Wicked Dare: A Romantic Comedy

by Kira Graham

  “Firstly, gross. Other men are weird and gross and hairy and nasty. Cameron waxes his chest and legs,” I say, grinning when Gia pulls a face. “I like smooth guys, guys—what can I say? Anyway. Like I was saying, other men are gross to me. And Cam’s just… special. He gets me. He knows I’m seriously competitive, and he doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. Granted, I can’t do the whole Dares thing with him because business is so out of my wheelhouse, but he likes the hunts and the games that come along with them, and not only does he enjoy it—he encourages me to cheat and get bloodthirsty. Hell, he helps me,” I say, laughing when Gia touches her hair where there’s still a slight orange tint.

  “So, you love him,” Lei says, making Gia and me sputter.

  At least I start to, but soon enough I stop and then I’m frowning because, hey, that isn’t quite as ridiculous as I was thinking. In fact, as I think about what she just said and then think about the fact that Cameron and I have been practically inseparable for weeks, I can’t say… that I don’t. Love him. Hmm…

  “What’s that face for?” Gia asks, frowning when I hum.

  “Nothing. Just… I can’t say she’s all wrong,” I sigh, shocking my sister so dumb that I laugh with Lei when Gia gapes, her mouth opening and closing.

  “You love him?”

  “I mean, maybe? He’s great. And like Lei was saying, I only want him. That must mean something? And, Lei, to answer your question, I think that may be the whole answer. Maybe I do love Cam, and that’s why I don’t want anyone else,” I say, shrugging because this isn’t rocket science.

  I just never thought of it in terms of love. Yeah, he’s great in bed, and yes, we’re really good together because we’re friends. It just never occurred to me to think about love because, like Gia was saying yesterday, we’re so different. Cameron manscapes and primps. I barely wash my eye crusts out some days, which he finds revolting and doesn’t hesitate to tell me. He plans and coordinates his clothes, while I wear what’s clean only, something that is hard sometimes because I can’t do laundry. Okay! I don’t like doing laundry. Hell. You can’t lie and say you do, either. Cameron is into cars and shiny things, and I laughed myself nearly hoarse when he gave me a diamond bracelet one night, probably expecting me to swoon over it.

  I didn’t. I don’t like diamonds. I know, I know; I have a brain disease or something for feeling that way—but come on, what’s the point? They’re just transparent rocks that sit there and do nothing but sparkle. I could get the same look from a lump of polished plastic.

  Cameron is also very into things like sports and hiking and mountain climbing. Or he used to be. I’m thinking he’s never going to take me on a date that entails hiking, ever again, without thinking of the pain he had to endure the last time he took me for a hike. He had to ice his balls with a bag of frozen peas for an hour before he stopped sobbing. And no, I don’t care that he challenged me to a race or that he’s heartbroken over that ordeal. I don’t hike. I grew up in New York City. The only hike I know is when I tell other people to take one.

  Whatever. The point is, we are nothing alike. About the only thing we have in common is that we’re both obsessed with winning, and, okay, we’re really great at sex, but once again, it’s the competitive spirit that keeps that fire burning so strong. We’re insatiable most of the time, and the other times we’re usually locked in a battle, trying to outlast one another. I won last night when poor Cam passed out during the last round. I also won because I kept going and got one more orgasm than he did before I fainted dead out on top of him.

  “Well, that’s good,” Gia snorts, making her expression blank before I can look at her to catch the meaning of the undertone in her words.

  Whatever. I don’t even care right now, I think, going back to the cake and putting on the finishing touches. By the time I’m done, it’s just after eleven and it’s with groans that we store the cake away and lock up, trudging up to my apartment.

  “You guys can crash here. Don’t argue, Lei. It’s way too late to travel now, and besides, you know Connor’s just going to throw a fit if I let you out of my sight. Let’s all get some shut-eye,” I say tiredly, locking up and pointing to the fold-out sofa.

  “Oh, come on. Let me at least sleep with you,” Gia grumbles. “I can’t sleep with her. What if she goes for a feelsky in the middle of the night?”

