Truth or Dare, by Brenda Williamson

Truth Or Dare

by Brenda Williamson

Available from: Amber Quill Press / Amber Heat
ISBN: 978-1-61124-222-5

Caught up in a game of Truth or Dare, Laura finds herself in a nightclub, dressed in next to nothing, and nervously awaiting her turn to perform in a pole dancing contest. To make matters worse, her old boyfriend, handsome Mark Cantrell, appears at the club with his new bride. Upset by long-buried emotions, Laura wants to run for home, yet jealously roots her in place.

When a twist is thrown into the competition and Laura has to have a man perform with her, Mark actually volunteers to be her partner. From that point, Laura struggles with the right and wrong of seducing a married man, especially when Mark abandons his wife into his brother’s care and offers to drive her home.

Desperate to feel loved once more, will Laura lose the battle with her conscience?


...I slapped my hand down on the wood surface as if I were blind to seeing a sheet of paper. “Where is it?” I cried weakly, looking up and down the bar, spotting nothing except beer bottles and drinking glasses on small white napkins.

“What are you looking for?” Bev asked.

“That entry sheet. I’ve change my mind.”

“You can’t change your mind. They’ve already taken that paper away and given it to Paul to make the announcements.”

A round of loud hooting and hollering forced me to glance at the stage. Meg’s beaming smile showed how well she felt she had performed. In my mind, she was already a winner.

“Here, drink this.” Bev shoved a small glass into my hand.

I gulped down the whiskey shot while looking at Mark. He had that “aw shucks, anyone could have done it” expression he always had after an amazing catch during a high school football game.

Then his gaze landed on me. His expression changed.

Turn away. Turn away. Turn away. I couldn’t.

Trapped by the happy twinkle in his blues eyes and a smile that seemed meant for only me, I stood helpless. That old feeling of love had me in its clutches. Was Mark experiencing the same sort of déjà vu? He stared at me with a similar spellbound stillness like an animal trapped by the lights of oncoming traffic. Then he went further with his intense look. He stripped me naked, not literally, but thoroughly. His gaze rolled downward as he traced the rim of his lips with his tongue. He paused at my breasts. Did he see my nipples harden, denting out the fabric of my bikini top? I put a hand to my chest as I took a deep breath. The feel of my denim jacket reminded me he couldn’t see what I was wearing underneath. It didn’t mean I didn’t imagine the feel of his tongue pressed against my breast, massaging the ache in the stiffened tips.

Trembling, I squeezed my knees together to fend off the sharp twitches releasing moisture and damping my panties. It was awful the way he had the capability to stir an orgasm from me with his lustful perusal of my body.

“Do you see the way he’s eyeing you?” Bev whispered. “That’s not the kind of look a married man gives another woman, if he’s in love with his wife.”

I had noticed. My heart rate had elevated several notches. I struggled to breathe evenly. More importantly, I tried to remember how to act normal. “Who?” I asked, thinking pretending ignorance might get a grip on my sanity...

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