Love between Players

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Coward."

Leticia gasped, startled by the venomous smirk and the casual accusation. The man who uttered it leaned back with ease, his presence both magnetic and utterly infuriating. His confidence was too decadent to belong in a dingy booth like this, and certainly out of place among her friend's rowdy clique.

"I'm not sleeping with you," she snapped, voice steadier than she expected. Her declaration froze the air, silencing the giggles of her friend Riley and the other girls, who exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief. Even Riley, usually the life of the room, was speechless for a beat before her lips twitched with something like amusement.

"And who said he wanted to?" one of the girls quipped, breaking the spell with a snort.

Leticia bristled, her eyes locking with his. But he wasn't laughing. No, he was studying her with the kind of intensity that made her throat dry. His lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, a predator sizing up new prey.

"She's not lying," Riley finally spoke up, grinning mischievously. "You heard her, man. No way she's sleeping with you."

The challenge was tangible now, burning in the space between Leticia and the man. He shifted, eyes narrowing just slightly, as if the concept of being told "no" was utterly alien to him. The tension settled around him like a tailored coat.

"It's a game," he said smoothly, voice dipping lower, almost hypnotic. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Yet as he lounged there, unfazed, the air vibrated with an unspoken vow. Now, he had to have her. And not just for one night—he'd make her remember him long after she had forgotten herself.

"Fine. I choose dare," Leticia bit out, surprising herself.

"I dare you to... kiss me."

A collective gasp rippled across the group. Leticia blinked, a kaleidoscope of emotions crossing her face—shock, dread, a flicker of indignation. Of course, she thought bitterly. Of course, he'd pull this.

"I can't kiss you," she blurted out, voice trembling despite herself. Silence followed as everyone seemed to lean closer, waiting for what she'd do. Even Riley seemed momentarily stunned, then let out a mock sigh of exasperation.

"Come on, girl—it's my birthday! It's just one kiss!" Riley protested dramatically.

Leticia's hand instinctively reached for the vodka on the table. "I'll drink instead," she muttered.

Before she could grab the bottle, one of the girls whisked it away, giggling. The man, however, wasn't laughing. If anything, her resistance seemed to amuse him on a far deeper level, his piercing blue eyes practically glowing with the thrill of the hunt.

Her pulse quickened. How could someone be this damn perfect? Those striking eyes, that chiseled jawline, the clean, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and something darker—a promise of heat, of fire. And his voice, deep yet soft, slid over her nerves like silk.

"I... I can't," she stuttered, retreating against the leather booth as her heart drummed painfully loud.

"I will," he murmured, the words wrapping around her like smoke. Before her mind could catch up, he was close. Too close. Leticia's lips parted in reflex as his scent enveloped her, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

Every muscle in her body screamed for her to pull back, but she couldn't. His lips hovered near hers, warm breath ghosting over her skin, teasing, tormenting.

Then his mouth brushed down to her neck instead. "Why do you smell so good?" he groaned, voice rough. "It's criminal, you know that?"

Her resolve shattered like fragile glass. Leticia tilted her head, baring her neck as though his words had rendered her powerless. Something deep within her stirred—an ache she couldn't contain.

"Will you take care of her?" A voice drifted through the haze—Riley's, distant and faint. Leticia barely registered it. She was drowning, the man's proximity washing away any thought of morality, her parents, or the other people in the room. Right now, there was only him.

"Kiss me... Please," she begged, desperate and trembling. Every nerve was alight with anticipation as his lips ghosted hers once more.

But he paused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Fifteen plus fifteen?" he asked softly.

"Thirty," she whispered, barely comprehending why he'd ask. "Don't worry. I'm sober. I want this. I want you."

"In front of everyone?" he murmured, a brow arching.

"In front of everyone," she said firmly, her voice surprisingly clear as her eyes stayed tightly shut.

What Leticia couldn't know was how intricately this moment had been orchestrated. Riley had planned it all—the dare, the man, even the false buzz of background noise. At that moment, the bar was empty, locked down. The "crowd" was merely a recording, a clever charade to coax Leticia into shedding her inhibitions.

"Close your eyes," the man whispered. "And don't open them. Not until I tell you."

His lips finally claimed hers, warm and commanding. The kiss was electric, breaking something deep inside her and igniting something else—a wildfire that threatened to consume her completely. She moaned softly as his lips left hers to explore her neck once more, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

His hand found its way under her skirt and to her already drenched slippery silk panties. He made a sound in his throat, like a grunt as he rubbed her panties with his thumb, round and round, as he continued kissing her neck. Leticia moaned, her voice surpassing that of the recording or bar music. On and on he went until Leticia could bare it no more and she climaxed, legs shaking, a scream erupting from her lips as something novel possessed her. And he wasn't even inside yet, just his thumb that drove her.

Then, as suddenly as the fire started, it extinguished.

"I'm done here," he said softly, his voice tinged with something unreadable. "Game over. I hope we never meet again, Leticia Barman. If we do, act like you don't know me."

Her eyes flew open, the warmth evaporating as she realized what had just happened. The bar was empty—completely still. Even Riley was gone.

And the man? Disappeared. Along with every whisper, every trace of what had passed between them.

She sank back into the booth, heart racing, as bitter understanding washed over her. She had been set up.