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I learned that Elijah had two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and that Mason and Finn didn’t have any. Cole’s sister was eight, and when I asked him what his favorite thing in the world was, he answered without a moment of hesitation, “Penny.”
I also learned that he hated his father, though I wasn’t sure why—he answered that question with a one-word answer and then retreated back into himself for a while, passing on the next several rounds.
We drank as we played, and by the time Cole shook off his bad mood and rejoined us, I’d admitted to being a virgin, Elijah had admitted that he was too, and the others had teased us mercilessly for it.
When Mason told me that his mother was dead, his green eyes shuttered for a moment, and even though I’d already known that thanks to my conversation with Jacqueline, my heart ached for him. I knew exactly what it felt like to lose a mother.
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” I asked softly.
His gaze locked on mine, and for a heartbeat, his whole body tensed, as if the intense emotions bottled up inside him were too much to be contained, like he might tear apart at the seams.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a harsh rasp. “It does.”
I swallowed, not quite sure what else to say.
He looked tortured. Ruined.
But a moment later, the tension drained from him. He let out a breath and took another drink, leaning back and spreading his legs lazily. “All right. Enough of this pussy bullshit. Somebody needs to pick ‘dare’.”
“Okay, tough guy. Truth or Dare?” I teased, leveling him with a challenging stare.
He cocked his head, green eyes glittering in the dim light. “Dare, Hildebrand. Do your worst.”
Well, this is too fucking good to pass up.
I kept my gaze on him, letting the silence settle for a moment while I thought about it. Then I grinned.
“I dare you to be my footstool for ten minutes. Without complaining,” I added, holding up a finger.
His eyes widened, then narrowed. “Are you serious?”
I snapped my fingers, pointing at the floor. “Hurry along, peasant. My feet are tired.”
Finn howled with laughter, and Mason shot him a glare. Slowly, he rose and walked over to stand in front of me. I wiggled my toes invitingly, and Elijah chuckled.
“Damn, Mason. She’s got your number. Bringing the king low.”
Mason threw him an annoyed glance, but then he turned his attention back to me, inclining his head sarcastically. “I live to serve, Princess.”
Slowly, he sank to his knees. I expected him to go to all fours like the human impersonation of a stool, but instead, he sat on his heels, still facing me. Then he lifted both my feet, bending my legs and resting my arches on his shoulders. I’d been slouching on the couch, so now, with my legs up, his face was less than a foot away from the apex of my thighs.
The material of my bikini bottoms suddenly felt too thin, too flimsy.
He was so close.
Keeping his head slightly bowed, he flicked his gaze up to meet mine, staring at me from beneath his lashes, and my breath hitched.
Son of a bitch.
I should’ve known he’d find some way to turn the tables on me. He was obeying the letter of my command, but not the intent. I’d meant to bring him low, like Elijah had said, but instead, he was the one putting me on the spot.
His hands stayed on my ankles, caressing up and down my legs softly, and I swore I could feel his breath on my core. My breathing shortened, becoming hitched and uneven, and without even meaning too, I shifted my hips on the cushion, needing… something.
To get away.
To get closer.
To find a cure for the overwhelming ache building inside me.
