Best Fake Day (8 page)

Unlike in the past games of Truth or Dare, Jack’s face was devoid of any teasing. The soft glow of candlelight hugged his profile, accentuating the slant of his cheekbones and his perfect angular jaw. The photographer in her marveled at the symmetry of his face. Perfect from every angle. And his perfection didn’t stop at his face, she noticed as her gaze dropped lower. The splash of light rested upon the breadth of his shoulders to almost fall like the cascade of a waterfall upon every sculpted muscle.

The tree house was of generous size, in fact she knew Jack used to sleep out there at times and they’d taken to leaving a blanket and a sleeping bag for if he ever needed them. Then, of course, during winter times he would climb the drain pipe into Ellie’s room. They’d never questioned him why, but knew to offer him the security he sought. But once more in late summer here they were again, but this time the tree house seemed filled with his presence even though his long legs were now comfortably stretched out in front of him. Yes, he had grown larger but it was her mind that was invaded with his presence.

“Truth or dare? Think you’re brave enough to take me on?”

His eyes flashed with silver. “Brave
and
stupid enough.” He grabbed the old bottle, blew the covering of dust away, and placed it in the middle of them as he moved to sit opposite her. Her breath caught at the sight of him, his intense gaze now in full view. She could see him in full masculine entirety. The way his long-sleeved black top hugged the strength, almost enveloping him in the shadows, the power contain in muscular thighs as he sat on his knees.

She wasn’t feeling brave but most definitely stupid.

“Ladies first,” he invited.

Her breath hitched as she grasped the middle of the glass bottle and flicked her wrist to spin it. With satisfaction, she released that breath as the neck of the bottle rested at his knee. With a bit of luck his explosion of manly muscles were going to be his downfall. To his credit, the rise and fall of his shoulders remained regular, his face a mask.

She had to make this truth count.

“Do you find me unattractive, is that why you won’t kiss me? Truth or dare?”

She heard his indrawn breath. “Asking two questions is cheating,” he replied calmly.

She frowned as she mulled over her options. Which would be the least painful answer?

“Okay, why won’t you kiss me?”

A muscle flickered in his cheek. “Truth. I promised your father.” He hesitated as if considering his answer. “He caught me once climbing back down the drainpipe and rather than being angry he invited me into the kitchen and talked.” A measured breath. “We came to an understanding. He knew Ellie was going into self-destruct after your mother’s death and then the climb of her success.”

Her mother’s death. The catalyst for Ellie’s change in behavior. Her rebellion had largely gone ignored because of this. That was the reason they all covered for her and dug her out of any holes she’d dived into. Izzy missed her mother dearly, but Ellie? She had good reason to feel the greater impact of her loss. Not that they’d ever talked about it...

“Your father also knew I had my reasons for needing my hideouts. He asked for my help. I would carry on as normal. He knew I’d been sneaking out with Ellie and making sure she was safe, but in return for my safe haven I was to let him know what our plans were and also...I was to be strictly ‘friends only’ with his daughters.”

“He knew,” she said incredulously. “All the times you slept in here and in Ellie’s room, he knew?”

He nodded. “Yes to in here. Not exactly Ellie’s room though. Being good took some practice. He trusted me though. That was why the Truth or Dare and Strip Poker stopped. I respected your father too much to breach his trust.”

“So he knew about Ellie’s partying?”

“Yes. He knew the harder he put his foot down the more she would stamp back, so I went with her under the pretence of rule breaking—”

“But really you were her unofficial bodyguard,” she finished for him. She narrowed her eyes, thinking. That might be the case but she was sure he had breached her dad’s trust with Ellie on a more than friend’s level.

Conversation over. Jack clutched the bottle with his long fingers and spun it to dizzying speed. It stopped at her toe.

“Why did you run today? Truth or dare?”

“Truth. It felt wrong. All of it. I get why you want me to help you, but wearing
that
dress and this awful hair, I couldn’t even pretend it was my special day. It was so far from it. And then...then you couldn’t bring yourself to kiss me...” She spun the bottle. It landed at her other toe. Crap.

He gave a satisfied smile. “Why is marriage so important to you? Truth or dare?”

