He’d checked out her ass that long ago? Focus, Libby, but it was hard with his hand so close to other parts of her that wanted to be touched. “You said it looked like a map of Australia.”
“For the record, I was referring to your birthmark at the time, not your ass. Any more marks?”
“One.”
His fingers stroked a lazy pattern on her inner thigh in the area of the mark. He must have studied it extensively to find it so accurately without looking. The thought that he’d spent time studying her legs turned her on even more.
“Go on.”
“It’s on the underside of my left breast. A red spot.”
His gaze dropped to her cleavage. “You know I want proof.”
“Maybe later.”
His eyes smoldered with desire. “I’m going to hold you to it.”
What were they doing? They were ruining everything. “That’s all of them,” she forced out as she slid a shot glass toward him. He removed his hand from her leg to lift it to his lips.
This is a dangerous game, she thought to herself. But she was tired of fighting the way she felt for him. This wasn’t just untethered lust she felt—she wanted to sleep with him. Alcohol would give her an excuse.
He downed his shot. “I want a dare.”
She laughed. “Nope. I get to pick. Truth.”
His gaze drifted to her lips, making it hard for her to concentrate.
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Sixteen, in the back of my car with Penny Lindquist.”
“Was she your girlfriend?”
“For about a week. Apparently she had a crush on me, and when she found out I was graduating early to go to college, she propositioned me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Thus began a long line of women in my life.” For a moment it looked like he was about to say something more, but then he grinned. “My turn.”
“I have to drink first.” She grabbed a random glass and gulped it down, regretting the move. Vodka.
Noah turned his smoldering gaze on her. “Dare.”
“I don’t want a dare.”
“You get one anyway.” He leaned forward again, his eyes hooded and darker than normal.
She sucked in a breath, sitting back on her stool. “What is it?”
“Kiss me.”
Her gaze landed on his lower lip and her heart pounded against her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this nervous about kissing a man, but this was Noah. There were so many reasons to think this through more, but the alcohol was beginning to cloud her judgment.
“Are you sure?” she asked him quietly.
“Very. But only one kiss.”
Only one? Was he testing her first? Did he want to see if she was a good kisser before deciding whether she was worth the risk?
Did it matter? She wanted this too, so what was holding her back?
He sat on his stool, his right forearm draped along the counter. His legs were separated, so she spun to completely face him and tucked her legs between his. She leaned toward him, her face inches from his. “You didn’t say what kind of kiss. How do you know I won’t give you an innocent peck?”
“I don’t. The anticipation of what you’ll do is part of the thrill.”
She touched his lower lip with the tip of her finger, skimming it lightly while she held his gaze, their lips inches apart with only her finger separating them. His tongue darted out to lightly lick her finger and an electrical current shot to her core.
He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertip before pulling it down to his lap. “Are you going to torture me all night, Libby?” he asked, his voice deep and husky. “Or are you going to kiss me?”
“Is this torture for you, Noah?” she asked in a whisper.
“You have no idea.”
She moved her hand to his cheek and lowered her mouth to his, her tongue resuming the path her finger had taken. He gasped into her parted lips before she pulled his bottom lip between hers, raking her top teeth across it. He tasted of beer and vodka and the promise of so much more. His hand was suddenly on her neck, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, and her seductive playfulness vanished, replaced with want and raw need.
And then he pulled back, his breath coming in quick pants, his eyes wide with wonder. “That was by far the best dare I’ve ever given.”
She had a new appreciation for the dare aspect of their game too. She picked up a shot glass and held it out to him.
A grin lit up his face. “We are so going to regret this in the morning.”
Was he talking about the kiss, the drinking, or both? But they’d just boarded this runaway train, and she didn’t see any way off at this point. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow. I want my twenty-nine years of living to go out in a celebration. Truth.”
“I want a dare. Just like the one I gave you.”
“You don’t get to pick either. Truth.”
His eyes danced with playfulness at her response, relieving her anxiety that he’d be upset with her. “What deep dark secret do you want to know this time?”
“Have you ever been in love?”
His playfulness faded slightly. “Once.”
That surprised her. From what he’d told her, he’d never been with a woman long enough to fall in love. “Who was she?”
He shook his head.
“You’re not going to tell me? Why not?” Was it Donna? Had he cared for her more than he’d let on?
He picked up the shot glass. “I haven’t had near enough of these to tell you yet.” He downed the drink, slammed the glass down and pounded the counter, then turned his attention back to Libby. “Have you ever been in love?”
She didn’t need to consider her answer. She just picked up a glass and downed it. Vodka. There was no way she was admitting she loved him and only him.
“Damn,” he murmured, his gaze drifting from her mouth down her neck and hovering at her chest. “That bad?”
“Not enough of these.” She waved the empty glass and set it on the counter.
The whole thing was making her sad and she didn’t want to be sad. Tomorrow would be sad enough. She tilted her head to the side and grinned. “I think it’s time for a dare.”
His eyes lit up, which didn’t surprise her. He was more a dare man than a truth man. That thought sobered her. Man after man had lied to her, but she’d always counted on Noah to not be on that list. But what if she’d gotten that wrong too?
“Do you tell me the truth?” she asked, surprised the words blurted out without a filter. Maybe this drinking game had been a bad idea after all.
His head jutted back in surprise. “What do you think I’m lying about?”
She waved her hand wildly. “Nothing. Anything.”
“So you’re not accusing me of lying about anything in particular, or just in general.”
She was ruining their fun again, but she had to know. “Everybody lies, Noah. Parents lie to kids—the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus. People tell little white lies to make someone feel better—yes, your singing voice is beautiful. Your baby is the cutest thing ever. But I’m talking big lies.”