Page 120 of Secret Obsession
“Truth.”
Finch glances from me to Willow, then back to him. My chest tightens automatically.
I fucking know what’s coming.
“Did you have feelings for Willow when you dated her?” Finch asks him.
Willow goes still.
Knox’s expression stays light, but he focuses on Willow instead of Finch. “I liked you just fine, babe. Does that make you feel better?”
“Not really,” she grits out.
He shrugs. “My turn, then. Truth or dare, Willow?”
“Dare.”
He grins.
My brother is fucking up to something.Always.
“I dare you to give me a lap dance for a full song.”
My grip on Willow tightens, keeping her next to me. “Are you kidding me?”
Knox shrugs. “Do you have a problem with that? It’s not like she’s taking off her clothes… which she will have to do if she doesn’t do the dare.”
Willow pats my leg. “It’s fine. I’m over him.”
I bite my tongue. She slips out from under me and rises, shaking out her limbs. Knox returns with a chair from the dining room, and he sits in it with his legs spread like an asshole. He pats his thighs.
“Lay it on me,” he tells her.
She circles him, running her fingers through her hair. It swings right back to where it was, making a curtain around her face. Someone puts a song on their phone, setting it on the coffee table.
“No touching,” she warns him. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
And then she begins.
I forgot, for a moment, that Willow was on the dance team. And while it may have been a few months since she danced with them, she still has that innate talent of moving her body exactly how she wants.
She steps in front of him, facing away, and bends forward. Her gaze is on me—but her ass is in my brother’s face. I grit my teeth as she moves, hooking her legs over his and lowering herself on his lap. She grabs the back of his neck and brings his face toward her cleavage, although she releases him and slips away before he can make contact.
It seems like she’s set on teasing him to death.
My dick twitches, and emotions roar within me.
I’m angry and turned on and so fucking pissed, I can’t see straight. Is it possible for blood to boil?
The song ends, and Willow immediately stops. She straightens and comes back to the couch—but she doesn’t sit next to me. She climbs up on my lap, straddling me. My furious gaze rakes over her eyes, her mouth, her flared nostrils, a second before she cups my face and slams her lips to mine.
She grinds down on me at the same time, feeling how fucking hard I am for her.
I want to kill her for agreeing to it—but then her tongue is in my mouth, and I groan. I grab the back of her head and wind my other arm around her back, keeping her locked against me. We kiss until my head spins and some of my anger recedes. Until I know I won’t commit murder.
Then my grip loosens, and she sits back slightly.
Although she’s not getting out of my lap, that’s for fucking sure.
