The Party Dare

‘I’m Samantha. We haven’t met, have we?’

‘No, we haven’t. I’m Leo.’ He nodded towards the empty wine glass she was caressing. ‘Where can I get a couple of those?’

‘Drinks? I’d love—’

‘Glasses.’ He held up his bottle. ‘You don’t know where Breanna is, do you?’

‘She’s not far—I saw her a few moments ago talking with Bronwyn.’ Her smile evaporated and she waved towards the kitchen. ‘Glasses are that way.’

‘Thanks.’

On the lookout for the hostess, he made his way through the crowd, grabbing two clean long-stemmed wine glasses from the kitchen. The room looked marginally tidier than it had this afternoon. He spied a gaggle of girls in the family area where clothes had been scattered earlier, but saw neither Breanna nor her clothes. He checked the atrium where guests talked over booze and chips. The downstairs loo.

With the rest of the rooms in darkness, their doors shut, he presumed they were off-limits. Which left the next floor.

Familiar with the layout of his own place, he walked straight towards the master bedroom. He knew Breanna must be there since it was the only room with a light on. The sensual fragrance he’d come to associate with her—the one he’d taken to calling midnight temptation—drifted in the air. Anticipation swarmed through him and his pulse quickened.

He could hear movement and tapped on the semi-open door. ‘Breanna.’ When there was no reply, only a fast rustling sound, he tapped again. He was impatient to see her now he was here. ‘Breanna. Are you decent in there?’ In that instant it occurred to him that she might not be alone. Something hooked in his gut. Was that what he’d heard—two desperate would-be lovers trying to cover up fast? The thought of some other man touching her the way he’d been thinking of touching her shocked him into movement and he walked in without further preamble.

* * *

Leo was here? Brie scrambled up, tugged the hem of her new vermilion dress down, her heart jack-hammering. She swiped at a lock of hair that had fallen over her brow. He was the last person she wanted to catch her on her hands and knees searching under the bed for a DVD she’d borrowed from Bron and forgotten about.

She’d almost composed herself in front of the mirror when he entered without waiting for her invitation. Still, she could hardly hurl accusations—the door was open and he had asked permission. She’d just chosen not to answer until she was ready.

She still wasn’t ready and her heart was still thumping but she dragged her eyes to his reflection and locked gazes with him in the mirror while her fingers fumbled with the dress’s neckline. She could almost see the heat haze shimmering on the glass. Still watching his reflection, she saw him set his mega-expensive bottle of wine and two glasses on her bedside table.

He wore black casual and oh...my. She didn’t know what possessed her but to demonstrate just how cool and unruffled she was, not, she whirled around, sashayed over to him and planted a firm kiss on his mouth. Then she whirled back to the mirror.

Her lips were on fire. Her whole body was burning. She felt like a teenage rookie and glanced at him from beneath her lashes. Think cool, think cool.

He hadn’t moved. He shook his head. ‘What was that?’

She shrugged, the laugh catching in her throat. ‘A whim. I was curious.’

Now she was even more curious. What would a full-on sensual assault be like? Trying for casual, she picked up her brush, ran it through her hair. Her arm felt strangely weak, as if she were coming down with a fever. ‘What changed your mind?’

‘I finished sooner than I expected.’

‘Ah.’ She nodded wisely. ‘Party for one not satisfying, huh?’

‘The party hasn’t started yet.’ His voice took on a persuasive tone that brushed over her skin like velvet. ‘Nice.’

He meant her slinky dress—at least she thought he did—except his gaze seemed to skim only the bare thighs its short hem didn’t cover, sending goosebumps over her flesh.

‘Nice of you to notice.’

Setting her brush down, she turned from his reflection to look at the real man. And reminded herself to breathe. He seemed to draw something from her that she’d never known she had. Was she out of her depth with this one? ‘Do you think I’m going to abandon my hostess responsibilities for a frolic across the sheets with you?’

He raised a dark brow. ‘Are you?’

The scary thing was she had a feeling that was exactly what was going to happen. She loved playing the catch-me-if-you-can game almost as much as reaching the winning post but this time she seemed to be tied to the starting gate. ‘You’ve got a high opinion of yourself, haven’t you?’ She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

He nodded. ‘I’m comfortable with who I am. How about you?’

‘At the moment I’m feeling pretty relaxed.’ Not exactly answering his question. She smiled to hide the fact she was strung out like wet washing in the wind.

He closed the door, muting the sound of the party below. Taking his time, he peeled the foil off the top of the bottle, unscrewed the cap and splashed some wine into the bottom of the glasses. ‘Do you like a good shiraz?’

‘I do. I should—’

‘This one’s my favourite. I didn’t expect to find it here.’

‘Me either,’ she murmured. She could delay her hostess duties a moment. Or possibly the rest of her life.

She leaned her backside against her dressing table for support as he stopped in front of her, both glasses in one large hand. The other he wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her skull in such a way so she was looking right at him. Up close his eyes were pewter flecked with cobalt. He smelled of fresh rain on cotton, shampoo and soap. She clutched the edge of the dressing table on either side of her hips. If she touched him, she might not be responsible for her actions, and, with him, she very much needed to be responsible.

His head dipped, his mouth hovered. ‘I’ll admit to a little curiosity of my own,’ he murmured and touched his lips to hers.

Firm and warm. They moved gently; testing, teasing, tasting. Taking his time, showing her how devastating one long, drawn-out kiss could be. How a woman could be seduced into forgetting her own identity. Her fingers tightened on the wood behind her. She could feel his body heat radiating between them and her fingers itched to explore but still she didn’t touch him.

She’d never been one for slow. This leisurely pace was new. Mesmerising. As her body melted against his her blood grew sluggish and flowed like clotted cream through her veins.

Even the sound of the rain on her window faded and all she was aware of were his fingers massaging the back of her scalp, his lips on hers, and the rich, dark promise of more. She yearned. When he raised his head, she bit back a sigh.

He lifted his hand from the back of her skull to trace a path just once down the side of her face, fingertips leaving a trail of tingling nerve endings. ‘Breanna.’ He slid his thumb over her bottom lip then took a step back.

He looked bemused, she thought. The way she felt right now. ‘That was...that’s a lot of curiosity.’

He reached out, flicked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Unlike your “whim”, I enjoy taking my time.’

‘I noticed,’ she said, feeling as if she were floating a few centimetres off the floor. She struggled to rein in her far-flung thoughts and ground herself. ‘There are at least fifty people downstairs who’ll be wondering where I am.’

‘They seem a pretty self-sufficient lot. Try this.’ He handed her a glass.

She took it with nerveless fingers and sipped, letting the rich mellowness caress the inside of her mouth. ‘Mmm.’

He drank too. ‘I doubt they’ll notice you’re missing for a little while.’

She sipped again. ‘Someone could turn up here at any moment.’ Bron, for instance.

‘Does that bother you?’

‘No.’ It should, it really should but right now she couldn’t bring herself to care. ‘You’re bad.’

He grinned, as if seducing women at their own parties was a regular pastime, and raised his glass. ‘Your opinion?’

‘Of the wine? Or the kiss?’