First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)

“T-Truth or dare?” I stutter when Quinn tightens his hold on me and starts gently swaying us to the muffled music.

“Truth,” he whispers, dipping his head and pressing his lips to my cheek like he did a handful of times tonight for the cameras.

He holds them there just long enough for the warmth of his lips to drive me insane before slowly pulling back just far enough to look at me, our noses a few inches apart. I feel him everywhere from my breasts pressed against his chest down to our thighs. Every hard inch of him is smashed up against my soft parts, rubbing together while he slowly rocks us to the music and stares into my eyes. The rapid beating of his heart perfectly matches my own; I can feel it pounding inside his chest with how closely he’s holding me to him, not letting even a whisper of air between us.

“Best date you’ve ever been on,” I finally say stupidly, unable to form any kind of coherent thought in my head or come up with any other question for him to answer for his truth response.

All of a sudden, Quinn swoops his head down again, this time pressing his lips against mine. It’s only for a few seconds, just like I did to him after our lunch with Jeanie, but having his mouth on any part of me again sets me on fire and makes me want more. He pulls his mouth away too quickly, his eyes back on mine when he speaks.

“This one.”

“Be serious,” I scoff, even though I’m having trouble breathing again. “They couldn’t have all been bad.”

A muscle tics in his jaw as he looks at me, our bodies no longer swaying to the music, just standing still, plastered up against each another under the archway. He moves his hand off the top of mine that’s pressed against his chest, bringing it to rest against the side of my neck, his thumb tracing back and forth over my jaw.

“Truth or dare?”

Quinn’s voice is low, but he practically growls the words at me, making my entire body shiver in his arms and the pulsing ache in my core grow to an uncomfortable level. I want to be bold, do something daring, be the risktaker I’ve been all my life. I know he wants me. I know this dating shit is just pretend, but the attraction isn’t. Wren is right. I deserve this.

“Dare,” I whisper back to Quinn, my eyes focused on his lips, while his thumb brushes back and forth over my jaw, and I wait for him to dare me to kiss him.

“Stop pretending.”

My eyes fly up to his when he says these words to find him staring at me like he’s trying to look into my soul. I have to swallow thickly and will the butterflies flapping around in my stomach to calm the hell down. With his thumb continuing to brush maddeningly close to my lips, his eyes never leave mine as he keeps talking, making my scalp tingle, my heart pound, and the need inside me fly off the charts.

“If none of this were… pretend… what would you do, Emily?” Quinn asks, the sound of my name in his deep, hoarse voice making my body instantly react and subtly grind against him. A guttural groan comes out of him as he drops his forehead to mine. “For five minutes, just stop fucking pretending with me and be real. I dare you.”

His final words are a whispered plea to me, but I hear them like he shouted them at the top of his lungs into this quiet room. He’s seriously daring me to be real right now? This is what I’ve been trying to avoid—doesn’t he get it? It’s easier to pretend. It’s safer.

For fuck’s sake, be bold! Be daring, and take what you want. Stop pretending with him just for a little bit and just imagine this is all real, and perfect, and you’re really with your smoking-hot boyfriend at a charity event, sneaking away for some alone time, like a real couple would. You can think about how much it’s going to suck when it ends later.

With all the strength I have, I pull my head back from his, pushing my palms against his chest to move away from him. Like the gentleman Quinn is, he immediately drops his arm from its tight hold around me and his hand from my face. A worried look comes over his own face as I take a few steps back from him and farther into the locker room, probably wondering if I’m going to kick him in the balls or storm out of here.

There’s a reason I was the captain of every squad I’ve ever cheered for. Because I take charge, I get the job done, and I’m confident in my abilities. He wants real, and this is as real as it gets.