Page 54 of How to Ruin a Wedding

“I did,” I say, nails digging into the edge of the table to keep from climbing on Anders. “And I believe you said if I did exactly what I did to the bartender to you, you’d give me your bank account number. You can text it to me.”

He throws his head back and laughs so freely that my heart is the one setting off tiny fireworks now. When he settles, he brings one hand to my neck, lifts until his thumb is under my chin.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he whispers.

“I just scammed you for your bank info, and you’re complimenting me?”

“I’d like to do far more than just that.”

I suck in a breath. “Anders.”

“Lucinda.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re sober,” he counters, his hand reaching under my skirt, pressing against the skin of my thigh, higher and higher until he reaches the curve of me. “But you still want me. Like I want you.”

My pulse speeds up enough that I worry Anders is going to give me an actual heart attack. I press my hand against my chest, rubbing the skin there as if it’ll slow the beating. “This is ...” I struggle to speak as he moves his hands around to my ass, pulling me against his thigh so that my wet panties press against his leg. The relief and pleasure the pressure gives slips a moan out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Messy.” I moan again as Anders’s fingers dig into my skin, positioning me to ride his leg once more.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says, leaning forward and flattening my body against his, moving in a hard, patterned rhythm.

“You’re drunk.” I feel the need to say it again, but the words are pathetic whimpers timed with every grind of our bodies. My center throbs, each pulse jolting through my entire body, desperate for more. “Let’s revisit this when sober.”

My vision grows hazy, tiny lights bursting at the sides, like lost planets trying to find the right orbit. It feels so good. My panties aredrenched enough that Anders’s jeans will be soaked through. But the thought of stopping feels impossible. I don’t want to stop. I need to stop. I can’t stop.

“Excuse me.” A woman’s voice jolts through the mind-blowing pleasure running through me. Anders barely pulls away; I turn my head to see the girl, wide eyed, in front of a man. “It’s, um, our time slot at the table.”

“Oh my God,” I say, slamming my palms against Anders, who barely budges. I nearly fling myself off him. “Sorry, really sorry,” I tell them, pulling my skirt down and rushing toward the exit as fast as my shaky legs will take me.

Mindless lust is what that was. Now I feel like someone dunked me under a bucket of ice water. Dummy. A horny, deprived dumbass is what I am.

“Lucinda!” Anders calls, grabbing my arm.

As he pulls me to a stop, I realize I’ve made it to the parking lot. “Give me the keys.”

“Lucinda,” he says again.

With the floodlights illuminating the area, my gaze catches on the damp patch I left on Anders’s thigh. “Oh my God.” I press my hands over my face. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“We,” Anders says. “That wasn’t just you.”

“I remained sober to have some self-control,” I say into my hands. “This isn’t appropriate. We’re basically coworkers.”

Anders pries my hands from my face and replaces them with his own. “There’s nothing wrong with what we just did.”

I open my mouth, then bite my tongue. Clearly, even sober, I can’t act rationally around Anders.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” I ask.

“Whatever thoughts you’re having, wishing you could take it back.”

“I don’t want to take it back,” I say without thinking. “I’m not some naive virgin, Anders. We’re two consenting adults who, under any othercircumstance, could hook up without a second thought. This—this is just messy. And sober Anders will agree with me. Drunk Anders—well, I don’t even know who you are at this moment.”

He chuckles, and the sound somehow eases the worry seeping into my bones. “Lucinda, I think you’re overreacting,” he says. “And for the record, when I’m sober, I’ll want you just the same—I have since the day I met you.”

“No!” I shout, making us both jump, then laugh. “No, I told you. You can’t say things like that to me. Don’t be romantic. Or sexy. Don’t be anything. Just—just be quiet.”