A crazy game of truth and dare. (2)
Emma stood up confidently, then immediately realized her skirt was too tight. As she tried to part her legs slightly, she gasped. “I’ll rip it!”
Rob, lounging on the sofa with an easy grin, barely looked up. “Just pull it up a bit.” His voice was casual, almost indifferent.
Emma nodded and adjusted the fabric, tugging it higher inch by inch until it was just longer than a mini skirt. Taking a deep breath, she started her star jumps. With every bounce, her skirt rode up slightly, and her firm breasts jiggled under the silk blouse. The smooth fabric clung to her body, accentuating her curves. Rob played it cool, laughing along so it didn’t seem like he was ogling her—though, in truth, he absolutely was.
When she finished, she smoothed her skirt back down and flopped onto the couch. “Okay, truth or dare?”
Rob smirked. “Dare again.”
Emma’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Alright, well, I’m starving. Order a pizza—but in a foreign accent. And no laughing.”
