He cocks an eyebrow. It’s a gesture of sheer arrogance. And rudeness. But somehow it’s hot. And now I’m tingling in places where Hugo’s hug didn’t induce tingling.
What the hell?
But I’ll be damned if I let anybody know, much less admit it to myself. “And I do like a younger man.” My voice is buttery sweet. “They’re more accommodating and not as damaged. Smell nicer, too.”
Liar! Hugo did not smell better than Wyatt.
A muscle in his neck twitches. “I guess you need them undamaged if you plan on giving them herpes.”
It takes a second for the meaning to sink in. “Are you telling me I have herpes?” I demand as fury surges so hard inside me that I feel like my head is about to explode.
“I’m not telling you anything you haven’t already said.”
What does he have to be resentful about? He isn’t the one who just got accused of being a herpes spreader! “I can’t believe this. I agree to go to the stupid wedding, and you accuse me of having an STD?”
His jaw slackens. “Are you kidding? You’re the one who said—”
I’m tired, and I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I raise my hand. “You know what? I have something more important to do at the moment. Like watch Champ puke up his dinner.” I slam the door shut and, to make a point, turn the lock loudly, making sure the entire floor can hear it click!
Then I fan myself hard, as heat that has nothing to do with anger courses through me. Must be a delayed reaction from the hug. It’s gotta be.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Wyatt
I shouldn’t have mentioned the herpes. That wasn’t just immature, it was plain stupid. Now she knows how the note she left is still bugging me.
Yeah, so what if it still bothers me? She’s apparently moved on. She’s even dating that kid. Well, not really a kid. He looked pretty full-grown. I was just being mean because I really didn’t like the way he was hugging Kim. Nobody hugs a woman like that unless he likes her.
“You aren’t even listening,” David says around a mouthful of sandwich.
We have a small table to ourselves in the company cafeteria. The place has an amazing array of food, even if they don’t serve burgers.
“I was thinking,” I say.
“About what?”
So I tell him the gist of what happened two nights ago, annoyance resurfacing. He was hugging her too long. Probably a perv trying to feel her up on the sly. Except he can’t fool me.
David nods. “He definitely wanted to sleep with Kim.”
“Right?”
“Yeah. Unless the woman’s underage or, like, sixty or something. A man who denies it is a liar. Basically the same as a woman who says she likes chocolate, but doesn’t want to eat it.”
I nod, feeling vindicated, even though I feel bad about bringing up the herpes thing. Not that I’m going to share that with David.
Maybe I should do something to make it up to her… “Hey, when you put your foot in your mouth, what’s the best way to recover?”
“Depends. You want to sleep with her, right? Not just be friends?”
My mind opts for “friendly,” but my nether regions are definitely voting for “wild monkey sex.” I scowl at the terrible direction my dick’s heading. David’s exact words were “sleep with,” but it doe
sn’t seem to care. Probably has an internal translator that changes everything into something it wants to hear.
“Okay, so you want hot monkey sex.”
I almost jump. Is David telepathically linked to my junk? “What makes you think that?”