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She collapsed back onto the sofa and blew out a breath, the action fanning the curls around her face. “Okay buster, your go. Truth or dare?”

He had to swallow hard to get his throat working. “Truth.” He was not risking a singing dare. Or anything that meant he had to stand up.

She smirked. “What are you thinking right now?”

He groaned, shaking his head. “Changed my mind, I’ll have dare.”

“No way, that’s not in the rules.”

“Fine. I’m thinking that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her teeth caught in her bottom lip. “Really?”

“Really.” He needed to get himself back on an even keel. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth. I haven’t got the stamina for another dare.”

Neither did he. “How do you want to spend Christmas day?” The calendar stopped on the twenty-fourth. Did she have plans for the next day? Did they involve him?

“Umm.” She tapped her index finger against her lips. “Fantasy or realistic?”

“Fantasy.” If he stayed, he’d give her whatever she needed.

“I’d like to spend it in bed with the guy I’m in love with, only getting out to eat the turkey dinner he’s carefully prepared for us.”

It sounded too much like his own fantasy to be comfortable, only substitute guy I’m love with for woman I’m obsessed by.

She took another big swallow of her drink. “Truth or dare?”

Both options seemed dangerous now. “Dare.”

“I dare you to take your shirt off.” She must have seen his jaw drop because she grinned. “I want to see your tattoo with the dressing off. I presume you removed it today?”

He nodded. He didn’t mind taking his shirt off. He was far more worried about the direction this was heading, and whether he’d be able to stop it getting too far. With a quick tug of his hem, he peeled his shirt over his head.

Anna jumped to her feet and bent to look at her design, a soft smile playing across her lips. With a touch so gentle he had to inhale a sharp breath, she ran her fingertips over it. “My art looks good on your arm,” she whispered.

“Yes.” His voice sounded like he’d sandpapered his throat. After a lingering look in his direction, which he had no clue how to interpret, she went to sit back down. “My turn,” he declared roughly. “Truth or dare? And think very carefully about choosing dare, because you know what it will be.” He apparently had the will power, and the common sense, of a gnat.

She met his gaze head on. “Dare.”

Fuck. This was the alcohol talking, had to be. He needed to put a halt to it, before they both did something they couldn’t take back. But stop wasn’t the word that left his mouth. “I dare you to take your top off, Anna.”

His heart pounded as she began to undo the buttons on her shirt—a cute grey number, dotted with red scarf wearing snowmen. He told himself he’d seen her, albeit fleetingly, in a swimsuit, so this wasn’t a big deal.

Turns out he’d lied to himself.

She slid the blouse off her shoulders and the sight in front of him was unlike anything he’d seen before. Some of it was the curves, her tits were a good handful, and he had big hands. Some of it was the white lace bra, dotted with little pink roses, that pushed her breasts into the most seductive cleavage he’d ever seen. A lot of it was Anna, her flushed face, the look in her eyes, like she was trying to act confident but she wasn’t. “You’re meant to be looking at my tattoo,” she whispered.

Shit, he’d totally forgotten. “Like I can see anything beyond that bra and your sexy cleavage,” he rasped. He knew she was watching, but he had to adjust himself before his zipper did some permanent damage. “If I walk over to you now, I won’t be able to control myself.”

Her tongue did a swipe over her lips. “Truth or dare,” she said huskily.

He was a man on edge. He didn’t trust himself to stay on this side of the sofa. “Truth.”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

His heart stuttered. “You can’t ask me that.”