The Dating Dare Read online
Page 4
Once they got through the front entrance, Seth quickly looked left and right. A vise wrapped around his lungs and squeezed, nerves jangling through his veins. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but to anyone watching, he was sneaking around with an alcohol-drenched woman in his arms. This had to be the most ludicrous situation he’d ever found himself in.
He adjusted Tara so he could bear more of her weight, and resolutely walked down the hall to his room. He grabbed the key card he’d been holding in his mouth and waved it against the sensor, all the while balancing her against his hip. Opening the unlocked door, he backed into the room, half dragging Tara with him. When the door shut behind them, Seth sighed with relief. They were finally safe in his room.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, winded from the exertion. He righted Tara in his arms, wondering where to settle her, when she raised her head and looked straight at him.
“Seth,” she said with surprising clarity.
Her eyes were focused on him, burning with intensity. For a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him, and his blood sizzled. But it wouldn’t be right to kiss her. While he thought of gentle ways to refuse her—to remind her that they had time—Tara bent at her waist and hurled on his shoes. He quickly moved to her side and held her hair back in one hand and thumped her back with the other.
“You okay?” he asked as dry heaves wracked through her body. He rolled his eyes at himself. It was highly unlikely that she felt okay.
“Stop. No more.” She weakly waved her hand behind her, trying to grab his arm to stop the thumping. “Bathroom.”
When her knees buckled, Seth caught her by her arms and led her to the sink, where she rinsed her mouth swaying left and right. He hovered near her to catch her in case she fell, but she managed to stay upright.
“Better?” Maybe she was awake enough to tell him her address. “Do you want me to take you home? Can you tell me your address?”
Instead of answering, she sank down to the floor with a miserable moan.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered.
After propping her up against a wall, he grabbed a towel and held it under running water. He returned to her side with the wet towel, and cleaned her clammy face and neck. Tara had fallen asleep again and didn’t stir at his ministrations. He was about to lift her off the floor to carry her to bed when he noticed that the front hem of her skirt was soiled. He couldn’t let her sleep wearing her own vomit, so Seth took a steadying breath and got to work.
He pulled her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, and unzipped the back of her dress. After he leaned her back against the wall, he maneuvered her floppy arms free and dragged the dress down, making a heroic effort not to stare as her lacy black bra revealed itself to him. God, she was so fucking sexy. He took a deep breath and doggedly tugged her dress down further, preparing himself to be slammed with a matching pair of black panties. But she surprised him with her choice of … What exactly was she wearing? It covered her up from right under her breasts, down to her mid-thighs. Ah, it must be one of those body contouring things. He shook his head, working the dress down past her legs and off of her. She was perfect. She didn’t need shapewear.
“I can’t stand wearing this thing,” she mumbled as though she’d read his mind.
Then she promptly tugged and squirmed until she pushed her undergarment down to the top of her hips. Yeah, baby. Take it off. What? Where the hell did that come from? But, of course, he knew exactly where it came from, so he told his dick to shut up. He refused to take advantage of her in even the smallest way while she was drunk. And to prove that his head still ruled him, he averted his eyes before she exposed more of her glorious body.
“Oh, God,” he groaned when her underwear flew past him. He squeezed his eyes shut when her bra followed in its wake. The woman he’d been hungering after all night was naked in his bathroom, but he couldn’t do anything about it because his mother raised him right. Even so, the temptation to peek at her was too powerful. “Stay right here. Let me bring you a T-shirt.”
He went to his luggage and fished out his one and only T-shirt, the one he’d been planning to wear tomorrow. He brought it back to the bathroom, keeping his eyes focused on a spot over Tara’s half-prone form. Seth pulled the T-shirt over her wobbling head and pushed her limp, uncooperative arms through, all the while making a valiant effort not to notice how soft her skin felt.
