The Dare by Lauren Landish
Have you ever had one of those really bad days at work?
You know, one where your sexy AF boss catches you photocopying your backside in his office?
No? Just me then?
I blame my bestie and partner in chaos.
She challenged me with a not-so-innocent dare that I should’ve flat out declined.
But I’m an adrenaline junkie, and now, here I am.
I know it sounds crazy, and daredevil tendencies aside, I definitely went too far to get his attention.
But you haven’t seen him.
Colton Wolfe. My boss.
Tall, dark, and handsome, with the sexiest British accent I’ve ever heard.
His only flaw? That he’s completely oblivious to what’s been right in front of him all along.
Well, he was until a few minutes ago.
Remember those good old days?
Before I got caught bare-assed and making nice with the copy machine, and before I was totally getting fired?
But wait. Maybe I’m not.
If I can take on the biggest dare of all.
Making Colton Wolfe fall in love with me.
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Excerpt The Dare by Lauren Landish
Neither of us is particularly good at putt-putt, and given the odd looks we’re getting, we are majorly overdressed for this activity, but it is fun. We figure out how hard, or rather how gently, to hit the balls by the second hole, but my ball gets trapped in a whale’s belly on the fourth. We have to answer a riddle to gain exit, but that only takes a couple of tries. The fifth, sixth, and seventh hole, I stand behind Elle under the guise of helping her line up her shot. I can say that my aim isn’t much better than hers, but my cock enjoys nestling against her ass.
It should feel wrong. It feels right.
It should feel fast. It feels impossibly slow.
“On the ninth and last hole, Colton Wolfe has the point advantage. This could be make-it or break-it for the English upstart.”
Elle’s voice is thrown low and dramatic, mimicking a sportscaster as I prepare for my winning shot. I spread my feet wide, adjusting my grip on the tiny club and looking left to aim before settling my eyes on the neon yellow ball in front of me.
My competitive nature is taking over, and I want to win, especially with the score this close. But there’s something else I want to win even more than bragging rights.
I relax and instead lean casually on the club. “So, what do I get if I win?”
Elle’s lips purse as though she’s fighting a smile. “Ooh, you’re learning. Are we wagering here?”
“I dare you . . . if I win, you come home with me. If you win, I go home with you.”
It’s a bold move, but I didn’t get to the position I’m in by making small steps. I think Elle, of all people, will appreciate the go-big or go-home American-style gamble.
She sucks in a breath, her breasts rising deliciously as they beg for my kisses, nibbles, and tongue.
“That’s against the rules. Seriously, there are rules.”
My brows drop down. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of this? There are rules to this dare game you enjoy?” I make it apparent that I think she’s making things up on the fly, but she shakes her head.
“Tiffany and I have been doing this for a long time, and we’ve learned a few things, some the hard way. Rule one, nothing that’ll hurt someone, ourselves included. Rule two, no sex. Rule three, nothing illegal.” She pauses so that her words sink in. “Your dare violates rule two.”
I hold up a finger. “Counter. The rules you have for your game with Tiffany do not have to be the rules for our game. They can be different, as long as we agree to them.”
To neither of our surprise, she opens her mouth to argue. It’s like it’s a habit with her. But I hold up a staying hand.
“Also, I find it interesting that I merely dared for you to come home with me, or vice versa. You’re the one who mentioned sex. What if I’d wanted you to organize my closet?”
It’s a deadpan joke again, and I wonder if she’ll respond favorably because it feels like another bold move to make in the midst of her setting boundaries.
“Do you want me to organize your closet?” she retorts, crossing her arms. I think she’s aiming for a stern look, but it only serves to press her tits up.
I chuckle. “Of course not. I have people for that.” She throws her hands in the air, frustrated, but she’s smiling, enjoying our banter. I am too. More seriously, I say, “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, Elle. I’m daring you to listen to your heart, listen to your body, and okay, maybe your mind a little bit, because I don’t want you to regret anything. I dare you . . . to do what you want with me.”
Fuck, that gleam in her eye is sexy as sin and I know I’m in trouble. I may have met my match with this woman, and I couldn’t be more pleased about it.
“Dare accepted. Though how do you know I don’t want you to come home and scrub my toilet?”