#Forfeit: The Ultimate Game of Dares (Rewrite)

Chapter Three

He kissed her.

Slow, assured and utterly confident, his lips moved against Daisy’s and it was all she could do not to whimper. She was being kissed by the best-looking bloke in the world and dear God, did he know what he was doing. One of his hands held her face, his fingers in her hair, a thumb brushing down her neck. How did a twenty-two year-old get that good at kissing?

And how the hell could a ten second kiss, one that hadn’t even strayed towards French, have her pressing her thighs together? A shiver ran through her body and she pulled back, desperate for air and a few seconds to regain control of her senses.

Clearly Clara was right; clearly, it had been a while.

But surprisingly, Xander’s breathing was as ragged as her own.

‘I’ve wanted to do that since…’ A small smile played on his perfect lips. ‘Well, since I knocked you over on the cricket pitch. Christ, you’re hot.’

Hot? He thought she was hot? Daisy couldn’t help a ridiculously pleased grin. This amazing piece of eye candy actually fancied her. Sensibly, she should leave; sensibly, she should suggest they go on a date. But when Xander kissed her again, any hint of sensible flew out of the window. A date? Bugger that. What she needed was cheap and meaningless sex.

They clung to one another, fingers raking, tongues exploring and Daisy’s hands delved under his t-shirt, wanting to feel the perfection she’d witnessed earlier. Smooth, hard and to her amusement, flinching under her touch.

‘Careful,’ he said, grinning between kisses.

He was ticklish? Well, that was almost too tempting, but Daisy’s giggles settled into a pleased grin as Xander pulled her to her feet, his hand on her arse, pressing her against him. Was there anything about him that wasn’t rock hard?

They shed his t-shirt first, but her vest top quickly followed, and Daisy dropped her head back, adoring the sensations Xander’s lips created as he kissed and nibbled her neck. How long had it been since anything, anyone had made her feel so beautiful? Maybe she should’ve stuck to the date idea.

But his fingers tugged down the zip on her trousers and her eyes flew open. That was a side zip. He’d already clocked how to undress her. The boy wasn’t date material; he was a player. Daisy suppressed her grin. But who better to go to for cheap and meaningless sex?

His lips worked his way down her body, lingering over her football stud nipples. Seriously, how long had it been? Her head said six months, but her body screamed, FOREVER.

‘You have,’ he whispered, gently slipping her trousers down, ‘the sexiest arse I’ve ever seen.’

She sincerely doubted it, but with his tongue flicking the Pacha cherries, she was incapable of arguing. How would it feel if he did that six inches lower?

He’d ventured a mere inch by the time her trousers were gone; a teasing three when her shoes were tossed aside. She needed more. Arching towards him, she dragged her fingers through his hair and finally, as his hands drifted back up her legs, thumbs on the insides of her thighs, he kissed her through the black lace of her knickers. Why the hell was she still wearing knickers?

Her mental complaints escalated when he stood up, but any sulkiness vanished as he brushed her hair back, his brown eyes twinkling down at her.

‘You've shrunk,’ he said. ‘Shortarse.’

Daisy laughed. It was a fair point. Barefoot, she was a head shorter than him. ‘You’d better come down to my level then.’

She pushed him back onto the sofa, grinning as she knelt over him. The advantage of not being twenty-two like him was she had three years’ more experience. Three years’ experience she didn’t plan to fritter by playing coy. And if he thought he could tease her, to leave her with one, over-the-pants kiss, then she had the perfect trick for him – one Clara had taught her the week they’d met at uni.