Truth or Dare: Party Games, Book 2

by Rhian Cahill

  She dragged the next box closer to her chair and leaned over to pull the top photo album out. Her breath caught when the album below was revealed. A white embossed leather cover with gold script, an intricate pattern around the edges and a couple entwined on a love seat in the centre. Her wedding album. Miki traced the fancy design with a fingertip. So much lay hidden under the cover. So many dreams and hopes that had never seen the light of day. So many lies. So much deceit.

  With trembling fingers, Miki picked up the album and, like it was a bomb about to explode, placed it gingerly on the table. The other albums were forgotten as she stared at that white cover now dull with age. It still felt soft under her fingertips. The leather, although in need of care, had stood the test of time and neglect. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the photos inside. Couldn’t remember packing it away.

  Reaching over for the dust rag, Miki carefully brushed the thin layer coating the album. She wasn’t sure how she felt about looking inside, but she knew she was going to. Lifting the cover to reveal the first page, she held her breath. What did it say about her that she couldn’t remember what picture would greet her? Her fingertips lightly traced the black and white shot. She and David running through the tunnel of bubbles their guests were blowing over them. The picture had been her favourite. How had she forgotten that?

  The next few pages were her and her bridesmaids getting ready. She laughed at the look on Frankie’s face. They’d had so much fun getting their hair and make-up done, pulling on their dresses. Miki studied the shot of her and Frankie admiring the beading in Miki’s gown. The memory of that day came flooding back, Frankie bitching about the silly froufrou skirt and the girly peach colour. For all her protesting, she’d been a knockout in that dress. Her friend had been willing to do anything for her even though she’d hated the groom-to-be.

  Miki frowned. Frankie had hated David with a passion, and at first she’d been upset that her future husband and best friend didn’t get along. But it had quickly become apparent that Frankie and David were happy to ignore each other as much as possible and be pleasant when they couldn’t. She had to wonder why Frankie had never said, “I told you so,” when things had started to unravel between her and David. Her best friend had lived up to the title by being everything Miki had needed every step of the way. Especially during the hard last few years of her marriage and then when David had gotten himself killed and the woman with him badly injured.

  She turned another page and stared at the picture taken minutes after she and David had spoken their vows. Happiness radiated off the young woman in the arms of her new husband. Miki remembered being so happy, deliriously happy. But David…he looked happy enough, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and he seemed to be holding her awkwardly as though he were uncomfortable. Miki looked closer. Why had she never noticed the strained edge to him before?

  He’d always been happiest in the limelight, and yet in this picture it was like he couldn’t wait for it to be over so he could move away. Miki’s stomach rolled. She quickly flipped over another page and examined the photos carefully. The bridal party, everyone pressed together so they could all fit in, but David was angled away from her while she leaned into him smiling a dazzling white smile. Another picture, another tense embrace. Her stomach clenched.

  Why had she never taken notice before? Had her complete joy over her wedding overshadowed her groom’s unhappiness? Because that’s what he was, unhappy. In every picture, on every page, on his face, in his eyes, his body language said he wasn’t happy. How could she miss that? Miki pushed the album aside, picked up a different one. This one held snapshots of their honeymoon. Again, there was stiffness in David’s embrace, but he did seem happy, at least his eyes were smiling in these pictures.

  She flicked through page after page, album after album. Each one showing their lives until the last one held mainly scenery, the odd snap of her or him, but none of them together. The last photo was taken two years before David’s death. When had she stopped documenting their adventures? Staring up at her was David, the angry creases in his forehead, the frown on his lips and the fire shooting from his eyes. He hadn’t wanted her at the off-road racing gala day. He’d been furious when she’d shown up. It wouldn’t be until two years later that she would understand why.

  Michelle had been there, one of the sponsor’s promo girls. It all made perfect sense. His disinterest in going places with her, the way he’d withheld information about where he was going, what he was doing. Miki closed her eyes, squeezed them tight against the pain lancing her temple, her heart. It had all been a lie. Every last day of her life was a lie. Tears flowed down her face, dripped from her chin. She’d thrown away her dreams and hopes on a man who’d never had an interest in catching them. In making them real.

  Miki shoved away from the table, swept the albums to the floor and stared at the jumbled mess she’d made.

  “Oh God,” she groaned, and bent at the waist as her stomach cramped. “What have I done?”

  She stood up, turned around. Took a step. Stopped. Turned back. Miki lashed out, kicked the photo album closest to her. Pain shot through her big toe and into her foot, but she didn’t care. Pain was real. She kicked out again. And again. Stomping on the pictures that couldn’t hide the truth. Jumping up and down, she smashed the white album, tearing the leather with her rage. Then she stopped as suddenly as she’d begun and gasped.

  Spinning on her heel, she ran from the room. “I have to go.” Miki searched for her shoes and keys. She’d wasted years on a relationship that never stood a chance and yet she’d been willing to walk away from one that felt as right as breathing just because it wasn’t normal. “Stupid.”

  Purse in hand and flip-flops on her feet, Miki raced out the door.

  Chapter Eight

  Dayne stopped what he was doing and stared down the hall. “Who the fuck could that be?” He wasn’t expecting an answer. Grant was in the other room. Tossing the dishcloth on the counter, he strode towards the front door as the doorbell rang again.