“Truth. Dad always said Mum’s personality was split between Ellie and me. Ellie got her singing talent and fun nature, and I got her romantic, dreamy side.”

“You and Ellie always were opposites.”

Izzy returned his smile. “When Mum became ill she nurtured Ellie’s talent, and I think when she died, Ellie wanted to show her singing talent for Mum’s benefit. To make her proud, you know? Although she never said it, we knew she gave up her music career for us.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Me, I was different. I would never want the limelight Ellie coveted. I guess I built on the stories Mum shared. She would always show me the family albums and let me play dress-up with her clothes. I loved looking at their wedding album. They looked so happy. Seeing Mum and Dad, how perfect that day was for them...” Her gaze directed him to the bottle and they both fixed intently on the spinning blur.

He cursed.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he muttered. “Wait, you didn’t ask the question first.”

“Too late,” she said, allowing a smug smile to curl her lips. “Why did you leave so suddenly that night?”

His drawn-out pause seemed to still the air.

“The night before Peter decided to show his disapproval with his fists. It was one time to many. There was a heated argument, and for the first time I wanted to give back some of the anger he had given me. I looked down at my clenched fist and knew I didn’t want to become the person he was. The night after, I decided it would be better for everyone if I left.”

Izzy held a breath as he spoke in a measured tone. He never spoke of family life, although his hurt was often palpable, and she thought it strange that he now called his father Peter. The thought of that man hurting Jack churned her insides. He always seemed like a cold, distant man. Nothing Jack ever did was right or earned his pride, so eventually Jack stopped trying. Yet Michael, his brother, was the golden boy. She wondered what the argument was about. She knew there was so much more of that story to tell but wouldn’t press him on it. Already she wanted to hold him tightly until her arms ached almost as much as her heart.

With her gaze fixed on Jack’s face, she twirled the bottle.

“Do you find me attractive? Truth or dare?

“Truth,” he answered evenly. “Yes.”

Izzy masked her flush of pleasure—and relief. Relief until Jack rested his large hand on the bottle again, his gaze fixed on her as he flicked his wrist.

Oh crap!

He didn’t smile with satisfaction this time; instead he rested his hands on his thighs and focused on Izzy until the sweep of her tongue over her dry mouth betrayed her nerves.

“Did you have feelings for me? Truth or dare?”

“Truth. Yes,” she said quickly. He said ‘did’ making her answer easy even though a slight wobble crept into her voice. He took his turn with the bottle. It turned a full circle. Was he cheating?

“Do you have feelings for me now?” he asked with a husky tone that heated her belly.

She never could lie. “Sexual ones, yes.” Because it could only be attraction she felt, couldn’t it?

Dropping her gaze from the intensity of his, she grabbed the bottle, putting her anxiety in her spin. As it circled around and around, her belly seemed to coil with it, increasing her awareness of the man sitting just an arm stretch away.

It stopped. Pointing straight in the direction of her need. She put the wine to her lips.

“What’s the importance of this property you need? Truth or dare.” And just like that the light behind his gray eyes seemed to switch off. The silvery shields snapped up almost like shutters. Impenetrable.

His huge shoulders rose with his sucked in breath. “Dare.”

His vehemence startled her. She wanted to know what secrets he hid, but more than that she wanted to see that light behind his eyes again. She wanted those shutters down. Right the way down.

Contemplating her bravery she rose to settle on her haunches. “Kiss me,” she demanded.

Those eyes sparkled to life. “What?”

“Kiss me. Kiss me like you promised—like a man.”

“Izzy—”

“I’m daring—no—I’m
asking
you to kiss me like a man.”

Her pulse thundered as she waited for what seemed like an agonizingly long time. Until finally the sound of a bottle clattering along the floor reached her ears just a second before his mouth took hers. He gave her exactly what she’d asked for, and more than she could ever have imagined. His lips were soft yet demanding as he captured her face in his hands, exploring her lips with precision and skill before sweeping inside her mouth, meeting her tongue as he tasted and unleashed her fervor.