While his shirt was huge on her, she was undeniably naked underneath it. And his continued effort to keep his eyes averted was about to burst some blood vessels. He needed to get her under the covers. Seth hugged Tara tightly against his chest, and heaved to a stand. He carried her to the bed, and laid her down on it. She was sleeping peacefully, her features soft and relaxed. A rush of affection flowed through him as he arranged the duvet around her. He stepped away before he acted on his impulse to drop a kiss on her forehead.
Next up was the puke pile. Without overthinking it, he grabbed a lined trash can and a whole roll of toilet paper, and got to work. He cleaned up everything he could, but he couldn’t do anything about the stain on the carpet. He would leave the maid a big tip for the rest of the cleanup.
After a long, hot shower, Seth put on a pair of boxers. It was as decent as he could get with his unexpected guest wearing his only spare T-shirt. Being careful not to disturb Tara, he slipped under the covers, and turned his back to her. The only way he could fall asleep was to pretend she wasn’t there. Fat chance. Every hair on his body stood at attention, acutely conscious of the beautiful woman next to him. He might as well give up on sleep and read a book on his phone. But as the minutes ticked by, Tara’s warm presence settled his restlessness and he drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
Tara lifted her arms high above her head and stretched down to her pointed toes. When she released her taught muscles, her body relaxed into a gelatinous blob, and a satisfied sigh escaped her lips. She loved this part of waking up. The first stretch of the day, where you surrender every muscle in your body. It was one of life’s simplest but greatest pleasures.
She turned to her side, keeping her eyes closed, like a lazy cat sitting on a patch of sunlight. It took her a couple seconds to realize she wasn’t alone. With a chill of alarm slithering down her spine, she forced her eyes open. Her heart took a flying leap into her throat as she stared into Seth’s beautiful sleeping face.
“No,” she choked, holding herself very still.
She stomped down on the panic that was rising inside her, and forced herself to rewind her mind to last night. She remembered playing truth or dare with him at the brewery, and her impulsively agreeing to date him. It had seemed a perfectly sane idea at the time. She was lonely; he was hot. A no-strings-attached month of dating sounded like exactly what the doctor ordered.
But her memory turned hazy after the part where they toasted to the dating dare. Oh, God. Did I sleep with him? Well, it was obvious she slept with him. She was in bed beside him, and the sky was softening with the colors of approaching dawn. But did she sleep with him?
She carefully lifted the duvet covering her body, and saw that she was naked underneath an oversized T-shirt, which presumably belonged to Seth. Tara briefly considered lifting the blanket further to see what Seth was wearing on the bottom, because from what she could see, he wasn’t wearing anything on the top. But she promptly chickened out. What if he was naked? The thought made her blood rush south even as she freaked out about the implications.
She wanted him—last night and this morning. That much was certain. Her body was apparently a wild thing with a mind of its own. Even now, it begged her to touch him. To slip a hand underneath the sheets and feel up his broad chest and tight abs. Simmer down. If she felt this out of control, sober and wide awake, how would she have behaved last night? She might’ve acted on her desire without restraint.
Why did Seth bring her to his hotel room? He wasn’t the kind of man who would take advantage of a drunk person. But look at
the evidence. She was in his hotel room, lying next to him in nothing but a T-shirt. Why would she be half-naked if they didn’t do the deed? No, she didn’t buy it. There had to be a different explanation—probably a hugely humiliating one for her.
But if they had slept together last night, she’d probably participated wholeheartedly. She was ridiculously attracted to the man. She wouldn’t call it the best decision of her life, but she could own it. The thing that bothered her the most was that if they really had had sex, she didn’t remember any of it. Even the orgasm. She was certain he would’ve made her come. The mere sight of him made lust pump through her veins. Besides, weren’t playboys supposed to know their way around a woman’s body? Tara wanted to groan out loud, but she couldn’t risk waking up Seth.
She had to get out of here before he woke up. Whatever happened last night, it would be humiliating to face him with no memory of it. She shifted gingerly toward the edge of the bed, wincing as her brain rattled in her head, and removed her weight from the mattress with excruciating care. Wouldn’t it be funny if she accidentally jostled him awake? Yeah … no.