  “You wish, carrot,” Lei snorts, kicking off her shoes and dropping her skirt and blazer. “What? I don’t sleep in clothes. Count yourselves lucky I’m keeping this on,” she huffs, pointing to her panties, a nude tank, and a very, very nice body.

  “Damn, girl, you got it going on,” I mutter, giving her a clinical once-over that would make a whore blush.

  But, goddamn, she is one good-looking woman, and she’s got a rack I would kill for. As it is, I hate my small boobs, but according to Cam they’re perfect. Man must drink on the sly.

  “Thanks. I’m going to assume there are pillows and blankets here somewhere?”

  “Gia knows where they are. And stop pouting! You can’t sleep next to me because the last time you did, I woke up with my lips glued together.”

  “So?” Gia huffs, making me groan and eye Lei, who’s looking at me quizzically.

  “Not these,” I mumble, pointing to my lips and then quirking a brow until her eyes go wide.

  “Gross!”

  “How do you think I felt? I had to touch those flappers,” Gia pouts, fighting a smile. “Come on, it was funny.”

  “I peed all over myself for an entire day until the glue diluted in my pee and came unstuck. No. You’re sleeping with her. Don’t worry, Lei. She won’t touch you, because she actually likes you,” I assure Connor’s ex, grinning when Gia gasps.

  “Do not.”

  “Do too. And don’t lie. You shared a donut with her.”

  “Only because she begged me like a hobo,” Gia snarls, sniffing harshly. “Whatever. I’m going to sleep. Tomorrow is my fist day at my new job, and I need to look decent. ’Night,” she huffs, pulling the sofa bed out and grabbing other linens.

  I don’t give a shit about their comfort so I go to my bedroom, strip down to my underwear—after locking the door and putting a chair beneath the knob—and then I’m passed-out on my bed before I can have a moment to think, thanking God I left Luke sleeping in the living room because I am way too beat to share a bed with a huge dog who farts under the covers and uses my feet as chew toys.

  I must be asleep for a nanosecond before I feel the bed depress, and I smile, the feel of a warm body against me and strong arms coming around me causing a soft warmth to bathe me.

  “Night, honey,” I whisper, falling back to sleep almost instantly.

  One thing I don’t take note of is the lack of answer—and that, my friends, is going to be a problem later on. I’m just telling you now before you have a heart attack later.

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.

  Chapter 14

  Cameron

  “Jesus,” Peter groans, shuffling into my kitchen in a suit, tie, and a head of hair that looks like a badger attacked him.

  I grunt in agreement, bone-weary tired, yawning so hard my jaw keeps cracking, and still so bleary-eyed that I’m not fit for function. Unfortunately I don’t have a choice but to go to work today because, despite the late night and only getting in at three this morning, we’re still under pressure, and Keenan hasn’t made it easy on us either.

  This deal isn’t at all a part of our usual Dares, but it is no less important, because we’re over budget and well over time on the construction phase of something Keen and I have been working on for the last few months.

  “I need more sleep,” Connor whines as he walks in a moment later, his suit immaculate, his hair styled but his eyes so droopy he looks like he’s a second away from falling asleep on his feet.

  “You and me both,” I groan, downing my third espresso and going for another because if I don’t, there won’t be any working for me at this point.
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  “You call Lu last night?”

  “Nope. I love her, I do, but I was dead beat—and, besides, you know what she does if you wake her up,” I mutter, snorting when Connor and Peter both laugh and look at my balls. “Fuck off. They’re still there.”

  “Just checking,” Con laughs, grabbing a full cup of black coffee that he downs despite the heat before he gets another and leans back against the island, yawning wide.

  “Well, should you be checking if Lei survived Gia?” I ask, my own smile blooming when he groans.

  “I don’t even want to know, man. At this point I’m just lucky to be thinking at all. I can’t believe Feldman screwed those contracts up this badly,” he snarls, still pissed off and looking for a fight despite the fact that I fired that asshole four days ago.