  “Yeah, yeah, hold your horses.”

  “Who’s that?” Grant met him in the foyer.

  “How would I know, I haven’t opened the fucking door yet,” he barked.

  Grant stepped aside and held up his hands.

  “Sorry, man.” Dayne sighed and wrapped his hand around the door knob. “It’s been five days and I’m starting to get a litt—Mikaila?”

  “I’m sorry. I should have called, I should have—”

  “No, what you should do is get your arse in this house right now.” Grant reached past Dayne to grip Miki’s forearm and yank her over the threshold.

  As soon as she’d cleared the door Dayne slammed it shut. He turned to find Miki standing there, with her head slightly bowed and her hands twisting together at her waist, her knuckles turning white. Dayne couldn’t think of what to say. The urge to take her in his arms was strong, but he was terrified she wasn’t real. That his stressed-out, frustrated psyche had conjured her up, and if he touched her she’d disappear in a puff of smoke.

  “I shouldn’t have come without calling.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have left.” Dayne regretted the words the second they left his mouth. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been going out of my mind not seeing you.”

  She looked up, their gazes connected and he saw hope shining in her blue eyes. “You have?”

  “Oh yeah, totally out of his mind.” Grant took a step forward but didn’t touch her again. “And mine.”

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’ll go.” She turned to leave and Dayne moved to block her way.

  “Hell, no. You’re not going anywhere.”

  Miki gasped and stepped back. “But—”

  “There you go with the buts again,” Grant said.

  “Why are you here, Miki?” Dayne asked.

  “I um, well, I was looking at photos.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “And well, he wasn’t happy and I was and I never knew.
How could I not know?”

  She made no sense, but Dayne didn’t have time to question her because words just kept falling out of her mouth.

  “I wanted things, things he was never going to be able to give me, and yet I married him anyway because I didn’t know, and Frankie never liked him and she was right about him in so many ways, but never once did she say ‘I told you so’ and doesn’t that make her the best best friend ever?”

  Did she even breathe? Dayne shook his head. Tried to clear the fog and make sense of anything that had spewed from her mouth.

  “The truth is I still want those things. Love, marriage, house, babies, the whole deal. I didn’t think I did, but I do. And I want them here, with you, both of you, if you’ll have me. I don’t know how we’d make it work or if I haven’t screwed everything up… I have, haven’t I? God, I’ve screwed it up.”

  “Whoa. I have no idea what you’ve just said. The only thing I got was you wanted to be here with us.”

  “Is that what you’re saying? You want to be with us?” Grant asked.

  Miki took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I dare you to give me another chance.”

  “Dare?” Dayne laughed. “Miki, honey, you had me the minute you showed up on the doorstep, no dare necessary.” He still kept his distance because the second he touched her she’d be minus her clothes and he’d be sliding inside her tight warm body with the erection he’d sported since opening the door.

  “I did?” Her eyes crinkled and her nose scrunched up. “Really?”

  “You still don’t believe we’re in this for the long haul? After last weekend? All the phone calls this week?” Grant reached out to brush the hair from her eyes. “But here’s the deal, Miki, we’ll take your dare but you have to play the game too. No holding back. Nothing but the truth about everything, good and bad.”

  She nodded and the tightness in Dayne’s chest eased. “Truth and dare, Miki. Are you game?”

  About the Author

  Years of slavery to four young aliens and their sire failed to squash the love of writing or reading hiding behind the facade of a boring stay-at-home mum. Escaping from the mother-ship with vivid imagination intact, Rhian uses her superpowers for good.

  Okay, so that’s not quite how it happened. A 20-year marriage to her very own hero and raising a family of four kept writing on the back burner, but with more time to spend on the things she loves most, Rhian and her accomplice, Mr. Muse, have taken over. Writing in a multiple of genres keeps life interesting and busy.

  An Aussie who’s spent years living overseas Rhian is now happily residing with her family back in their native land of down under. Rhian can be found in numerous places online where her love of talking is well satisfied.

  To learn more about Rhian and her writing visit her website, www.rhiancahill.com. You can contact Rhian at rhian@rhiancahill.com.

  Let the games begin…

  Suck and Blow

  © 2011 Lexxie Couper

  Talent agent Frankie Winchester is a hellion. Her motto is all a girl needs is a fun time, a fast car and an awesome masseur on speed dial. There’s only one person who could beat her at anything. Alec. Bane of her high-school existence, a kid whose parents were as working class and loving as hers were rich and distant.

  When celebrity landscape architect Alec Harris spots Frankie at an exclusive Sydney house party, everything comes rushing back. The memory of being the “cheap-money” kid, trying and failing to prove himself—and impress his dream girl, Frankie Winchester.

  Unexpectedly partnered in a wildly sexy game, the delicious friction ignites a scorching sexual tension. But there’s more than a playing card trapped between them. Frankie refuses to admit that kiss shook her to the core. Alec wants nothing less than her full surrender.