Rising to her knees, moisture flooded between her legs as her breasts met a wall of exquisite muscle. She heard a groan. Hers? No, both of them, she decided as he wrapped his arms around her drawing her closer. She kissed him back with a desperation that betrayed her pent-up longing. If he was kissing her like a man then she would kiss him like a woman. If this was her only chance she would give it everything she had.

Everything.

Lifting her hand, she took a sensory journey along the curve of his pecs to settle at his neck, her fingers tantalized by his silky hair. All the while their kiss went on and on, his hot lips pressed against her mouth, working together greedily, never ceasing in their selfish exploration. With her arm raised, Jack seized the opportunity to slide his hand around to the bare skin exposed by the raised hem of her vest top. She arched in response, the heat of his palm searing her skin like a hot brand.

“Izzy,” he murmured against her mouth. “Stop undressing me.” Although her greedy lips refused to allow him a smile she sensed it was there.

Damn, she hadn’t realized she was. His protest was weak and now she was aware of the intention of her free hand she tugged at his shirt with fierce determination. Her body demanded his skin next to hers. With a ragged groan he tore his lips away and dragged his shirt over his shoulders. He tossed it down somewhere into the shadows. She drank in the sight of him with a hunger she had never felt before. She knew now she had always been waiting for him, always holding back.

The glow of candlelight bathed his skin with a kiss of gold. Golden highlights of perfection for her to touch. Trailing a finger down the contours of his abdomen, she reveled in his indrawn breath. Her eyes widened with satisfaction as her gaze followed the path of her finger to his waistband. There was no disguising the thickness of his arousal.

Her gaze flicked up to meet his as his hand snagged her wrist away. If his skin was golden then his eyes were pools of liquid silver.

“I think it’s your turn for show and tell.”

She swallowed the knot of apprehension in her throat. A man who had made a career in the world of beautiful people was asking her to bare herself to him. And she wore no bra for that comfort hug. “But what if I show and then you tell that you don’t like what you see?”

“I already do like what I see.”

His arms reached out, hands gripping her narrow waist as his thumbs made deceivingly lazy strokes that were in no way lazy in their effect. So agonizingly slow he stroked his way upward until he grazed the sensitive underside of her breasts. She sucked in a breath. Her nipples tingled and budded almost painfully as they begged for his attention. He obliged. Obviously he didn’t believe in favoritism as he lavished each peak with indulgent skill.

“I like what I feel too,” he whispered in a hot breath above her ear.

God, he was making her want to throw every cotton fiber she wore at him.

“Now I need to know how you taste.” His raspy words sent a tremor of longing through every nerve ending. With her flip-flops already removed her toes curled into hard wood as his dexterous thumbs skimmed her ribcage with the skill of a pianist and hooked under her vest.

He bunched the fabric in his palms before sliding it from her sensitized skin.

Clenching her hands at her sides, Izzy fought the urge to cover herself. In this game of Truth or Dare she would continue with the truth. This was her. Izzy. Bared for him. It was his decision now to take what she was offering.

Everything stilled. Only imperceptible breaths and the dance of candlelight existed. And the breaths weren’t hers. She had forgotten how. The lust-filled look he was giving made her feel like she wasn’t actually wearing her bunny face PJs and for him she was beautiful. Clutching her vest tightly in one hand until it resembled a handkerchief, his eyes danced over every inch of her, almost a physical caress. Her body seemed to be a conduit for his eyes and was absorbing every drop of heat until she felt like a catalyst of yearning.

Her breaths escaped hard and fast. She snatched the top from his hand and tossed it aside. That hand now tilted her face, his breath fanning over her lips before replacing it with his mouth. Moaning as his tongue swept inside, she arched into him, gasping into his mouth as her breasts met the solid wall of warmth and muscle. She looped her arms around his neck for support as her equilibrium faltered.

“Now,” he said against her mouth, “for the taste test.”

She gripped his biceps as he pressed her back until her breasts met his lips, with one strong arm supporting her. Starting at her neck, he feathered kisses on his journey, his free hand following the path. Without warning he swooped, taking one nipple into his mouth and feasting greedily as he sucked and teased until her belly coiled tighter and tighter.