The Matchmaker's Replacement

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “As you should be. Big girls don’t cry . . . they kick ass. Don’t freak me out like that again, it’s not good for my heart.”

  “Finally admitting you have one?”

  Lex spread his arms wide. “Clearly, otherwise you’d still be waiting tables.”

  “Or dancing,” I muttered.

  “Hah.” Lex laughed, actually laughed as if it was funny. “No offense, Gabs, but you’re not like those girls on stage. You can’t . . . You just can’t.”

  “I can’t?” Why the hell was I getting offended? “What do you mean I can’t?”

  Lex laughed harder. “Gabs, look, there’s nothing wrong with being innocent. Lots of guys dig a girl who has fields that have never been touched, watered, planted, plowed—”

  I held up my hand. “I get it.”

  “But those types of girls, the good girls, the ones who’ve never been . . .” He smirked. “Conquered? They don’t typically know how to use their bodies in a way that mimics sex on stage. Get it?”

  “No.” I crossed my arms. “I don’t get it! Dancing is dancing! A two-year-old can do it!”

  “Bad example, bad mental picture all around, Gabs, again solidifying my point. Good girls don’t dance, not like that.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Embrace your goodness; don’t get pissed. It’s a compliment.”

  “The hell it is!”

  “Damn, I love it when you swear,” Lex murmured, taking a long draw of champagne. “See, at least you do that right.”

  “I can’t last in here for three hours,” I muttered, jumping to my feet and starting my pacing all over again.

  “Want to play games on my cell phone?”

  “Like a child!” I blurted. “That’s it! You’re treating me like I’m . . . a toddler! Like I should be thankful you just saved me from hell. Be honest: If you had a sticker and a sucker, would you give them to me if I shut my mouth the entire time?”

  Lex gave me a guilty look.

  “I’m a woman!”

  “Well, if you were a dude, we’d be having a different conversation and you probably would have punched the guys grabbing your ass earlier . . .”

  Without thinking, I grabbed my glass of champagne, chugged it, poured another, chugged that one, then with shaky hands grabbed the little remote, turned up the music, and jumped on stage.

  I expected Lex to say something inappropriate or at least roll his eyes. Instead, he looked . . . panicked.

  “Gabs!” he yelled above the music. “Look, I’m sorry! Just get down!!”

  “Oh, I’ll get down!” I grabbed the pole with one hand and leaned back. “Just wait.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lex

  Warning bells went off in my head, but I still didn’t move.

  A freaking alarm sounded, and my hand twitched.

  My body was paralyzed. Though my blood was still pumping, which I knew because I felt that blood hurry its way to all the wrong places as Gabs took a teetering step onto that stage.

  My eyes . . . thank God my eyes were still working as they greedily searched for an exit, for an escape, because my body and my mind were not in sync, not at all. My body wanted to stay, while my mind told me it would be just one more thing, one more moment that would slide me farther down the hill. One day I was going to look back at all these moments and go, well, hell, it wasn’t the first step that did it, or even the second, but the accumulation of all those moments and all those instances when I said yes—but should have said no and run like hell.

  Ellie Goulding’s voice filled the room as “Powerful” began playing. Shit. I gripped the leather sofa, then panicked. I didn’t want her to think I was responding, but with the way my fingers were digging into the leather, I might as well have been Wolverine.

  Gabs’s heels were plain and black, but still spiky. The sound of them clicking against the floor next to the pole did something to my body, making my breathing pick up speed even though she hadn’t started yet.

  Bold, clear green eyes locked on mine, and then her hand touched the pole. I felt that touch as if she was grabbing me. My body gave a little jerk as her fingers slid down the metal. Jeans tightening, I had no escape, no choice but to watch and pray she wouldn’t notice what that simple action did to my sanity.

  “So?” I challenged her, praying it would make her lose her nerve. Hell, I’d even take the tears. “You gonna dance or just touch the pole?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  Shit. I knew that look.

  Too far, Lex.

  She’d dance all night to convince me. I didn’t need that; no man with my sexual appetite needed that sort of torture.

  One sexy leg wrapped around the pole.

  My mouth went completely dry as she slowly threw her head back, and then that little tease spun around the pole like she was born there.

  What the hell?

  Since when did virgins pole dance?

  Knowing she was untouched, knowing that for the most part no man had ever seen her in the throes of pleasure, made the experience that much more raw. Everything about the way she slid around the pole—the way her body moved down it only to slowly move back up, making me notice every curve of her hips and ass—had me losing my damn mind.

  I crossed my legs.

  I coughed into my hand.

  I thought of Ian’s grandmother.

  Nothing.

  My body wanted.

  Simple.

  Hard.

  Fast.

  Slow.

  In as many positions and ways as physically possible.

  Patience wasn’t one of my virtues.

  My hands twitched at my sides as my cock swelled with painful need. I briefly closed my eyes, giving myself a break, but that was almost worse, because at least when my eyes were open she was fully dressed.