  “Relax. The permits are all up to date, and we’re on track right now with those. All we need is for the construction teams to move faster. I called Veil yesterday, and he promised he’d have it done on the condition that we pay double for the extra manpower. It’ll get done, Con. We just need to nail down the last few details and we’re good,” I murmur, checking my watch because if I get out now I can run by Sugar Buns and get a few kisses before work.

  “Thank fuck it’s—oh, shit. Tell me one of you ordered a Bonus Box,” Peter pleads, his face falling sharply when I shake my head and Connor pouts.

  “Sorry, bro. I forgot—and you know Lu. If you don’t order, you don’t get,” I say, laughing because last week her mom stopped by for one, and Lu refused to give her anything.

  It devolved so fast and so hard that by the time they came to an agreement I was still in the dark. That is until her mom stood in a crowd with her church friends and was forced to yell out the name P. Ennis. I don’t think I have ever laughed that much in my life, hearing a middle-aged church woman yell out a word her husband told me she doesn’t use. Ever. Because it’s unseemly. She did it for donuts, though, and I’m proud to say, Lu didn’t include one Mama Killer in her box. Gia did, however, try, and I nearly bust a gut when Patty flipped her off, using her Bible to cover the move.

  Gia laughed herself sick at that and told her mom she’s going to burn in hell, and from there it devolved into a shade fest that showed me just how great Patty is. Because she’s actually quite funny and one of those mothers who loves to drive her kids nuts.

  “Dammit. I really needed one of those today,” Peter sighs, scrubbing a hand through his skull trim that’s growing longer by the day.

  “Because….?” I ask, leading the way out of the kitchen and grabbing my briefcase as I go for the door.

  “Oh, Kat,” Connor laughs, giving me pause just as I’m stepping into the elevator.

  “Kat? What about Kat?” I ask, frowning when Peter grimaces.

  “She won’t go out with him,” Connor laughs, his tired eyes glowing with glee. “Says he’s ‘too uptight.’ ”

  “Me!” Peter grumbles, pointing at his chest. “Me of all people. Can you believe that?”

  Well, actually I can, I think, snorting but keeping that to myself because the poor bastard looks ready to cry. It’s true, though. Peter actually works out the price of his meals before he pays a bill and he calculates the gratuity to the cent, something he can afford to forego because the asshole is rolling in money. He also has a thing about cleanliness that you would know if you ever went to his office, which I don’t anymore because the hassle just isn’t worth it. Oh, and he irons his freaking underwear, himself, because he doesn’t like his housekeeper handling his shorts. Not that I blame the man. I’ve met his mom and dad before, exactly once, and I can fully understand why Pete is the way he is. They’re sticklers for perfection—and you wouldn’t know it, since Peter used to have long hair and the man is covered in tattoos from the chest down, but Peter himself is so fastidious that it takes him months to finally sleep with a woman because he practically scrutinizes their lives before he’s willing to “commit.”

  “Well, Pete, maybe she’s just not into you,” I say softly, getting a snort for my efforts.

  “Are you nuts? Look at me,” he snarls, waving at his face with pursed lips. “I’m angelic of face, asshole. Women fall all over themselves to date me.”

  “Well, not Kat, apparently,” I laugh, snickering when he groans.

  “This is bullshit. She won’t even be my friend—you know that? How the hell am I supposed to get her Bamboozled and married to me if she—” He cuts off mid-rant, and I hear Connor curse, and then his words hit me and I freeze, my whole body going cold with a dread I don’t think I have ever experienced before.

  Not even that time Mom decided to give me the sex talk when I was fifteen. Which, by the way, I still have nightmares about. No one, and I mean no one, should have to sit and listen to their mother talk about peepees and tatas for an hour. No one. It scarred me so badly I only got over it and had my first fuck when I was seventeen.

  “What did you say?” I ask slowly, praying so hard I think if the Lord is listening he’s either laughing his ass off right now, or pities me so much I’m due a freebie into heaven.

  “What? Nothing,” Peter mutters, his eyes wide while his pale face starts to glisten with sweat.

