The Matchmaker's Replacement (Wingmen Inc. #2) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,3
chance. She was giving me those eyes, the eyes you give the mean dog at the shelter just as you reach out your hand to pet him.
I could nuzzle.
Or bite like hell.
And a girl like Gabi needed the bite . . . if I was to keep the waters peaceful between Ian and me. I sighed. I needed my best friend, sometimes more than I think he needed me. Hell, I needed him like he needed Gabi, damn it.
I had no choice.
“Shit.” I burst out laughing. “I’ll just go downstairs and find another one. It’s not like there aren’t a million others just like her.” I winked, then grabbed her by the ass and pulled her against me and said gruffly, “It was real, but I have other tits calling my name.”
I nearly puked as I made my way out of the room and down the stairs, not even looking at the people around me as I left the party and the only girl who had ever tempted me . . . to want more.
Chapter One
Lex
Four years later
Senior year
Right. There.” I could feel her breasts pressed up against my back as she pointed to the book that just happened to be at least two feet above her. “The one with the blue spine.”
Smirking, I read the title aloud: “A Thousand and One Ways to Please Your Man?”
“That’s the one.” Was it my imagination or did her voice get husky? Her hands snaked around my waist. “Oh sorry, I thought I saw another book that looked . . . exciting. My mistake.” She pulled her hands away from my crotch and the empty shelf near it.
With a snicker I pulled the book down, still not turning around. “You know, I’m a really good study partner.”
“I’ve heard,” she purred.
Of course she had. My reputation was legendary. By day I was a typical computer nerd, spending most my time in the labs teaching my own professors how to code. Hell, I even adopted dogs, handed out fliers on Greenpeace, and donated to homeless shelters.
But by night?
“So . . .” Soft, wet lips caressed my right bicep. “What do you say?”
An irritating female voice broke through the lustful tension. “Of course, you know it’s a real sex addiction when you actually hang out in the Kama Sutra section just so you can pick up girls you won’t feel the need to grade in bed—or, God forbid, give a manual to.”
“Gabs.” I turned around, teeth clenched, fists tight, ready for a fight or ready to cover my dick lest she try to kick it off again. “You gain weight?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Did the free clinic help you get rid of those crabs?”
The girl—whose name escaped me, as most did—grabbed the book out of my hands and quickly scurried away while Gabs gave me a pointed look.
“For your information, she asked me for help.” I don’t know why the hell I was defending myself to the spawn of Satan. Maybe it was because she looked at me as if I was one bad decision away from going to prison.
Gabi’s soft pink lips pressed together in a judgmental line as her green eyes narrowed. “You’re late.”
“Actually”—I shoved past her—“I was early, saw a damsel in distress, and made myself available. You know how it is. I can’t help that I attract estrogen on an hourly basis.”
“Yes.” Gabs pointed to the stool right next to the bookcase. “So very needy . . . and so very stupid. Was that the best excuse she could come up with? Why not just say, ‘Hey, I’m afraid of heights, mind grabbing that book for me?’”
I rolled my eyes. “Gabs, I know you’re short so everything from down there looks really, really scary, but that stool’s only a foot tall. If she’s scared of that, then it leads me to believe she’s afraid of all things that equally measure up.” I smirked and leaned down, lifting her hair so I could whisper in her ear. “Though who am I kidding? I love it when girls scream in bed.”
Gabi shoved against my chest. Hard. “Gross! Go give a disease to someone else.” She shuddered and then stomped off, calling over her shoulder, “Let’s just get this over with, alright?”
“Fine.” At the pace of a handicapped turtle, I followed after her, dreading every freaking step that took me to the table where she’d laid out her pink backpack and highlighters.