  But when they were closed?

  She was stripped of every piece of clothing—except her shoes. Bad idea!

  I popped my eyes open again. Her hair had fallen in her face and one eye peeked out as her lips parted. Getting into it, she spun again and again.

  Damn, I was beyond uncomfortable, getting rubbed raw by my own jeans while I tried to adjust myself without her seeing.

  The song was coming to an end.

  And so was I.

  In more ways than one.

  Ian would have laughed his ass off, and if it had been any other girl I would have told him.

  But with Gabs?

  He’d probably kill me.

  And I’d deserve it.

  Family.

  Sister.

  Best friend.

  Holy shit, she just sucked her thumb.

  My vision blurred as she stepped off the stage and took two steps in my direction. I leaned forward, body on fire.

  The minute she was within reaching distance, I jerked her onto my lap. Gabs let out a little moan as her skirt hiked up past her hips. My hands followed the material as she rocked against me.

  I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t anything.

  My response was primal, with this instinctual need to mark her, make her mine, and be the very first guy to do it.

  The only guy to touch her.

  Ever.

  Heat surged between our bodies as I gripped her hips, moving her harder against me.

  The song ended.

  Another started.

  I barely noticed. The entire bar could have burned down around us—probably was, because the explosiveness between our touches was enough to do that very thing.

  “Gabs,” I moaned out her name when she started riding me harder. “That’s it,” I encourage
d, officially stepping outside of my own body as she panted against me.

  My mouth found hers. I couldn’t stop kissing her, tasting her.

  And then a knock sounded on the door.

  It wasn’t loud enough to do anything except irritate me.

  But Gabs froze.

  My grip on her was still tight, as though my hands were begging for her to stay, just . . . stay.

  Her eyes opened.

  She sucked in her swollen bottom lip and let out a rough exhale. My entire body was buzzing.

  Neither of us said anything.

  I didn’t know what the hell to say.

  I just knew that I couldn’t be an ass.

  I wanted to be. It was my MO. Be an ass, push her away, stay in the safe zone with Ian.

  The knock got louder.

  With a curse, I slowly peeled her off my body, made sure her legs were covered, got up from the couch looking all kinds of turned-on, and opened the door.

  “Sorry.” The waitress looked apologetic. “The boss just wanted to know if you needed more champagne.”

  I had told the asshat not to interrupt us.

  But in that moment, I was thankful, because I sure as hell had been about five minutes from screwing my best friend’s “sister” in a strip club, on a red leather couch, in front of a stripper pole.

  Holy hell, could I be any less human?

  Any other girl . . . I wouldn’t think twice.

  But it was Gabs.

  I hung my head and croaked out, “Yeah, um, that would be great.” The waitress turned around, and I tapped the back of her shoulder and said, “A bottle of Jack would be nice as well, and maybe . . .” I was going to burn in hell. Alone. Fantastic. “Send in some more girls? I think Gabi needs to go home, and I’ve bought her for the rest of her shift so she’s free to go.”

  The girl smirked. “I’m free.”

  Yay.

  “Great.” I forced a smile. “That’s . . . great.” It was so far from great, I wanted to puke.

  When the waitress left, Gabs was already standing, arms crossed, face a mask of indifference as if I hadn’t just insulted everything that happened between us.

  “So . . .” Gabs nodded. “I can leave?”

  “Yeah, you’ve done your . . . job.” I don’t know why I said it. Maybe because it felt like she was dismissing me when really it was the exact opposite, when I was saving us both from an epic mistake.

  “Hah!” Gabs let out a little laugh and leveled me with a cold stare. “But you clearly . . . didn’t do yours.”

  “Using me for sex?” I tilted my head in amusement. “You know all you have to do is ask, Gabs . . . but maybe wait until money doesn’t exchange hands. Don’t want to start that career too early . . .”

  Her cheeks reddened. “I hate you.”

  “The feeling’s mutual, believe me.” I sneered.

  She shoved past me just as three girls walked through the doorway. With a strangled curse, she pushed between them and left me alone with girls I didn’t even care about.

  I went back to the couch and sat.

  Numb.

  Girls started dancing around me.

  Shots were poured.

  And I couldn’t give two shits about it. But I did what I always did, I tried to revert back into the guy I always was with girls. I flirted, I touched, I even kissed.

  And felt like I was going to puke the whole time.

  Because the only girl I wanted had just left.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gabi

  I was too angry to cry. What had I been thinking? I went over to my car and shoved my key in the ignition. It sputtered.

  “Come on, baby.” I clenched my teeth and tried again. “Come on.”

  Finally it roared to life.

  I sent up a prayer of thanks and with shaking hands turned the steering wheel toward the general direction of the parking lot exit. Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to cry over someone so stupid. Guys like Lex, Lex in general, didn’t deserve my tears.

