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“Dare,” she says, her voice breathy.
“I dare you to tell me your deepest and filthiest desire,” I challenge her.
“I don’t know that I really have one. You know, I’ve never really thought about it,” she admits.
We will be returning to this topic another time. I want to bring every one of her fantasies to life. Nothing is off-limits to me when it comes to her. If she wants it, it’s hers.
“Okay, then I dare you to name five of your biggest turn-ons.”
She blows a raspberry before responding, “I used to like my neck to be kissed and licked. My ass to be grabbed and massaged. I used to love being picked up. And I liked skin tracing. Like, if you took your finger and traced it anywhere on me.”
Maybe it’s for the best that she lives far away. Because I’m pretty sure if she lets me touch her and taste her and eventually fuck her, I’m going to last all of five seconds.
“Why did you say them all in past tense? Do you not like those things now?” I ask her.
“Hmm. I think I still do. It’s just been so long since I’ve been with someone, and it’s not like my ex and I had a wonderfully intimate relationship. Besides him, I only slept with one person before, and I think I might have been the first girl he ever touched.” She breaks into a fit of laughter. “Oh my God, it was so bad. Like, so bad, Cam.”
“I want all of the details, please, at some point.” I laugh, unable to stop myself from the contagiousness of the sweet sound of her own laugh. “Your turn.”
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” I answer.
“When was the last time you slept with someone?” she asks with feigned confidence.
I don’t hesitate to reassure her. “The night before I met you. I don’t want anyone else but you, and I haven’t since you kissed me.”
Silence echoes between us before she finally says, “I hate how much I like you, Blue Eyes. You were supposed to be my escape that night, a glimpse into a life of carelessness and fun. But here we are now, on the phone at—oh my God—two a.m., playing Truth or Dare.”
“In my defense, you called me.” I chuckle. “But if you hadn’t, I would have called you anyway. And I don’t want to stop calling you. I don’t want you to stop calling me.”
“What does that mean?” she softly asks.
“Whatever you need it to mean as long as it never stops.”
15
Cam
“Welcome to Duluth. Have a good day,” the flight attendant says as I step off of the plane.
“Thank you. You too,” I tell her as my palms start to sweat.
Flying states away to see a girl? This is something I can say I have never done, but she deserves it. I would fly to fucking Antarctica if it meant I could get five minutes with her.
When she drunk-dialed me and asked me to come visit, I booked a flight that night without hesitation. It’s pretty much all I’ve been able to think about since then.
Quickly, I make my way through the airport with my carry-on duffel and backpack and order an Uber.
Throwing my hood up onto my Nighthawks cap, I maneuver through the crowds and find the exit rather swiftly, my heart continuing to thrum in my chest with each passing second.
I’m a fucking goner for this girl. I’ve never had anxiety or butterflies before seeing someone like this before. I wonder if I should have messaged her and let her know I was coming. What if she has plans and is out of town or something? I already checked her shop’s hours online multiple times to make sure it would be open. Because if it’s open, then she’s there. Right?
My phone buzzes, telling me that my Uber is arriving. I throw my phone in my pocket, and I quickly find my ride outside.
Throwing my bags across the backseat of the car, I slide into the seat and buckle up.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” my Uber driver, Jared, asks me.
