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“Dare,” Amara said at last.
“I dare you to makeout with…”
I sat up straighter and dropped my half-empty beer into the cupholder. I wiped my clammy palms on the thighs of my shorts, preparing to do this, to indulge in a public display with Amara. Obviously I wasn’t opposed to kissing her, but here and now? When she and I hadn’t even had the chance to sort out what the fuck was happening between us? I didn’t like being put on the spot, and this was like standing center stage, naked, while a crowd of people picked apart my every move. Just because I wanted the woman in a bone-deep way didn’t mean I wanted to go broadcasting my personal life to the public quite yet.
“…Owen.”
Owen? What aboutme?
“Lia…” Amara warned.
“What?” her sister asked innocently. “It’s not exactly uncharted territory for you.”
“Delia,” Chloe scolded. “That’s enough.”
“She chose, Coco. Now she has to complete the challenge or suffer the consequences. You know the rules.”
Remember earlier how I said I could imagine joining this family?
I lied. At this moment, watching Delia toy with her sister, with me,andwith Owen? I wanted out. I wanted Amara, but not like this.
“We’re waiting,” Delia said, tapping her watch when neither Owen nor Amara moved.
With a heavy sigh, Amara rose from her chair and circled the fire in the direction of me and Owen. He looked over at me, eyes pleading to do something, anything.
They could simply…not kiss, but what kind of consequences would Amara suffer for it?
I couldn’t see a way out.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed a moment before Amara reached him.
Only…she walked right past him, threw herself onto my lap, and pressed her mouth to mine.
I was going tokill Delia.
But with my lips against Cal’s, with his tongue sweeping into my mouth and massaging my own, I was having difficulty remembering why.
Oh, right.
Because I was kissing him in front of my entire family and myex-fuck buddybecause my sister couldn’t leave well enough alone.
Cheers erupted around us, and someone said, “About fucking time.”
I’d bet good money it was Delia, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to give a shit. Not when Calvin moved his hand to my neck, pressing his thumb against my jaw to angle my head where he wanted me. Not when he applied a bit of pressure to my windpipe, that massive palm spanning my entire throat, his long fingers delving into my hair.
I grinned against him when I felt him hardening against my backside, but I pulled away before we could get too hot and heavy, before I pulled him from his chair, hauled him inside, and had my way with him. That was fuel that certainly didn’t need to be added to our already burning inferno. I was having difficulty catching my breath—a phenomenon I encountered frequently when he was near—and I wished time could just…stop for a minute.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, resting my forehead against his, my breaths ragged.
“No,” he said quietly in response, shaking his head slightly. “Never apologize for kissing me. Especially not since you saved Owen’s life.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he growled. “I would’ve had to kill him if you touched him.”
“Get a room!” someone shouted, and I groaned, remembering where we were.
My world had a habit of narrowing to Cal’s entire presence when his arms were around me.
