Page 13 of The Perfect Wrong

God help me, I would—if only she wasn’t falling to pieces in my arms.

“O-okay,” she whispers, heaving out a sigh that makes her small body ripple. “My best friend and I made this stupid pact.”

“Pact? What, like a bet?”

She nods.

“I’ve got one more semester left at Berkeley. My dating life—” She pauses, turning her eyes away before she says, “—my sex life, I mean, it hasn’t been the greatest.”

“So? Sounds like typical college shit to me,” I tell her. “All the sex you can stand with people who’ve got no fucking clue about fucking.”

Another raw laugh slips out of her. “Are you always this blunt?”

“Yeah, but it makes you happy.” I shrug. “So what about your sex life, Miss Delia?”

For a heavy second, she bites her lip, dragging her eyes to mine with effort.

“I’ve had quite a dry spell,” she whispers, wincing. “And Marnie, she’s way more outgoing. Everything comes easy when she gets around like a hummingbird. She thinks I’m wasting my time, missing the whole college dating experience or whatever. So, she gave me until the end of summer.”

My head is spinning, or maybe it’s just the blood loss in my brain from everything flowing to my dick.

Dry spell?

Is she pulling my goddamn tail?

I can’t imagine this chick having adry spellwith anything bedroom-related.

Hell, I shouldn’t imagine it.

Because every second I do just hardens my stare and adds hellfire to my blood. Every searing pulse in my skin screams at me to solve Delia’s problem for her.

Ideally by dragging her off to the nearest crop of rocks and fucking her soul out.

“What, you’re saying you’re on a deadline to hook up?” I growl. Too harsh.

I immediately regret the hurt look she gives me.

“Sorry. Guess I’m just surprised to hear you’re having such a rough time,” I say, pushing her hands into mine and pulling her closer. “You’re young and hot. I hate that I have to tell you that. Shit, you’re a knockout, princess, and I don’t just mean your body. You’ve got a brain in your head if you’re not blowing it out at these parties. You’ve got money. You’ve obviously got friends.”

I stop, gesturing to a couple passed out asleep under a blanket about twenty feet away. I’m sure they’ll wake up in a few hours with one wicked hangover.

“But I don’t have, um, prospects,” she says quietly, like she’s biting her tongue.

Fuck.

I can’t fathom why this is so hard for a girl who might as well be California royalty.

Does she have some weird disease?

Is she completely mental?

“What happens if you don’t give this Marnie what she wants by autumn then? Death by dildo firing squad?”

She rolls her eyes. I hold in a smile.

“Worse. She gets to choose who I sleep with when school starts up...”

“What the hell?” Anger and shock surge up my throat. I’ve heard of arranged marriages, but arranged hookups? “Lady, you’re smart enough to know you can tell her to pound sand. Don’t do anything for a goofy-ass pact that’s got zero legal weight.”