The Hook-Up Experiment (The Experiment, #1)

by Emma Hart

And I’m still waiting for algebra to help me with my taxes.

“I will make a gentleman outta you, boy.” “What about making a lady out of Peyton?” “Hey!” I interjected, turning over Mimi’s glass and grabbing the jug. “I’m a lady. I let men hold open doors for me, and I’ve never flashed anyone getting out of a car.” Dom stared at me. “Peyt, you once told me you’d only let a man hold a door open for you if he’d smack your ass as you walked past.”

K? K? Fucking K? Ugh. I wanted to stab something. I hated that response with a passion.

I was competitive. I needed to be the best. I needed to be right. I had to win. I was a modern-day Monica Geller.

I jabbed my finger through the air at Mellie. “Control your human.”

“We promise we’ll find you a pretty dick.” I snorted. “Right, and my vagina will smell like a freshly bloomed rose garden halfway through my period.

“Hair color,” Chloe demanded. “What?”

“You can have a say. Think of it as guidelines. Also, I don’t want to be the one getting poisoned because you don’t like the date. So, give me a hair color before I change my mind.” Bingo. “Brunette. No shade preference.” “Wasn’t gonna ask.” She wrote it down. “Eyes?” “I don’t care. I don’t plan to look into ‘em.” “Age?” “Anywhere between twenty-five and thirty-two.” “Precise,” Mellie noted. I nodded in her direction. I knew what I liked. What could I say? Chloe sighed. “Height? Body type?” “Tall and fit. With just enough muscle so I can run my tongue down—” “Cock size?” she blurted out, stopping me in my tracks. I grinned. She was blushing furiously.

Mellie rolled h...

“Oh, Chlo. Why are you even asking this? The answer is long, thick, and hard.” “Like a math exam.” I grinned even more. “A math exam?” Chloe asked, looking back at me over her shoulder. I sipped my wine. “C...

God, what if they screwed this up? I wouldn’t fall in love. Unless you were sweatpants or a brand-new donut place, I wouldn’t fall in love with you.

“Who is it?” “We’re not telling you. You know that.” She distorted her body on the chair and tucked the bright square into her pocket. “I promise he’s hot, has a suitable penis, and you’ll never fall in love with him.” I blinked at her. That sounded like the punchline to a joke.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” I groaned. Mellie grimaced. “Peyt, you should have known that the second you agreed to do this shit.”

“You promise I’ll win this stupid bet?” In unison, they both crossed their finger over their heart in an ‘x’ motion. Well. That was fucking reassuring, wasn’t it?

Not all best friends are created equal. Unless they’re mine. Then they’re both raging assholes.

The cab driver glanced at me in the mirror. “Blind date?” she asked, pushing a dark braid out of her eyes. I nodded. “My best friends are assholes.” She laughed, pulling away as the light changed green. “Ain’t everyone’s?”

The hostess greeted me with a grin. “A little birdie tells me you’re here on a blind date.” I held up a finger. “Marie, don’t you start. I’m stressed as it is.” She crossed something out on the paper in front of her. “Well, don’t be. I saw him to y’all’s table around twenty minutes ago.” She rounded her station and leaned into me. “Girl, he is fine.” “So is my new rug,” I drawled. “No. I mean he’s so hot I think the chef just served him up on a goddamn platter for you.”

No. No. They wouldn’t have done this to me. Time was a funny thing, wasn’t it? The last time I saw the man in front of me, we were eighteen. It was our high school graduation. He’d held eye contact a fraction of a second too long, and in that fraction, I’d plotted his murder no less than seven times. I couldn’t be looking at Elliott Sloane, the one person who’d once broken my heart without ever knowing it. No. There was no way. Chloe and Mellie knew what he’d done to me. There was no way they’d do this to me. Yet, here I was, standing in front of him, on a blind date those bitches had set up for me. I was going to kill them.

“You can thank Mellie Rogers and Chloe Collins.” His lips slowly curved up into an amused smile. “The Three Musketeers are still together?” “Some loves last forever.” I sipped my wine. “Mine for them has just run its course.”

“You look older and you sound older, but you don’t act like it.”

“Now, are you gonna put your inner asshole away long enough for me to tell you how we ended up on this godforsaken date?” “When you put it like that…” He leaned back in his chair and looked at me, fingers clasped around the base of his beer bottle. Great. This was going well. I sighed and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Dominic decided to challenge me to find out if you could sleep with someone three times and not fall in love with them.” His eyebrows shot up. “And I’m assuming you’re the test subject.” “At your service,” I said dryly. “So, because I simply can’t lose—” “I’m shocked.” “—Here I am.” I sat back, too. Did I? Did I tell him I owned PAD? And that was how we got here? Fuck it. I did. I was going to tell him. “And you got roped into this, because, well.” I twirled the stem of my glass between my finger and thumb. “I own Pick-A-Dick.” He choked on the mouthful of beer he’d just taken. The glass bottle made a thundering clunk as he slammed it down on the table so he could smack his chest.

“There’s only one condition,” he said. “I don’t know if I want to hear this.” “I’m not going to ask to tie you up or do anything hugely kinky, Peyton. If I wanted kink, I’d tape your mouth shut.”

Multiple orgasms: the only thing which, in this day of social media, is designed to make men feel bad and inferior.

