Filthy English (English #2)(10)

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

Her lush lips told another story though, demanding to be kissed.

I told myself to leave her alone. Several times.

But like a magnet, I’d planted myself next to her. I couldn’t help myself.

We talked and laughed over spiked punch. A while later, we clasped hands and laughed as they sent us upstairs in a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Yeah. It was silly, but we played along. We had no clue the heat it would lead to when we got in the closet and kissed . . . and kissed. She lit me up with lust and for an entire seventy-two hours together, we rolled around naked in my bed. It had been Labor Day weekend and most of the house was empty. We’d gotten up to scrounge around for food, take showers, and chase each other around the house, but we’d dived right back in to my bed.

Fast. Slow.

Me on top. Her on top.

Sitting on a chair.

Against the wall.

She was everything I never knew I wanted in a girl—except I couldn’t have her.

I didn’t do relationships.

Then Eva-Maria, one of the fraternity little sisters I’d been with a few times, had shown up that Monday and ruined everything. She’d marched into my room and gone berserk, tossing books at Remi and claiming I was her boyfriend.

Remi, a girl who clearly didn’t get involved with dramatics, had quickly dressed and left my room as I’d stood there naked trying to explain in a logical way that Eva-Maria wasn’t really a permanent thing, just someone I slept with when I was horny.

I came back to the present when Remi tipped up the bottle of tequila in my arms to take a sip. She’d slapped me tonight. Not that I hadn’t deserved it. Sure, I’d been a cocky smartass when she finally figured out who I was, but that was all a front.

I hadn’t known how to react to her.

She had this uncanny ability of making me feel like I was a blithering arse.

I shook my head. Focus on the here and now. Get her to a booth, get her settled with an ice pack, call a cab, and get her home.

And Hartford. Sonofabitch. Thinking of him fanned the flames higher.

He’d dumped her?

In what universe did that even make sense? He’d started seeing Remi a few months after she and I had our fling, and from the looks of them around campus, they’d been crazy about each other. Not that I’d noticed.

“You putting me down anytime soon?” Her voice had a slight slur. “This circus sideshow you’re doing is giving me motion sickness.”

“Trust me, I can’t get you there fast enough,” I retorted.

Every single booth was taken, but that didn’t stop me from marching up to an occupied one in a back corner. With clenched teeth, I politely asked the three people to move. I got a few raised eyebrows and one muttering arsehole, but with Spider behind me all puffed up and ready to tango, they left.

I eased her down just as a waitress came scurrying over and asked what we needed.

“A glass of water and an ice pack,” I said curtly. “She fell down near the bar. Hurry, please.”

The waitress’s eyes flared. “Should I get the manager for you?”

Remi waved her off with a weak smile. “Once I get some ice, it’ll go down. Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

I grabbed an extra chair from a table a few feet away and pulled it up to Remi. “Here. Elevate your foot.”

She did, her eyes looking everywhere except me.

“Where’s Lulu now?” I asked. She was the life of any party and a complete opposite to Remi; they were thick as thieves.

“Dancing, last I saw.”

“She shouldn’t leave you alone in a nightclub.”

She ignored me and cuddled the bottle of tequila. “This stuff tastes better the more you drink. Want some?”

“You’re sloshed, Remi,” I muttered.

“Am not.”

I studied her, taking in the smeared lipstick from where we’d kissed. Her eyes were glassy too, a hard glint in them, a look I’d become accustomed to over the years whenever we’d bump into each other.

I sighed and turned to Spider, describing Lulu’s signature pink hair and height. He looked dubious about searching the dance floor but dashed off to find her.

After a few moments of silence, she slipped her mask off, set it on the table, and nibbled on her thumbnail, something I’d seen her do a dozen times at frat parties when she didn’t know I was watching her.

Was she thinking about me?

About that fucking epic kiss?

No, you arsehole.

She’s broken up over another dude. Get your head out of the sand. Plus, she’s too smart for you. Even drunk, she’s probably thinking about some bird in Africa and how it . . .

“Stop all your pacing,” she said, eyeing me. “Will you please sit?”

I let out a breath. Part of me didn’t want to leave her, even though at this point I could since Lulu would be up here soon. I rubbed my jaw, and pulled up another chair to the booth she was in. I might as well be useful. “Let’s look at your ankle.”

She moved her foot off the chair and settled it on my knee. A mile long and soft, her legs were hot. Remi wasn’t beautiful if you looked at each individual feature: her nose was a hair too long, her cheekbones high and a bit broad, the space between her two front teeth obvious, but when you combined it together, she was one of the sexiest girls I’d ever met. Only she didn’t know it.

Yeah, yeah, you love how she looks. It makes you hard. Move on.

But it was funny how I’d always spot her, even yards away on campus. Not that it had ever done me any good. As soon as she saw me, she’d be in the wind.

I traced my fingers over the swollen lump on the right side of her ankle. It was small, and from being around Declan and the gym and just from a general knowledge of playing sports, I knew she’d be okay. “I think it’s a sprain, but not serious. Still hurting?”

Her shoulders had tensed as I touched her. “Not as much.”

“If the swelling doesn’t go down by tomorrow, you’ll need to see a doctor. I can recommend one for you if you want. I’ve been here all summer and have a good feel for the place.”

“It will be fine. I fall all the time. Can I have my leg back now?”

“Fine with me.” I eased back from her ankle and scooted my chair away from her.

The seconds ticked by as she gazed at the wall and played with her hair, which flowed down her back like a freaking waterfall. A memory stabbed at me—one where I’d wrapped my hand in her hair, tugged her face back, and hammered into her.