  Warning: C’mon, the book’s called Suck and Blow. What more warning do you need?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Suck and Blow:

  Someone ran into him. Hard. A firm, warm body slamming into his side as if the person hadn’t been watching where they were going but was in a damn hurry to get where ever it was.

  He stumbled to his left, a chuckle rising to his lips as he turned to face the someone, his hands instinctively reaching out to steady them on their feet, his fingers curling around biceps both smooth and firm.

  And looked straight down into the wide, blue-grey eyes of Francesca The Gun Winchester.

  Oh, boy.

  His mouth went dry. Just like that. His mouth went dry and his breath caught in his throat. The precise moment their eyes met, ten years were wiped from his life and he was the flustered, horny teenager aching to impress the girl every guy at his school and hers wanted to date.

  “Errrr…” He licked his lips, his pulse quickening as he watched her gaze track the path of his tongue.

  Say something, you idiot.

  “I’m not really sure,” he murmured, his voice deeper and huskier than normal, “but I think you kiss better than I do.”

  The words fell from his lips, uninhibited by his befuddled schoolboy’s brain, each one making his heart beat faster. Jesus Christ, Harris, you are an idiot.

  He couldn’t stop looking at her. He couldn’t remove his hands from her arms. He couldn’t let her go. She was right here before him, staring at him with an expression he didn’t have a hope in hell of deciphering on her exquisite face. Her smooth skin was warm against his calloused palms, her soft, sweet perfume threading into his body with every breath he took.

  Christ, Harris. Do something, will you?

  But before he could, Frankie raised one straight eyebrow and lifted her chin. “I don’t think we can be certain based on one kiss, do you?”

  Alec’s heart slammed hard into his throat. “In that case,” he said, lowering his head a fraction closer to her, “you better kiss me again.”

  “Should I now? Maybe you should be the one to kiss me?”

  “And have you say I beat you once again?” He shook his head, enjoying their banter far too much. His balls ached and his dick was so hard it hurt. He wanted to kiss her like hell, but here he was—as usual—loving the sound of her voice.

  Storm-grey eyes studied him from behind half-lowered lids, a small grin playing with her lips. “Should I go find a playing card again? Will that help?”

  “Depends? Do you need a Ten of Hearts to hide behind?”

  One dark, straight eyebrow lifted. “I don’t hide from anything.”

  “And yet, I’m noticing a distinct lack of kissing going on here.”

  “Maybe you’re not as clever with that tongue of yours as you thought?”

  He chuckled. “To quote someone very close to me, ‘I don’t think we can be certain based on one kiss, do you?’.”

  Frankie’s chin tilted. “In that case, you better kiss me again.”

  Alec lowered his head closer still to her upturned face. “If you insist, Fran—”

  She didn’t let him finish. Her lips found his and there was nothing chaste or hesitant about her kiss. She dipped her tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers resting lightly on his collarbone before, with a low groan, she pressed her body to his. Her breasts crushed against his chest, sending dizzying waves of pleasure through him. Her thighs moved against his legs, their smooth, leather-encased length playing with his senses. Ten years ago those legs had been the stuff of his unbidden fantasies—legs both soft and toned he’d imagined wrapped around his waist. Now, it wasn’t just his waist he wanted them wrapped around. Now, he wanted them wrapped around his head as his tongue explored the sweet, damp slit of her pussy.

  Now, he wanted…

  She rose up onto her tiptoes, stroking the stiffening pole of his cock with the soft mound of her groin, sucking his tongue into her mouth as she did so and it was his turn to groan.

  Jesus, she was driving him wild.

  His hands raked her back. He wanted to touch her. All of her.

  Guilty pleasures can heat
the coldest winter night…

  Winter Fire

  © 2010 Jess Dee

  A Red Hot Winter Story

  There’s never been any question in Rachel Ashberg’s mind. Jackson Brooks is the one, and they both know it. The problem? Thanks to his unbreakable rule—never date his twin sister’s friends—he’s completely off-limits. Even if they can’t imagine being with anyone else.

  It’s been over two years since their last encounter, when they gave in—just once—to their passion. Now, as the Brooks twins’ milestone birthday approaches, Rachel and Jackson are about to meet again at a gorgeously mountain resort. Needing something to take the edge off the desire that has never faded, she indulges in a fling with sexy stranger Garreth Halt. He even makes her forget Jackson for a while. Or…maybe not.

  When she mentions Jackson’s name in passing, Garreth picks up on all the hidden undertones in her voice. And he brings Jackson into their bed, if only in a fantasy they play out together. Funny thing about Garreth’s fantasies, though. Even the most improbable, impossible ones have a way of becoming reality…

  Warning: Enough heat is contained within these pages that you won’t even notice the winter cold. You might fall in love with Jackson—the real-life hero, determined to protect his sister from further pain—but it’s the handsome stranger, Garreth, who’ll take your breath away.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Winter Fire:

  “It’s good to escape from the city for a while though. Isn’t it beautiful here?”

  He grinned at her. “Let’s just say the mountains became a whole lot more interesting in the last few minutes…”

  She laughed out loud. “You really are flirting, aren’t you?” And was she ever responding. A tingling awareness flowed through her, an open recognition of the energy that crackled between them.

  “Is it working?” he drawled earnestly.