in his gaze, blood pounded in my temples, heat rushed through my limbs as he moved in closer.
“Do you really mean that?” he asked.