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“You’re everything I hate in a man, and I’m like,so beneath you. So we may as well make this fun. Come on, let’s get ready and do some drinking. The dive bar up the street has karaoke. You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to.”
“That’s like saying you don’t have to pay ten thousand dollars for a rectal exam if you don’t want to. Did you saydive bar?”
Fucking hell.Karaoke, dive bars, cake and ice cream for breakfast and dinner…
Mental note: Have Trent research the possibilities of doing a full-body detox and cleanse to remove the remnants of an entire human being from my life when this is all over. Otherwise, I’ll be oozing Winter Sommers from my pores weeks after we part ways.
Winter looks at me through heavy eyes while I move my massaging hands up to her ankle, then calf.
“Fine,” she breathes. “I’ll go out without you then.”
The fuck you will!
“Alright, Grimm. You win. But I will not, and I repeat,will notcarry your lifeless body back to our suite. I will not hold your hair back if you puke. I will not babysit you. And if I retire to the facilities with company, you will not block my cock. Understood?”
You’re a headache sober. I can’t imagine what you’re like when you’re drunk.
“Wow. I hope you’re more charming to said company than you are to me.”
“I’m the same me across the board, baby.”
She rolls her eyes, making my grip tighten around her ankle. Her bratty behavior sparks a need to pin her to a surface,anysurface, and do god awful things to her body. It both infuriatesandexcites me. Just like her. Winter Sommers—the woman with two seasons for a name.
“Alright, Richie Rich. Go put on something casual. I’m serious. I don’t want to see you wearing anything with buttons or a dry-clean only tag. Come out of that room wearing something with an elastic waist.”
“Seriously? Are we going to work out or something?”
“No, tight-ass. We’re going to havefun. You know what that is, right? Plus, I’m sick of looking at you in your three-piece suits.”
“Alright. But if I have to wear something with an elastic waistband, you have to wear something withnotan elastic waistband. Come out of that room in something sexy, sweetheart, or the deal is off.”
“You’re grotesque,” Winter says, shaking her head.
“Andyouare going to fall in love with me.”
Another eye roll. “Fat chance of that happening.”
I move my hand up her leg slowly, but she swats it away when I get to her inner thigh.
“Fine.” She lifts her chin confidently. “I’ll wear something more formal. Butyouhave to promisemeone thing…”
“What’s that?”
“That you won’t try to have sex with me.”
“Fat chance of that happening.”
* * *
AmI the dumbest prick on the planet?
I can answer that… Yes. The title Dumbest Prick on the Planet is reserved solely for me, Aleck Rexford Fox. Aleck “Dumb Prick” Rexford Fox.
Did I seriously agree to going out with Winter? Drinking at a damn karaoke dive bar no less? I’m losing my shit and losing it fast. I deserve whatever result this night brings. And thank fucking god there’s no HR department assigned to my social life because they’d rule this decision a liability of epic proportions.
Let’s go over some outcomes: Outcome A.) We have a god-awful time. Because she’s right, I’m everything she hates in a man and she’s “like, so beneathme.”Her words, not mine. The sexual tension fizzles out because we then agree we’re far too opposite to attract. All of our fun banter fueled by sexual oppression stops, then this wedding goes from semi-exciting with a woman like Winter to play with to level twenty excruciating.
I’d be counting down the seconds until this all ends, not even able to drown the misery in ample amounts of pussy because my boring, stick-up-her-ass roommate made me promise no women in the suite.
