Page 42 of Under Her

“I can. And I will.” I take a menacing step toward her. “If you ever cross the line like that again, I’ll have your ass out on the street before you can say pink slip.” I walk over and pick up my shirt from where I left it on the sofa along with the rest of my clothes. “Oh, and sexual harassment charges aren’t just against men, you know.”

Worry sparks in her eyes. “You wouldn’t…”

“I would. And good luck explaining to Morgan what just happened.”

Defiance narrows her eyes along with something else, something I’m not quite sure of…until she says, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to tell Morgan the truth—that we’ve fucked already. I’m sure she’d love to hear all about that. And maybe I’ll tell her that we’ve been screwing all along.” She smirks, trailing her finger over her cleavage.

The bitch. She knows I have a thing for Morgan. Shit.

I shrug like I don’t give a fuck. But the truth is, my heart is hammering in my chest.

I yank my shirt on and do up the buttons. “Go home,” I tell her, my voice hard. “I’ll talk to Morgan.”

She smiles like she’s won something. Because she has. She’s won this round.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Wild.” Then, she sashays out of my office, the door closing firmly behind her.

Morgan

Twelve and a Half Years Ago

You can try to ignore something…someone…your own feelings. But you’re not really ignoring them; you’re just pretending you are.

And I’ve gotten really good at pretending.

Pretending that I can’t stand Wilder Cross. Pretending that my heart doesn’t beat a little faster every time I see him. Pretending that my heart doesn’t sink when I see him with a girl.

Pretending that my crush hasn’t turned into real feelings for him. Because how can I have feelings for a jackass like him? It doesn’t make sense. So, therefore, the feelings can’t be real. Right?

See, I’m damn good at pretending. And I figure, if I keep on like this, one day, my pretense will just stick. It’ll become reality.

Avoidance is a great tool. If I don’t see him much, then I don’t have to fake it at all.

So, wouldn’t you just know that Wilder and I have been paired together to do an assignment for our Economics class?

We only need to do one study session together, so we can figure out which part each of us will do. But the thought of one session—just me and him, one-on-one—feels like the best and worst kind of torture.

I’m great at pretending to myself and everyone else, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to pretend if it’s just Wilder and me. And he can’t ever know that I have feelings for him.

God, could you imagine the fun he and his buddies would have with that?

Stick-Up-Her-Ass-Ford has a thing for Wilder Cross.

Yeah, that’s the nickname that Wilder has for me. Not the most original. He doesn’t say it to my face, but I have ears. And I can’t say that it doesn’t bother me because it does.

Not that Wilder cares about my feelings.

The only thing he cares about is sleeping with as many girls as possible.

He screws just about anything with a vagina. And, of course, they’re all slim, gorgeous girls because Wilder Cross doesn’t do anything over a size four.

At the remembrance of what he said that night, I breathe through the ache in my chest that I still get, even now.

So, I guess you could say that I’m not looking forward to this study session with him.

And, when my boss asked me if I could stay a few more hours, as one of the girls had called in sick, I said yes. Not only would the extra cash come in handy, but it also delayed the inevitable a little longer.

And, now, straight from work, I’m on my way to Wilder’s frat house, which is where we’re meeting. I did try to book a room at the library, but they were all full, and I definitely didn’t want Wilder in my dorm room. The dorm room that I no longer share with Tori.