  “Come on—he was just talking shit, Cam. We gotta go,” Connor mutters, his own throat working because I won’t budge from the lobby and I won’t stop staring at them through narrowed eyes.

  “No,” I rasp, my heart beating like a drum.

  I don’t know if it’s fear, elation, or outright terror that holds me still, but what I can say is that I feel like I’ll pass the hell out if someone doesn’t say something. Peter and Connor are looking at me with wide eyes, and I feel like I’m going to faint when Connor finally sighs, curses, and glares at Peter.

  “Nice.”

  “I’m sorry, okay. I’m tired, I’m hungry—and, dammit, I’m a little heart-sore over here, Con. It might be fine for you that Gia friended the shit out of you, but I actually want a relationship, you know,” Peter mutters, giving me a sheepish look while I stand and have a mini panic attack.

  “Just tell me,” I growl, my heart fluttering so hard it feels like I’m going to throw up.

  “Look, it was just supposed to be a practical joke,” Connor grunts, his face a shade of pale that isn’t helping my nerves.

  “Connor!”

  “I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry. At first it was just supposed to be a prank, and I thought it was a prank, Cameron. I really did. In fact we all thought so until Gia couldn’t keep her peace anymore and told me. I was shocked too, man. Believe me, I was shocked and I was pissed at her,” Connor huffs, scrubbing at the back of his neck before he groans and closes his eyes. “You married Lu. There—I said it!” he yells, before he flops against the wall and shudders.

  I can’t move. I can’t think. I can barely breathe. And at first I want to laugh; I want to believe that this is a joke and I really, really want to have someone tell me this can’t be real. It really can’t be. We’re in New York. That means you have to apply with the office of the city clerk and then wait twenty-four hours before you can get married. That requires both parties to show up, though, to complete the application, and since I didn’t do that and I damn well know Lu didn’t either, I’m pretty sure this is a joke.

  I start laughing now, clamping a hand over my heart and shaking my head at Connor.

  “Nice try, fucker,” I mutter, chuckling as I turn to leave, my heart still beating fast but thankfully not galloping anymore.

  Christ. Can you imagine the way Lu would react if that had been real? She’d tear everyone and everything apart—and if I thought her grip on my nuts was painful, I’m almost sure she’d take my whole dick off for something like this.

  “Cam!” Connor yells as I hail down a taxi because I’m too beat to drive today. “Cameron, dammit, stop laughing and listen,” he wheezes as he catches up and slides into the cab with me.

  Peter takes the front, and after I give the cabbie the address, I sit back an
d close my eyes again. Shit—I should have slept a little longer, but if I get this done then I can get Lu early today and we can just chill tonight. Maybe tonight will be the night we actually do more than screw, I think, snorting because the likelihood is very slim. We’re just not there yet, it seems, because anytime we’re alone, it’s on. The night before last, for example. She sucked me off while I leaned against the front door, and what she lacked in experience she more than made up for in effort. I blew my load embarrassingly fast once she got on her knees and took me into her mouth—but in my defense, you haven’t ever seen Lu on her knees while she grins around a dick.

  The woman is wicked and sexy and so damn cheeky I’ve taken to slapping her butt whenever I get the chance because she’s naughty all over. And she damn well enjoys it too. Guess that’s why we just clicked and why becoming friends first was the best thing we could have done. I didn’t like it at first, but I have to say that having sex with a woman I not only know, but like, is a completely different experience. It’s real now and meaningful, though I’d never say that to Lu because she’d laugh me out of the room with her scathing ass.

  “Cam—”

  “Whatever, man. What is this, one of Keenan’s pranks?” I ask, laughing derisively. “We said we wouldn’t let that sneaky ass get one over on us,” I accuse, though I do laugh because if this is where Keenan’s going now, that shit is a little funny.

  Over the top, for sure. But funny. I wonder how he would feel if I went personal—

  “Cameron, dammit, this isn’t a joke, for God’s sakes!” Connor bellows, wincing when the cabbie grunts and glares at him through the rearview mirror. “You are married to Lu. Really, legally married to her,” he insists, sharing a look with Peter who looks at me and nods with a wince.