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“Yup. Truth or dare?” she asks.Guess I’m going first.
“Truth.”
“Why do you call me Bridget?”
“Because that’s your name.”
“Yeah, but everyone else calls me Birdie. You usually call me Bridget.”
“I’m only calling you Bird when I want to make you sing for me.” I wink at her. “Truth or dare?”
There’s that blush that gets my dick hard. Never gets old.
“Dare.” She’s got some truths she wants to hide. Good to know.
“I dare you to take off your sweater.”
“Okay,that’scheating! And I decline,” she says, peeling off a single sock instead. “Truth or dare?”
I poke my tongue into my cheek and inhale a long breath. She’s playing with fire. The taunting smile she’s beaming at me isn’t doing her any favors.
“Truth,” I answer.
She’s got a question on the tip of her tongue; her mouth opens and closes again.
“Do you”—she looks down at her hands—“Are you seeing anybody else?”
“Not yet.”
“What does that mean?”
I lean forward and wrap my fingers over her covered toes.
“That’s two questions. I let you get away with it last time, but if you do it again, I’m taking this other sock.”
My gravelly voice sounds aggressive, but she started this chase. Her little acts of rebellion are like bits of chum tossed overboard to draw out the shark.
“Truth or dare?”
She pauses, taken aback by my command. “Truth.”
“Are you going to see Nate outside of work?”
“I don’t know.”
As soon as the words pass her lips, I reach across and snatch the sock from her foot.
“Hey!”
“‘I don’t know’ isn’t an answer, Little Bird.”
She glares at me and finishes her beer. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
She searches the room, trying to come up with ideas.
“Go to the kitchen and make me the best snack you can think of. You have three minutes. Starting... now!”
