Reborn at the Wedding: I Changed the Groom

The next second, someone kicked Dylan hard. He let out a muffled groan and crashed to the ground.

A faint, cool woody scent wrapped around me, and my wrist was caught in a firm grip.

Harrison shot me a calm, indifferent glance. “Don’t waste your breath on a dog. Let’s go.”

I looked at Dylan, who was sprawled on the floor, and frowned.

Shit. Now the dog’s reputation was ruined.

Dylan cared more about his pride than anything. After being humiliated like this, there was no way he’d let me off easily.

He got up from the ground, pretending to be lazy and unbothered, his tone dripping with mockery. “Harrison, you must be starving. Even a woman I’ve played with hundreds of times, you still want?”

Harrison’s expression was impossible to read. He replied, calm and measured, “If you can’t control your mouth, I don’t mind using all my money and connections to bury you in this circle.”

“You—” Dylan choked on his rage, then turned all his hostility on me.

“Tessa, stop messing around. In Harrison’s eyes, you’re at best a shiny new toy. Once he gets bored, he’ll toss you aside.

“If you come back now, I can still be generous and pretend nothing happened.”

His voice held three parts smugness and seven parts delusional self-confidence.

I walked up to him in my high heels.

“I knew it, you’d definitely—” Seeing me return, Dylan’s face lit up with a triumphant grin.

He didn’t expect that, a second later, he’d take another kick.

I wasn’t that strong, but a high heel to the body still hurt like hell.

He screamed, collapsing to the floor again.

The white crystal toe of my shoe dragged across his cheek.

The clarity and foolishness in my eyes vanished, replaced by something sharp and vicious. I cursed him out, every word deliberate. “Go fuck yourself.”

“And by the way, you should change the mirrors in your house to frosted ones. Right now, all they do is reflect how greasy you are, and you still can’t see how ugly you actually look.”

Instead of getting angry, Dylan laughed. He lifted his head and brushed a light kiss over the crystal of my shoe. “Tessa, you’re just acting on impulse. You’ll regret this.”

Fuck. How did this scumbag become even more twisted and insane in this life?

My stomach turned. Disgusted, I hurried after Harrison and left.

I never noticed how Dylan’s smile behind me grew even more unhinged.

In the Rolls-Royce, Harrison and I sat in the back seat, with a wide gap between us.

I didn’t know if it was because his presence was too overwhelming or because the car felt too small.

I only knew I was burning up.

Soon, my head began to swim.

All at once, I remembered I’d felt this way in my last life too.

Back then, it was after our wedding banquet. My whole body had felt unbearably hot, my mind hazy and unfocused.

When Dylan found out, he didn’t show a shred of concern. He’d just said he wasn’t interested in my “little issues” and told me to go splash some water on my face in the bathroom.

When I came out of the bathroom, my head felt even heavier. Half-conscious, I only remembered a pair of hands groping all over my body.

Then Dylan’s furious voice had split the air by my ear.

When I finally came to, I learned I’d been drugged and had nearly been assaulted by a stranger.

Dylan had shown up just in time.

After that, I’d been even more grateful to him—more devoted, more affectionate.

Yet here I was, living again, and I’d still walked right into the same trap.

Was it that drink Mila handed me?

As I tried to think, the drug took over.

Under its push, my cheeks flushed hot and I couldn’t help the soft, ragged breaths leaving my throat.

A burning ache spread low in my belly, unbearable and insistent.

Harrison noticed something was wrong. On his handsome, sharply cut face, a faintly suspicious look appeared.

My body reacted faster than my brain.

My gaze landed on his face—cool, ascetic, his shoulders broad and his waist narrow—and my hands reached up of their own accord, looping around his neck.

His skin was cool to the touch, like ice, and rubbing against him felt ridiculously good.

My lips brushed across his face in scattered, clumsy kisses, leaving faint marks of lipstick on his jaw and cheek. The air between us grew thick with heat and suggestion.

I was completely lost in the haze, but he still sat there, utterly in control.

“Harrison, you’re not one of those ‘cool men of the wealthy circle’ from those novels, are you?” I blinked up at him, dazed and curious.

His body went still at my words. Then he took off his gold-rimmed glasses, a wicked smile tugging at his lips.

“Who told you I was cold?”

Faced with the predatory look in his eyes, I was struck speechless.

Then he raised the partition between the front and back seats and pinned me beneath him.

With action rather than words, he showed me just how “hot” he really was.

Hot enough to burn.

By the time he was done with me for the first round, my limbs were completely useless.

Harrison, on the other hand, was still full of energy, his enthusiasm overwhelming.

For fuck’s sake, why did no one tell me?

It’s not just love that transfers.

Apparently, drug effects do too.