Page 152 of So This Is War
I’m all business tonight. I have one thing on my mind, and that’s breaking Wylie Wood. Like I said, this fucked-up game of wills ends tonight.
I chose to wear a pair of black jeans and a black button-up shirt, my typical club outfit. I styled my hair to look messy but also put together, left my scruff untouched, rolled my sleeves up, and made sure to put on the cologne I know she likes. I want to make it impossible for her to think of anyone but me. That’s why I also left a few of my buttons undone so she has a peek of my chest throughout the night.
Now I just have to mentally prepare for what arsenal she’s coming with. Lord knows she’s going to dress to kill. I’m not fucking dumb. She’s an incredibly sexy and sexual woman, andshe’ll dress provocatively—sensually—to make it impossible for me to look at any other woman. Lucky for me, I’ve already texted Samantha at the club. I told her what was going on, and she has no problem helping me out.
Samantha is a regular who I’ve played around with a bit. She’s devastatingly gorgeous with long black hair, a killer body, and deep brown eyes. Being naked in front of people doesn’t faze her, and she’s been up on the main stage quite a few times, getting off for everyone to see. She’s excited to play the part tonight.
So I have my bases covered.
Tonight, Wylie will break.
Just then, I hear heels clicking down the hallway, so I brace myself as Wylie appears in the kitchen. And yup . . . fuck . . . me. Jesus Christ, did she come to fucking play.
Her red hair is curled and voluminous, stretching past her shoulders and down her back. She went with a dark eyeliner, making her eyes pop, and a deep red lip that matches the vibrant color of her hair. And the outfit she chose, if you want to call it that, is a tight mini skirt that barely reaches her mid-thigh, and a single tube top that ties in the front and covers nothing but her breasts, and barely covers them if that. Pretty sure it’s one of those bras she was talking about, but strapless.
Yup, she came to fucking play.
When she sees me, she pauses and wets her lips as she lets her eyes trail over me. “Ooo, boss man is looking to get fucked tonight, isn’t he?”
By you, yes.
“I am,” I say.
She walks up to me and pats me on the chest. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be the best wingman you’ve ever had.”
With that, she struts toward the front door, clutch in hand, ready to go.
Let the games begin.
WYLIE
“You’re quiet,”I say after about ten minutes of silence in the car. “Are you mentally preparing to pick someone up?”
“I don’t need to mentally prepare,” he says, his grip on the steering wheel tight.
“Okay, well, can you tell me what you expect from me as your wingman?”
“Talk me up, make me look good, make sure the girl trying to get with me is worth my time.”
I tug on my top, a habit I’ve acquired since the moment I put on this godforsaken bra that Sandie insisted I wear. It feels like it’s going to fall off any second. “I can do that no problem. Is there anyone in particular you’re looking for?”
He rubs the side of his jaw, the sound of his scruff bringing my attention to what it would feel like to have that scruff rubbing against my skin.
“Dark hair,” he says. “Only requirement.”
“Are you a boob man, ass man? Should I be looking for anything like that?”
“I like all bodies,” he says and glances in my direction.
My cheeks heat, and I inwardly swear to keep it together. It’s hard, though, when he looks likethatand smells unbelievable. I swear his cologne was made to draw women toward him because even sitting in his car, I’m leaning toward him, wanting to get a better whiff.
He makes a right down a dark street, where he pulls up to a valet.
“Oh, I’ve never been here before,” I say. “This is a bar?”
“No,” he says as he glances at me. “A club.”
He gets out of the car, and all the color drains from my face.
