Filthy English

She lowered her eyes, hiding from me, but I could see that her emotions, like mine, were all over the place. I suspected it had nothing to do with our kiss and everything to do with her missing fiancé.

Thinking of her getting shafted at the altar by Hartford made me ballistic.

But why was I revved up like an Indy racecar? Me—the cool guy who never looked back at the girls he’d conquered.

Because Remi Montague, that’s why; the one girl who’d blown my mind—and scared the shit out of me—when I was just a sophomore at nineteen.

She let out a gasp.

I paused. “Your ankle? You okay?”

She nodded, that wounded gaze hitting me again, her full lips still swollen from my kisses.

I tore my eyes off her face, but it didn’t stop the memories from crashing down.

We began at the start of her freshman year when she showed up for a party at the Tau house on a Friday night and, like a magnet, my eyes had been drawn to her.

She hadn’t been my type at all with her prim sweater and innocent blue eyes.

Usually I went for the sorority girls who knew my game—females with plenty of daddy’s money and blasé attitudes about sex. But Remi; there was something about her that sucked me in—even though she was shy, had a brain like Einstein, and dressed like she was headed to a PTA meeting.

Her lush lips told another story though, demanding to be kissed.

I told myself to leave her alone. Several times.

But like a magnet, I’d planted myself next to her. I couldn’t help myself.

We talked and laughed over spiked punch. A while later, we clasped hands and laughed as they sent us upstairs in a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Yeah. It was silly, but we played along. We had no clue the heat it would lead to when we got in the closet and kissed . . . and kissed. She lit me up with lust and for an entire seventy-two hours together, we rolled around naked in my bed. It had been Labor Day weekend and most of the house was empty. We’d gotten up to scrounge around for food, take showers, and chase each other around the house, but we’d dived right back in to my bed.

Fast. Slow.

Me on top. Her on top.

Sitting on a chair.

Against the wall.

She was everything I never knew I wanted in a girl—except I couldn’t have her.

I didn’t do relationships.

Then Eva-Maria, one of the fraternity little sisters I’d been with a few times, had shown up that Monday and ruined everything. She’d marched into my room and gone berserk, tossing books at Remi and claiming I was her boyfriend.

Remi, a girl who clearly didn’t get involved with dramatics, had quickly dressed and left my room as I’d stood there naked trying to explain in a logical way that Eva-Maria wasn’t really a permanent thing, just someone I slept with when I was horny.

I came back to the present when Remi tipped up the bottle of tequila in my arms to take a sip. She’d slapped me tonight. Not that I hadn’t deserved it. Sure, I’d been a cocky smartass when she finally figured out who I was, but that was all a front.

I hadn’t known how to react to her.

She had this uncanny ability of making me feel like I was a blithering arse.

I shook my head. Focus on the here and now. Get her to a booth, get her settled with an ice pack, call a cab, and get her home.

And Hartford. Sonofabitch. Thinking of him fanned the flames higher.

He’d dumped her?

In what universe did that even make sense? He’d started seeing Remi a few months after she and I had our fling, and from the looks of them around campus, they’d been crazy about each other. Not that I’d noticed.

“You putting me down anytime soon?” Her voice had a slight slur. “This circus sideshow you’re doing is giving me motion sickness.”

“Trust me, I can’t get you there fast enough,” I retorted.

Every single booth was taken, but that didn’t stop me from marching up to an occupied one in a back corner. With clenched teeth, I politely asked the three people to move. I got a few raised eyebrows and one muttering arsehole, but with Spider behind me all puffed up and ready to tango, they left.

I eased her down just as a waitress came scurrying over and asked what we needed.

“A glass of water and an ice pack,” I said curtly. “She fell down near the bar. Hurry, please.”

The waitress’s eyes flared. “Should I get the manager for you?”

Remi waved her off with a weak smile. “Once I get some ice, it’ll go down. Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

I grabbed an extra chair from a table a few feet away and pulled it up to Remi. “Here. Elevate your foot.”

She did, her eyes looking everywhere except me.

“Where’s Lulu now?” I asked. She was the life of any party and a complete opposite to Remi; they were thick as thieves.

“Dancing, last I saw.”

“She shouldn’t leave you alone in a nightclub.”

She ignored me and cuddled the bottle of tequila. “This stuff tastes better the more you drink. Want some?”

“You’re sloshed, Remi,” I muttered.

“Am not.”

I studied her, taking in the smeared lipstick from where we’d kissed. Her eyes were glassy too, a hard glint in them, a look I’d become accustomed to over the years whenever we’d bump into each other.

I sighed and turned to Spider, describing Lulu’s signature pink hair and height. He looked dubious about searching the dance floor but dashed off to find her.