How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,52

opened her door to me this morning. I looked at that classy dress and remembered every filthy thing we’d texted each other last night. Then I’d looked in her eyes and seen that she was remembering the same thing.

“You look beautiful,” I said.

She smiled, a little shyly I thought. “So do you.”

So I leaned on her doorjamb. “Oh yeah?” I’d gone three-piece suit for the occasion—silk vest, cufflinks, tie, the whole deal. “You think you can handle it?”

Her cheeks went pink. Damn, I liked it when this woman blushed. “Behave today, you jackass.”

“I will if you will,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Now she was sitting next to me, those sexy legs crossed, listening to the ceremony. The chairs were shoved so close together that her shoulder touched mine. If I angled myself just so, I could see the soft cleft of her breasts disappearing into the dress. So I looked away, and the minister droned on. I pictured Megan naked last night, rubbing herself, coming. Making those little sounds she made.

You idiot, Carsleigh.

I looked up at the sky again. I’d had to mop up with a towel last night. Not my usual style, since I was normally a shower guy.

I wonder what kind of panties she’s wearing.

I should have jerked off again in the shower this morning.

This was a perfectly nice wedding, and I could not stop thinking the dirtiest thoughts imaginable. I could not stop.

I need to get that dress off her. Or at least get under it. I could just push it up and—

It bothered me that I was looking at another guy who had seen Megan naked, even if he was getting married. It bothered me that she’d chosen him, even if it was a long time ago. I slid down in my seat and leaned in close to her ear. “Seriously,” I whispered. “That guy?”

Megan looked blankly confused. “What guy?” she whispered back.

I motioned softly to Kyle, standing in front of the minister. “That guy. The guy we came all the way here for. I don’t get it.”

“What?” She frowned. “Oh. I told you, I didn’t come here for him.”

I watched her for a minute, still leaning close, waiting to see if she would elaborate. She smelled good. When she didn’t say anything, I faced forward again.

She sighed, then leaned up to me. “I don’t remember why I liked him,” she whispered. I shifted in my chair, and she put her hand on my thigh. “You’re fidgeting.”

We both went still. It was right there, out in the open, in public under the bright sunshine, her hand on my thigh. I felt its warmth all the way up my leg, felt it throb into my balls. I glanced at Megan and saw her jaw was set, her gaze fixed unseeing straight ahead. She left her hand there for a long moment before she slowly pulled it away.

The ceremony finished. Music started. Everyone was standing, clapping. I stood next to Megan and we clapped politely as the bride and groom walked back down the aisle.

Enough of this.

I leaned down, close to her ear again. “Where can we go?” I asked her.

She blushed again. She was still clapping, still not looking at me. But she answered. I saw the throb of pulse in her neck.

“My room,” she said. “Five minutes.”

Twenty-Three

Megan

I had no idea how he made me do these things. Actually, yes—yes, I did. He did it by wearing a suit. An expensive, perfectly tailored, three-piece suit.

Half the girls at prom passed out when he walked in, Holly had said.

And Jason: I look boss in a suit.

Good freaking baby Jesus in heaven. I’d turned into an idiot the minute I’d opened my door. I’d spent the entire ceremony—my cousin’s wedding, the wedding that had been so important to me that I’d recruited a fake boyfriend and driven for two days—pretending to watch and listen while my brain was numb in a fog of lust because I could smell him, and his shoulder was brushing mine, and he had shaved, and he had cufflinks in his shirt, and that tie, and God, those legs—I’d just sat there like a statue. When Jason mentioned my ex, I’d had no idea who he was talking about. None whatsoever. I had literally forgotten my ex-boyfriend, who I was watching getting married in that very second.

I had forgotten Kyle’s existence in the middle of his own wedding.

This was not how it was supposed to go. We were supposed to be well-dressed and respectable, just like