Read Devlin's Dare for Free Online Page B

lingering in her imagination, for a week.
    Devlin Fox was a hot guy —she knew that—but she hadn’t realized how deeply she wanted him, had no clue that a little swizzle of his hips would hit her so hard. Like a freaking Mack truck of hunger.
    By the time he finished she was drooling.
    It was probably the gin coursing in her veins—but she doubted it. This felt more like lust. Pure and unadulterated.
    I t annoyed the crap out of her.
    Humiliating him hadn’ t quite worked out the way she’d intended.
    “Well?” He put his hands on his hips and gazed at her.
    She swallowed heavily…so she could speak without a spray. “Fine. That was fine.”
    He grinned. “Another game?”
    A hint of panic snarled in her belly. “I, ah, have to get back.” Yeah. The last thing she wanted was to play another game with him, and perhaps lose.
    “Chicken?”
    Her heart stuttered. Shit. He could read her like a book. “I’m not chicken. I just have to get back.” She glanced at her watch, though she wasn’t wearing one. “My friends are waiting.” A lie. She’d come this weekend with Kristi, who was probably in the middle of a hot clinch with Cam right now. Bella and Holt had come too. They were probably clinching as well. Everyone was clinching. Except Tara. She tried not to let that annoy her too.
    It was her choice to be single right now. She needed to focus on her business.
    Men just got in the way.
    Oh sure, it started off all fuckity-fun, but then, inevitably, the guy would get all demanding and overbearing. Possessive. Toothbrushes everywhere…
    And that was when her warning system would kick into gear. That was when the little voice in the back of her head would start whispering, “No. He’s not the one.” Not the one who could give her that elusive security, that forever she craved.
    But forever was probably a fantasy anyway.
    Chet had been particularly annoying in the end. While she had enjoyed the companionship—and God knew she liked her sex—it wasn’t worth the hassle to put up with his crap. Not when she knew their relationship wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, when a girl needed to be in bed by seven in the pm—and up at three—there was a very short window for kinky fuckery. 
    So she’d broken it off with Chet a month ago and she hadn’t been laid since.
    Her libido was not appreciative. Some days she wore lust like a cloak. She thought about sex all the time—and more so since she’d done that little dance with Devlin on the ferry.
    She did n’t relish the thought of lying in her cold and lonely bed all weekend listening to muffled moans from the rooms on either side of her.
    And now she had that vision of Devlin swizzling his hips to contend with. His muscles bunching beneath the fabric of his t-shirt as he danced the Macarena for her pleasure. The pink peep of his tongue as he concentrated on the moves.
    He leaned against the table with a snort. She tried not to fixate on his long, lean denim-clad legs. “It’s Friday night. Are you really going back at eight?”
    Was it only eight? It felt like midnight. “It’s past my bedtime.” A smirk.
    “Come on, Ponytail. One more game.”
    “What did you call me?”
    He reached around and yanked on her hair. “Ponytail.” He shrugged. “What else should I call you? Beautiful?”
    She glared at him. Not because he thought she was beautiful, but because he was clearly teasing.
    “Gluten girl?” He winked. “Sugar Muffin?”
    She crossed her arms. “Ponytail is fine.”
    He gave a mock bow. “Ponytail it is.”
    Damn it, he was exasperating.
    And adorable.
    She bit her lip to keep a smile from slipping out. He would see a smile as some bizarre form of encouragement. She was certain of it.
    As though she had acquiesced to another game, he collected the balls and racked them. “What shall we play for this time?” His steamy expression made it clear he would be asking for something far more daring than a name.
    Temptation prodded her. She