Page 23 of Catching Mr. Right

“I’m looking at you.” I push some of her silvery hair out of the way before lowering my mouth to her ear. Soft spicy flora fills my senses. “If I spend all my time looking for your guy then he’s not going to have anything to be jealous about.”

“That might be true.” Her cheek rubs against mine, but I don’t have her attention. She’s scanning the room for him. Searching the crowd for Sam Sweets. The moment she sees him her breath hitches, and then she blurts, “So how do you want to play this?”

How do I want to make the guy jealous and then hand her over to him? My other hand, which is settled on her hip, tightens its grip, before I take a deep breath and push myself to relax. That’s what we’re here for. This is what we agreed upon. It was my suggestion that we pretend we’re together to drive him crazy until he can’t help but want her for himself, because getting her out of my hair is my number one priority.

“Never mind.” Her chest rises and falls against mine, her nipples turning into tight little buds. She turns her face to mine, our noses touching, her lips right there in front of me. “This is working.”

“I bet it is.” I smirk, though I don’t feel at all pleased. Mandy is in my arms, and I don’t want to be reminded of who she’s doing this for. I tilt my head a little, mirroring her. “What’s so special about him anyway?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She presses her lips together, her attention darting to my lips before locking eyes with me again.

“Try me.” I lean closer, plant a leg between hers. We’re close enough to touch like we did in the kitchen when I watched her eyes shutter and her body shake with pleasure, but I don’t go that far. It’s all an illusion. Mandy Pearce is just a girl who wants a boy who isn’t me. Let’s keep it that way.

“I don’t think so.” She bites her lip, her hands smoothing from my neck down over my shoulder to grip my biceps. It makes my gut tighten. “What’s with your drama queen reaction to blunt knives? If you want to talk so much, why don’t we start there?”

I grit my teeth, my breath stalling in my chest. “I apologized, didn’t I?”

“You did, but that was days ago, and it still doesn’t explain why.” Her eyes widen. “He’s staring at us. Summer’s talking to him, and he’s just standing there, glaring at us.”

“Glaring at me,” I tell her. “Because I’m touching you.” To prove my point, I drop my hand to the hem of her sequined mini skirt and tickle her leg. The pink sequins almost broke me when I first saw her tonight. When she rubbed a palm over them one way, and then another they changed color. I wanted to put my hands on her skirt, wanted to watch it change color, and then make it disappear entirely.

“Do that again,” she orders, raising her leg around mine and digging the heel of her stiletto into my calf.

It hurts, but the pain is good. It keeps my head straight. The way she’s clinging to me while I scrawl my fingertips around the hem of her skirt feels too real, the guy she’s hoping to catch easy to forget. The reasons I don’t want to change her mind about what she wants fade too, and that scares me. But pain is real. It’s true. Fact. “What are you going to do with him when you catch him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Are you frightened?”

Her eyes are so expressive they give her away. She’s slightly startled at my question, and I catch the uncertainty in them.

She doesn’t look away, doesn’t shutter her expression. “I’m nervous. I’ve waited for this for a long time.”

“For him? Is that why—”

“No.” She blushes. “Sometimes I say things that shouldn’t be shared. But whether I’m experienced has nothing to do with Sam. I wasn’t waiting for him, exactly. Or anyone. It just turned out I’m a huge fan of my vibrator. It’s never disappointing.”

“Okay.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I’m nervous that I’m going to blow it. Determination only works to a point.”

“Why, girl, I thought you were an optimist.”

“Just because I like to have a positive outlook doesn’t mean…” She taps her fingertips on my shoulder urgently. “He’s coming over here. What do we do now?”

I don’t know that I’m the best person to ask right now, because I want to press into her and stroke her in all the places I’m being so careful not to touch. My cock is straining against my fly. I’m salivating over remembered kisses and the anticipation of her mouth so close to mine. “Let’s go back to your place.”

“Are you joking?” She lets go of my biceps to push at my chest.

I’m completely fucking serious. Which makes no sense at all, because what’s my plan after that? I’m not sticking around. I’m not going to have sex with her. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t. Hell, couldn’t. Even if she wanted me and not him.

She looks horrified, though. At the idea of me… and her. So what if she’s told me things, said things, looked at me in ways that make it hard to recall the plan? Mandy Pearce is an over sharer, but she’s unwavering about what she wants.

“Yeah,” I grumble, pushing away from her and the wall. A quick shaky hand through my hair and I exhale as Dream Man Sam takes her attention from me. Turning around, I bump up against him as I storm off. “I need a drink.”

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