  Why did I always do this to myself?

  Why?

  I’d been drunk on the power that the little cheap stage had given me. Lex hadn’t looked at me like Ian’s best friend or his most hated enemy. He’d watched me with a raw hunger that I’d never seen before. He’d tried to mask it, and then, after the mask had slipped, all I saw was . . . desire.

  Finally. That was the only word I could think as his eyes hooded, his fists clenched, and his body so clearly responded.

  I wasn’t planning on walking toward him, but I’d gone halfway, and he’d pulled me the rest. His mouth was . . . Words couldn’t describe the way Lex kissed, like he was pulling every inch of pleasure he could from me. Trying not to respond to him was impossible. Even his hands on my hips . . . I shuddered and shoved the memory into the box of Never Again. Damn, that box was getting full.

  “Are you drunk?” I asked. Finals were over. Ian and Lex were hosting a party at their house. I was invited because I was invited everywhere Ian was. Ever since freshman year Lex had given me a wide berth, if wide meant he treated me like crap and I returned the favor.

  “No.” Lex’s eyes looked clear. “Not yet.”

  “Got big plans for getting wasted and impregnating a nice young girl, only to have her drop out of school?”

  Lex rolled his eyes. “Not tonight, Gabs.”

  “Whoa.” I blocked his exit from the balcony. “Are you . . . okay?”

  He licked his lips and stared at his shoes. Lex never stared at his shoes. He was an eye-contact sort of guy. It was rare to see him glance away from people. In fact, one of the few things I respected in him was the way he treated others—not me, but others. Everyone was important, everyone’s opinion mattered. I clearly didn’t count, but for whatever reason, I was okay with that.

  “No.” Lex huffed out a breath. “I, uh . . .” He scratched his head. “No.”

  “Anything I can do?” I touched his arm. I shouldn’t have. That was my first mistake.

  His eyes immediately locked on my arm.

  My fingers tingled as if he had some sort of mental power, or laser beams coming out of his pupils, nailing my fingertips to his bulky forearm.

  “What if I asked you for a hug?” he said slowly, then looked up. His eyes were clear, so hopeful. “Would you laugh at me?”

  “Probably.” I grinned. “But only after the hug took place. I’d still allow you your pride and all that.”

  Lex barked out a laugh, then held up a finger. “One hug . . . and then you can rub it in my face.”

  “Deal.” I held out my hand.

  He shook it, then without releasing it, tugged me against his body. Our chests collided, and my head nearly knocked his chin into submission.

  And then his big burly arms wrapped around me.

  With a sigh, I returned the movement.

  We spent a few minutes hugging, and the hugging somehow turned into dancing, and one song turned into two songs, and then three, even though the music was barely audible from the house.

  “Thanks,” Lex whispered over my head. “For the hug and the dances.”

  I swallowed and looked up; our faces were inches apart. “It was nice.”

  “What?” He frowned. “No sarcasm? Did my hug drain all your superpowers?”

  “Yes.” I nodded seriously. “Apparently you’re my kryptonite.”

  “Not Superman.”

  “No, I guess not.” I lifted one shoulder and let it fall with a sigh. “What’s Lex Luthor’s kryptonite?”

  “Superman.”

  I laughed.

  “Or maybe Supergirl,” he whis
pered. “Yeah, Supergirl . . .”

  “And how does she get her superpowers?”

  “Sunshine,” he whispered. “Just like Superman, only . . . prettier.” His head lowered while my chin lifted toward his.

  “I like that.”

  “Me too.”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I almost said it against his mouth. We were so close to kissing I couldn’t stop shaking.

  “I forget.”

  “You lie.”

  “No.” He cupped my face. “For fifteen minutes . . . I forgot. Thank you.”

  He kissed me.

  It was a quick peck on the lips.

  And then another.

  And another.

  Until our mouths were fused together, arms wildly grabbing at one another. He didn’t taste like beer at all, he tasted like . . . cinnamon, almost like he’d been drinking tea at his own party or something.

  His tongue met mine in a whisper of a kiss. I let out a moan.

  And then the doors to the outside burst open.

  “What the hell!” Ian shouted.

  Lex shoved me away so hard I collided with a chair, and my butt was nearly numb from getting hit so hard.

  “Drunk,” Lex blurted, and then the asshole winked at me with a dopey smile. “Thought she was Ashley.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Lex—”

  “Ashley does have brown hair.” Ian seemed to accept his excuse.

  “You guys are both assholes and idiots!” I yelled.

  “Aw, Gabs.” Lex tried to reach for me. “Don’t be mad, you’re hot too.”

  Ian cleared his throat.

  “In a flat-chested type of way.”

  Tears burned my eyes, and my mouth wouldn’t work. Just like my brain couldn’t come up with a nasty retort, something that would make him hurt just like he’d hurt me.

  So I stomped off, to Lex’s laughter, and swore I’d never let him in again.