The Matchmaker's Replacement [Kindle in Motion] (Wingmen Inc. Book 2) by Rachel van Dyken Read Free Book Online

school.
    “So . . .” He reached down and tapped the book with one finger. “I know you’ll never say it, but you need me. Let’s get this sweet hell over with so I can train your sorry ass.”
    My mouth was still watering from the scone, and my body betrayed my good sense as I trudged over to the couch and gave a pointed look at Lex’s feet.
    “Fine.” He sighed, slowly pulling his feet from the edge of the couch. “Happy now?”
    “Am I ever happy when I’m with you?”
    “If you are, it’s because I put pot in your scone. Surprise,” Lex said without looking up from the textbook.
    My stomach dropped. “You didn’t.”
    “I didn’t.” He glanced up, a wicked grin marring his perfect features. “But admit it—that would be hilarious.”
    I had to stay calm. If I reacted, he’d actually do it. So I shrugged and went for casual. “Sad that the only way you can have your way with me is if I’m high on drugs, Lex. Seriously.”
    Lex glanced up. “You have a crumb on your left tit. I’d get it, but I don’t want to touch any part of you that may respond to my caress. You understand.”
    I growled out a curse. “Just . . . get on with the whole study session so you can leave and I can drink my body weight in wine.”
    “That’s a shitload of wine—just saying.”
    “Lex!”
    “Organic Chem . . .” He held up the book. “I’m going to help you ace this chapter in less than thirty minutes, but you have to do something for me in return.”
    “I’m not giving you a blow job.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Like I’d ever have to use extortion.”
    We were at an impasse, both of us staring at one another, my gaze more irritated and just pissed off while he looked way too calm. If I blinked, he’d win. I kept my eyes wide, watching, waiting, while his upper lip twitched. Why did all the good-looking ones always have to possess evil powers?
    I crossed my arms.
    His eyes lingered on my lips before he cleared his throat and looked down at the book, knocking it with his knuckles once before saying, “I help you understand all the complicated stuff, and you’re mine to train for the rest of the day.”
    Panic erupted all over my body—or maybe it was just the pot scone. Spending time with him wasn’t just emotionally damaging and draining but physically altering. I never walked away from Lex the same.
    But I needed to pass this class, and already I was behind.
    “Fine.” I lifted my chin, faking a confidence I really didn’t feel. “But no more kissing or touching of any kind.”
    “Can’t train you unless you have actual hands-on experience, Gabs, and I’m pretty sure the last dude who touched you was that really weird emo kid who said you smelled like cheese.”
    “Lex!” I calmed myself down by imagining him getting hit by a party bus full of prostitutes. Something about him dying by his own sin really sat well with me. “His name was Josh, and he was really nice.” There, that sounded calm, collected.
    “Right.” Lex nodded and leaned forward. “Are we really not going to revisit the romantic moment where Josh leaned in to kiss you, then said your hair smelled like feta and burst into tears?”
    “It’s called turophobia, and it’s a real thing, Lex!”
    “The fear of cheese”—Lex nodded as a smug expression crept over his face—“can also be diagnosed as a fear of different types of cheeses, which in turn can trickle into xanthophobia, the fear of the color yellow.” Lex was talking so fast it was like I’d just typed “phobias” into a search engine.
    I huffed. “What’s your point?”
    “My point!” Lex barked out a loud laugh, his bright white smile making my stomach clench with . . . something. It was an ache, and not a good one but one that reminded me what that mouth felt like, damn him. He leaned in and spoke in a low tone. “My point is that it would be totally understandable if one such as yourself suffered from . . .” He tilted his head.