Page 52 of The Devil Gets His Due

We’ve done this and I wanted it to happen. Iaskedhim to do it. I wanted to climb him like a goddamn tree.

He pulls back, and for a fraction of a second, my lower brain thinksno, wait. I sit up at last, blinking at him in surprise. His mouth curves as if he knows exactly the effect he just had: that kissing him was like a drug, one that made my mind slow until it barely functioned. Maybe that’s what made me want to marry him—he drugged me, sort of.

My mind remains slow for the rest of the night, focused entirely on the wrong things.

People tease Colin about his fiancée never coming to anything and I’m still thinking about that kiss. When there’s only one burger left, Colin and Simon wrestle for it, which Simon wins by elbowing Colin in the face. And I watch, thinking about how firm Graham’s mouth was, how assured he was. That he kisses like a guy who would know exactly what he wanted in bed and wouldn’t be the least bit shy demanding it.

Obviously, this isn’t about him. Pregnancy hormones are infamous for increasing sex drive, and I already had an unreasonable onebeforeI got pregnant. But God, I wish I could remember the weekend in January with him a little better.

When dinner is over, everyone seems to barrel out of the house at once.

Graham’s mother hugs me. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. He seems so much happier with you than he did with Anna.”

Anna? Who the fuck is Anna?

My gaze darts from her to him. Graham is avoiding my eye and this isn’t the time to ask, but I bet Anna was the source of the Christmas gift his mom turned herself into a nervous wreck over.

And he marriedmetwo weeks after Christmas.

Anna…isAnna Tattelbaum, a financial analyst named“one to watch”byForbes.

And she is the female Graham—tall, lean, intimidating.

There are very few photos of them together online, but enough for me to know she’sthatAnna. Enough for me to hate her—she’s gorgeous, but she also looks like the kind of person who uses words likepatriarchyandheteronormativein regular conversation. And I guarantee if I asked her opinion ofBridgerton,she’d manage to use both.

That probably explains why I hate her so much.

“So this is her,” I say, holding up my phone with a picture of them together at some swanky function.

He takes a quick glance at the photo and rolls his eyes before his gaze returns to the road. “It’s interesting the way you can’t figure out how to use the stove or washing machine but are able to find complete strangers on the internet with only a first name to go by. It’s almost like you’re feigning incompetence when you don’t want to do things.”

“ObviouslyI’m feigning incompetence. I wasn’t exactly subtle.” I scowl at the image on my phone. “So this is the mysterious Anna. I bet she’s fun in bed. She probably says,‘increase intensity seventy percent’when she wants you to fuck her harder.”

He smirks in a way that makes me want to punch him. “I don’t recall her needing to ask.”

Because he was already doing it. Already pistoning like a man possessed.

A disgusting thought, but my gut tenses in the most delicious way.

“What happened?” I ask. “Why did it end?”

He glances at me, suddenly wary. I’m not sure why he’s acting like this is all some dark secret. I’d happily discuss my former sex life if he asked. “It was always very casual, and it just wasn’t going anywhere.”

He’s being weird because it wasrecent, I realize. Really recent.

“Whendid it end? And who ended it, you or her?”

“A while ago, and what’s with all the questions, Oprah? It’s none of your business.”

I nod, smiling like the little brat I am. “Ah.Sheended it.”

He heaves a sigh and pushes a hand through his hair. “No, as it happens, she didn’t. I just knew it wasn’t what I wanted.”

I wonder if he realizes he keeps answering after insisting he won’t. I wonder if he realizes my interest in this is wildly inappropriate for someone who isn’t even attracted to him.

And then a more sobering thought occurs to me: if this tall, elegant girl in the photo who looks like she was made for Graham wasn’t what he wanted, I can’t imagine who would be.

But it’s weirdly disappointing to realize it would never be me.

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