“We need to set boundaries.” “We do?” Elliott asked, closing the door behind me. “Yes.” I hung my jacket on the hook and turned back to look at him with my hands on my hips. “Keep kissing on the mouth to a minimum. It’s too intimate.” He nodded. “Agreed.” “Foreplay is necessary, but it doesn’t have to result in an orgasm.” I ignored the raise of his eyebrows. “This should be quick and rough. Got it?” He held out his hands. “I can deal with that.” I headed for the stairs and started to walk up them. “When we’re done, I’ll disappear to shower. You should be gone when I get out.” “I have to admit, this is an efficient hook-up. I’m a little turned on by this.” I sighed. “Deal?” “Deal. Trust me. I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.” “Thank God. It’s so much easier if we’re on the same page.”

bra.is r

error.

His eyes met mine. “So wet for someone you hate.” I swallowed. “My body isn’t as smart as I am.” “I think your body is a genius,” he replied, keeping his eyes on me as he lowered his mouth to my pussy.

“What?” I asked. “Nothing. Just wondering if you were going to finish that prayer you started a few minutes ago.” “I will,” I said, walking past him. “I’ll say amen when you shut the front door behind you.” He laughed. “Enjoy your shower, Peyton.”

Turns out, having sex with the girl you crushed on in high school was better than you thought it would be when you were eighteen. Even if there’s a chance she was plotting your murder after in the shower.

Peyton Austin. I don’t know who I was expecting on that blind date, but it wasn’t her. The scariest part was that she hadn’t changed a bit. She was still the same, self-assured, sexy, sarcastic person she’d always been. She still had that same scathing look that, when shot your way, made you feel two feet tall. It was a skill—one I’d only mastered since becoming a parent.

If I were a smarter man, I’d have walked out of there the second our eyes met. Unfortunately for me, hours of Nick Jr. on the television every week had rotted a good part of my brain that controlled my common sense.

Not to mention she sounded like she wanted to bite off my balls every time she opened her mouth… In hindsight… Letting her mouth near my balls wasn’t the brightest idea. Maybe avoiding that was a good idea going forward.

Me: That’s hardly my fault. I didn’t WANT to wander into your dreams. Elliott: I thought I’d gotten rid of this problem after graduation. Wait, what? I sat upright, the covers now pooling around my stomach. He dreamed about me in high school? Me: You dreamed about me in high school? Elliott: Me and half the other guys in our year. Me: That’s why I stayed a virgin until after graduation. I wasn’t about to lose my virginity to some two-bit fuckboy who’d only ever made out with his right hand. Elliott: And that’s the most accurate description of our graduating class I’ve ever heard.

Me: I’m not listening to this. Elliott: You’re wet, aren’t you?

Plot twist: masturbating to porn doesn’t stop you wanting to screw the guy you hate. That’s what they should have taught in sex ed classes.

“What do you want?” Dom leaned back, linking his fingers behind his head. “What? Can’t a guy drop in on his favorite sister?” “First,” I said, holding up a finger and finally giving him my full attention, “It’s not dropping in when your office is the other half of this building, and your apartment is right upstairs. Second, I’m your only sister, so am, by default, the favorite. Sadly.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “All right, whatever. Chloe isn’t here yet, and I lost my key to the office.” “You keep that on your house key.” He just stared at me. “Boy, I do not know how Mom ever allowed you to move out.” “She got fed up with me losing her keys and decided I should lose my own instead.” Responsible parenting at its finest.

People will always surprise you. Like how a toddler can have a rotting banana skin in their room for a week and not care. Or how your high school fantasy hands out personal discount codes for vibrators.

The biggest problem was that Peyton Austin was hot as fuck, and she knew it. She played on it. Her looks and her not-quite arrogant confidence made for a heady, sexy combination. She was self-assured. She knew what she had, and she used every little bit to her benefit.

“You are the most unashamedly honest woman I’ve ever met,” I admitted. “And if I hadn’t already fucked you blind, that might intimidate me a little bit.”

Parenting was not for the weak of heart. Or the impatient.

Nothing killed libido like the lingering smell of vomit. Or your brother accidentally sexting you.

Kissing was dangerous. It was intimate. It had the potential to make someone feel more than they wanted to. Then again, his smile maybe had that effect, too.

Pizza, best served cold. Right up there with revenge. Ahh, revenge…

Had I been a typical woman and held a grudge for ten years for no reason? Man, that was not a slice of humble pie I wanted to eat. I bet it wouldn’t taste as good as this pizza.

There’s always a right and wrong time for truth. Even when it’s the right time, chances are, life is gonna fuck you up the ass without lube anyway.

Peyton was a tornado in a teacup. A wild, beautiful force of nature ready to forge a path for herself, no matter who or what was in her way.

Fuck adulting. Fuck feelings. Fuck the donut store that runs out of my favorite donuts. Fuck the donut store in particular.

I was bitter and I was angry. It was comparable to that moment in sex where the guy comes, and you don’t. We’d all been there, some of us, unfortunately, more than others. It was also up there with the realization that you’ve watched too much porn because you’re disappointed that your plumber isn’t young and hot but married and a grandfather. Just me? Moving on.

“What are you most mad about?” I rolled my head to the side and looked at them. “Myself.” Mellie raised her eyebrows so high they disappeared beneath her bangs. “Are you admitting you were…wrong?” Wow. My friends knew how to kick a girl when she was down.

They were my best friends. They didn’t need satisfaction today. They needed to feel my pain. That was how friendship worked. I mean, when I was seven, I deliberately got chicken pox so I could still go to Chloe’s house. If I could get pox for her, they could do this for me.

“As a rule, you’re always stubborn.” “No, I’m not,” I replied. “I take breaks on Wednesdays.” “Peyt.” Mellie fought a laugh. “Anyone who responds to, “you’re stubborn” with a denial, is a stubborn piece of ass.”