Page 133 of Wild Thing
Everything about this man grated on my nerves and gave me the ick. From the way he carried himself, his cocky swagger, his inability to take a hint—all of it screamed pathetic loser.
But this time, Steven wasn’t just an irritant.
He was an opportunity.
I didn’t need much from him, just a little cooperation.
“Maybe I don’t want you to,” I replied, tilting my head just enough to nudge him back.
His eyes shifted immediately, darkening as they swept down my body. He didn’t even try to be subtle.
I fought the urge to cringe. He was the ultimate pervert.
This was exactly what I needed. It was all part of my fucked up plan.
“Come on,” I said, my tone teasing, as I grabbed Steven's hand and guided it down my back. I didn’t stop until it was firmly planted on my ass. "Let's go."
Steven’s grin turned wolfish. He squeezed my ass confidently.
I glanced back at Brax one last time.
He looked like he wanted to rip Steven’s head off.
He wasn’t able to hide it, either. His jaw was tight, his eyes wild with fury. He was at boiling point.
Perfect.
I didn’t even have to look back to know that he was seething. The thought of him sitting there, watching me walk away with Steven's hand on my ass, gave me petty satisfaction, even though I hated it.
I tried to let myself enjoy the knowledge that, for once,hewas the one spiraling.
Thirty-Seven
DYLAN
So this was what a whore felt like.
Empty. Numb. Used.
Back at our table, I was too anxious to eat.
Even though I was in my body, I was definitely out of my fucking mind.
There were two things I needed to do. Find Taylor and get blackout drunk. In that order.
Pulling my phone out of my clutch, I texted Taylor.
Big SOS. Meet me at the photobooth at the back. Super urgent, come alone.
Okay, very 007 of you, but fine. Be there in 3mins.
I pushed back my chair and rose to my feet, offering Marie a quick smile as I smoothed my dress. “I’m just going to find Taylor and say hello to her team."
As I stepped away, I looked toward Brax’s table.
He wasn’t there, but Ally was. Everyone was engrossed in their meals, heads down, forks scraping against porcelain plates.
I weaved through the maze of tables, before finally arriving at the photobooth.
