Page 11 of Within Striking Distance
Maybe that’s what I need.
If only I could stop thinking about a damn sexy pixie who blew my mind with one fucking kiss.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I need to get that dangerous woman out of my head.
Grabbing a shot glass off the tray, I knock it back and wink at Abigail. “You ready to show these two how it’s done?”
Her eyes widen—she’s probably getting whiplash from my behaviour, but fuck it. I need a distraction. For the next half an hour, I lean into the flirting, casual touching, and teasing, but while I know I’m putting on a good show on the outside, my heart isn’t in it.
When Abigail steps into my body, angling her head up for a kiss, I do the gentlemanly thing and lean in to meet her lips with mine. The kiss is… nice. The perfect amount of tongue, not too pushy or overeager… but it’s just nice.
There’s no overwhelming need to claim her. Not even a twitch in my pants.
Fuck, I’m screwed.
Things get even more awkward when Everett suggests we take the party back to our place, and I have to let Abigail down gently.
I’m an idiot. I should just take her home and try to screw the green-eyed pixie out of my head, but the thought gives me the ick, and I feel bad leading Abigail on.
Goddamn it. This is getting beyond a joke.
Everett shakes his head as he climbs into the backseat of the Uber with Emily, but I ignore him and get in the front seat next to the driver. I rest my head on the cool glass, staring out the window as we drive home.
Maybe this is what I deserve because of my past. Dad’s final fuck you from beyond the grave. I wouldn’t put it past the sadistic bastard.
Chapter 4
Juliet
“So, then the serial killer pierced my nipples with a rusty needle and some old fishing twine before slitting my throat,” Quinn says in a cheerful voice, arching her brows like she’s waiting for me to say something.
“Mmhmm, that’s amazing, Quinnie,” I say, trying to match her enthusiasm as I lean towards the mirror to fix my lipstick.
Only it smears over my cheek when my best friend screeches my name and shoves my shoulder.
“Seriously?” she scolds. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said for the last ten minutes, have you?”
I grimace. It’s closer to fifteen or twenty.
“You’re the worst maid of honour on the planet.” Her words don’t have any malice in them, but my stomach drops because she’s right.
“I’m sorry,” I say, accepting the tissue she hands me so I can fix the mess on my face. “My head is just…”
“Back in Euphoria?” she finishes for me, a smirk playing on her lips.
“No!” But my protest is way too loud and obvious.
Her grin widens.
“You’re still thinking about him? It’s been two weeks.”
“No,” I say again, but this time it comes out more like a tortured groan. “Maybe. God, I don’t know why I can’t get that kiss out of my mind, but it was…”
“Amazing? Incredible? Mind-blowing?” she suggests when I trail off.
“Life changing.” I bury my head in my hands. “This is ridiculous, right? I mean, it was just a kiss with a random stranger.”