Her dress hung neatly behind a high-backed chair with her bra and Spanx next to it. With a grimace of distaste, she put on her uncomfortable push-up bra and Spanx and quickly stepped into the dress. The hem felt cold against her bare feet for some reason. She paused to sniff the damp skirt, but it smelled clean. Whatever. She had to find the rest of her stuff. Once she found her shoes and her purse, Tara made her escape. She would’ve sprinted down the empty hallway if her brain wasn’t attempting to shove her eyeballs through their sockets.
Once she made it out the main entrance, the gentle light of the rising sun pierced into her pounding head. It was just past six o’clock, and the streets were still empty. Which was good and bad. It was good since there was no one to witness her walk of shame. The bad was that her chances of catching an Uber in her tiny town at sunrise were slim to nothing. Besides, taking an Uber would create a witness to her unplanned sleepover, which she didn’t need. Waddling home in her mermaid dress and high heels was her only option. It felt like her comeuppance for drinking without restraint when she was feeling so off—with a gorgeous man she had a hard time keeping her hands off of.
When Tara got safely home with sore feet and a guilty conscience, she pushed everything out of her mind so she could get more sleep to do away with her hangover. She didn’t want her brothers giving her a hard time for staying out late and getting so drunk. They had a cowbell they loved to ring around her head when she overdid it with the adult beverages.
She stripped out of her tight dress and the wretched undergarments, put on an oversized T-shirt—which reminded her of the feel of Seth’s shirt against her naked skin—and slid into bed. She closed her eyes with a sigh, and dreamt of the peaceful face of the sleeping man she’d left behind in a cozy hotel room.
* * *
Tara woke up for the second time that morning, the sun shining brightly into her room. To her great relief, the pain stabbing at her head didn’t feel like medieval torture anymore. Unfortunately, her mortification had only grown like one of those magic sponge animals that quadrupled in size in water. Her remorse at her reckless actions didn’t fit inside her mind, and her scalp felt stretched tightly around her head. She screamed into her pillow. It helped a little, so she did it again. Feeling marginally less likely to burst, she slowly swung her legs to the floor and stood.
No shooting pain in her temples. No dizziness. Yup. Her hangover was practically gone. Putting on her slippers, she dragged herself out to the kitchen to hydrate. Her mom had a giant jug of boricha—roasted barley tea—prepared in the fridge, and she gratefully poured out a tall glass and chugged it down.
“Hey, kiddo,” Jack said, strolling into the kitchen. “How late did you stay out last night? I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Late,” she said vaguely, hoping her brother wouldn’t push it. Because oh, I came home a couple hours ago after having a sleepover with Seth was a conversation neither of them needed to have.
As sad as it sounded, she was a twenty-eight-year-old woman with an unspoken two A.M. curfew. She knew her parents only wanted to protect their little girl, but it was absurd to have a curfew at her age, especially since her brothers hadn’t had a curfew since they were in high school. She loved her parents dearly, but some of their old-fashioned views were getting … old.
Thankfully, Jack just shrugged and poured himself a glass of boricha, too. “I can’t believe Aubrey is really married. I mean, she’s been living with Landon for a few months now, and they have Morgan, but that wedding ceremony made everything feel so official.”
“I know,” Tara sighed, feeling the hollow ache in her heart again. Cut it out already. To cheer herself up, she decided to tease Jack. He was such an easy target. He blushed and fumbled so wonderfully. He really was a sweetheart. “You know Mom and Dad secretly hoped for you and Aubrey to get together for the longest time.”
“What? That’s … ugh. What are you talking about?” he stuttered, turning a blotchy pink.
“Nothing,” she said, all innocence.
“Aubrey’s like a little sister to me. She’s like you. How could Mom and Dad…? I feel nauseous.”
“Geez, bro. Calm down. I’m just messing with you.” Tara released the laughter she was holding back, clutching her stomach.
