Page 24 of The Perfect Wrong

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling disembodied.

“We’ll need the whole night. Ineedto hear you again, everything you had to muffle on this beach. Need to make youscream,baby girl, and you will once you’ve had more. You’ll holler real sweet for me, and then you’ll beg.”

I’m speechless.

Floored.

Apparently, I’m not the only one whose brain has fallen out.

And I guess it’s still spinning away in the night because I’m going to pieces for this crazy stranger’s dirty talk.

I’m about to push him into the darkness up the path before he flashes me those sultry, determined green eyes again.

Nope. Too late.

“So you really don’t hate me for tonight?” I venture.

“I’ll hate you if you’re having second thoughts,” he rumbles. “I’ll hate you, but I’ll understand—”

“Tomorrow,”I hiss, unable to get my mind off his body.

My eyes drift lower.

He’s still rock hard, his bulge blatantly outlined in jeans.

“I’ve got your number. We’ll make a night of it,” I promise.

“Good night, sweet Delia.”

He nods one more time and fades into the night, leaving me sighing and collapsing against the wall of the bar.

What did I just agree to?

If it weren’t for Dad’s text, I would’ve done it with a total stranger.

And not just any rando mystery man, but a tall, brash, heavily tattooed freak—the polar opposite of every clean college boy I’ve ever dated.

I don’t know if I’m sick or drunk or crazy, but I’m going to live up to my word.

Tomorrow, I’ll text him.

I can’t walk away when I’mthisclose to losing it with a man who makes my senses purr.

The next twenty-four hours already seem so bright, so lively, so vibrant I can practically taste it.

Tomorrow, I’ll eat light at the family thing. Hopefully I’ll breeze through the snorefest of meeting my new stepbrother.

Then I’ll get in touch with Chris.

Maybe he’ll pick me up and we’ll find a nice bar, maybe a quiet restaurant.

Or I’ll just let him decide.

Maybe we’ll head straight to his place.

It’s just one soul-stealing night.

It’s just awesome sex.