“You’re a little brat. When are you going to grow up?” Jack tried to glare at her, but he was holding back a grin. He was also a really good sport. “You know what you deserve?”
“No.” Her laughter abruptly ceased. “Please not that. Mom told you guys not to do that anymore.”
“She did? I have no recollection of that,” her sweet oppa said as he lunged for her. He grabbed her around her midriff and used his other hand to tickle her belly.
“Ahhh. Stop. Please,” she wheezed as she giggled like a kindergartener high on cotton candy.
Alex walked in on them and stopped in his tracks. After studying the scene for a few seconds, he dashed all her hopes for help from him. “It looks like you have the situation handled, Jack. I’ll be in the garage if you need reinforcement.”
Figures. Jack and Alex were fraternal twins and they always, without fail, sided with each other. Even so, it still stung. Shrieking with tortured laughter, she yelled, “You are heartless, Alex Park. Heartless.”
“Good morning to you, too, baby sister.” With an annoyingly jaunty wave, he went on his merry way.
“Assholes, the both of you.” The insult gave her no satisfaction when it wheezed out of her in a breathless pant.
“Tara, you know better than to use such language toward your big brothers,” her mom chided as she walked into the kitchen. But she wore a wide smile, as though she found the situation hilarious but felt it was her duty as a good mom to teach her youngest how to respect her elders. Just as Tara was about to howl in frustration, her mom continued, “And Jack. Stop that. You’re thirty years old, not seven.”
He promptly released Tara and walked over to Mom to peck her on the cheek. “Sorry. I’ll do my best to remember that I’m old.”
Her mom affectionately slapped her son on the shoulder and turned him toward the hallway. “Be on your way. I want to chat with my daughter.”
“Yes, Mother.” Jack winked at Tara and grabbed a Fuji apple from the fruit basket before he sauntered out of the kitchen, throwing and catching the apple in the air.
“You slept in today,” she said, switching fluidly to Korean. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Of course, I am.” Oh, no. Mom knows. She always knows everything. “It was a long day, and I just needed some extra sleep.”
“Are you sure that’s all?” Her mom peered at her with her X-ray vision. Tara’s heart threatened to tear through her chest like the Kool-Aid man. “It’s okay to feel a little down. Aubrey just got married. You could feel sad for all those girls’ nights in and out you used to have, and worry about your friendship changing.”
Tara should’ve been relieved that she hadn’t been sniffed out by her mom for her late-night adventures. But talking about this wasn’t a huge improvement, especially since her mom zeroed in on her inner workings.
“I know, Mom. I just need to let it all settle in. Aubrey will always be my best friend. Just because her life has changed doesn’t mean that our friendship will change. We’ll always be there for each other.”
“That was my line. When has my puppy gotten so wise?” Mom cupped her cheek with a warm hand and smiled. “You’re right. Just give yourself time.”
“Thank you.” Tara couldn’t believe her luck that her mom wasn’t bringing up her lack of a husband.
“And … maybe it’s time you started thinking about your future. I married your dad when I was only twenty-three—”
“I can’t hear you.” She’d been too quick to be relieved. To avoid listening to her mom’s story for the 378th time, Tara plugged her ears with her fingers. “I already told you I don’t have time for marriage. The brewery is more important to me.”
She probably said this a bit louder than necessary, thanks to the fingers muffling her voice, because her mom drew back with a cringe. With an exasperated eye roll, she drew Tara close, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and walked out of the kitchen.
Tara blew out a long breath. If she wanted a minute of peace, she was either going to have to hide out in her room or go into the brewery early. Her brothers wouldn’t be coming in until around two, so Tara decided to head out to her happy place. She loved her family, but privacy was a rare commodity.
After a quick shower, she threw on her work uniform—jeans and a loose, lightweight shirt—and headed out. Tara rode her bike everywhere in town. She claimed that it was for the environment and her physical well-being, but the fact of the matter was that it was so much fun. It reminded her of being a kid. She even rang the bell occasionally when no one was around.