Why does he always make me feel like I’m doing something wrong?
“You,” she said, about a million epithets for “him” running through her head, “are the worst.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders and looked totally unconcerned. “Just because I don’t fall for your country-bumpkin, sweet-as-pie con job like everyone else?” He set his untouched glass of champagne down on the nearest flat surface. “I know exactly what you’re doing with Web, and you won’t get away with it.”
Then, without even bothering to wait for her response—because why would the big jerk?—he strode off, disappearing into the coat closet that was packed full because of an unexpected summer downpour. No one wanted their black-tie finery to get drizzled on, so it was wall-to-wall raincoats and dripping umbrellas.
If he thought disappearing into there was going to stop her, he had another think coming.
Pinched toes protesting, pulse rocketing, and ire stoked to Mt. Vesuvius levels, Hadley marched in there and flung the door shut behind her. He stopped and did a slow-motion turn that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the movies—except Will was anything but hero material. He crossed his arms over his chest, the move only emphasizing his thick biceps even in a hoodie—and raised an eyebrow in question.
The unmitigated cocky gall of this guy. Ugh.
It was beyond past time for this confrontation. After nearly a year of having to deal with his bad attitude, she was more than ready to have it out.
“What. Is. Your. Problem?” She bit each word out as her stride ate up the space between them, until she was mere inches from him, finger jabbing him in his obnoxiously hard chest. She ignored the heat coming off him in waves and jabbed him in the chest again for good measure. “You have got to—”
The rest of that sentence was supposed to be “stop showing up unannounced” but he’d reached down and wrapped his warm, strong hand around hers, presumably to make her stop poking him, and the words froze in her throat as electricity zinged along her skin at the contact.
She tilted her chin upward, her lips parted in shock, and her breath caught—because Will fucking Holt suddenly looked like he wanted to kiss her until they both self-combusted.
And damn her mutinous body, at that moment she knew exactly how he felt.
…
The world froze for Will, shrinking down to the four walls of the tiny coat closet lit only by the dim light of a single wall sconce and Hadley Donavan. He’d meant to stop her from jabbing him again with her finger, but the second their skin connected, his entire brain short-circuited.
He didn’t like her.
Hell, he couldn’t stand her.
And yet…here he was, holding on by a thread—a worn, raggedy, barely-keeping-it-together thread that was milliseconds from snapping. The last thing in the world he should do is kiss the woman angling to take his brother for every million she could.
His muscles tense, his lungs burning from holding his breath, he stayed immobile. One breath, one blink, one brush of her body against his, and he’d give up his half of the several-billion-dollar Holt family fortune to finish what they’d start with a kiss. Then she let out a shaky sigh and used the tip of her tongue to wet her lips before looking up at him with a lust-hazy gaze as she lifted herself up on her toes, and he was a fucking goner.
In a heartbeat, he went from fighting her every step of the way to meeting her in the middle. His lips crashed down on hers as if he’d been waiting years to kiss her. He hadn’t. This was just a fluke of the moment, a crazy combination of timing and lust and frustration and all the other things building up since they’d met. It meant nothing. And he couldn’t stop.
Her hands were in his hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him down even as she strained upward, and he deepened the kiss. Sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her, teasing a little moan from her, and she eliminated any remaining space between them. She let go of his hair and he went to take a step back, but instead of taking the space he offered, she went with him until he was standing with his back against the wall. The damp raincoats surrounded them as they kissed. Was that even the word for what this was? It was more of a breaking of the dam as they gave in to what had always been buzzing under the surface of their bickering and teasing.
She slid her hands underneath his hoodie, her fingertips cool against his abs. How was it possible to not believe something was happening and want more all at the same time? He had no fucking clue, but he was right there. He wanted—needed—all of her even though he shouldn’t. Words like “gold digger,” “brother’s so-called friend,” and “enemy” zipped around in his head, but they had all the impact of a buzzing gnat, easily waved aside for the pleasure that was kissing Hadley.
He didn’t mean to reach for her skirt, to pull it upward so he could slip his hand underneath, but there he was with his palm gliding up the outside of her smooth thigh and the round curve of her hip. Fuck, she felt good, better than he’d imagined too many times to count. He cupped her glorious ass, too much awesome to fit in his hands, and pulled her close so he could feel her heat against his hard cock straining against his jeans. Hadley let out a soft moan of encouragement, rubbing against him as she forced her hands between them and reached for the top button of his jeans.
A better man would remember why she was awful. Why she couldn’t be trusted. Why this was wrong. But he wasn’t a better man. Will was drowning in Hadley and he couldn’t think of a better way to go.
Then a bright light cut through the semidarkness of the coat closet—a reality spotlight landing right on them—followed by a knowing, cruel chuckle that he was all too familiar with. Obviously startled, Hadley jolted away from him, but it was too late.
“Having some fun with the help, Will?” said Mia, his ex, a cold, close approximation to a smile curling her lips. “You know that’s something I would have overlooked.” She paused for dramatic effect, looking them both over with clinical detachment. “I’ll leave you to get straightened up.”
The door swung shut behind her.
He shoved his hands through his hair. Fuck. What had just happened? What had he done? Mia wouldn’t keep her mouth shut. This would be the amusing anecdote of the fundraiser told and retold over cocktails and coffee. He had to protect Hadley somehow.
“Hadley,” he said.
It took a second, but she turned toward him—her eyes wide with a what-the-fuck surprise and her fingers pressed to her kiss-swollen lips—and said, “Web.”
A slap to the face would have been less of a blow than hearing her say his identical twin brother’s name at that moment. The worst part being that it was a self-inflicted wound. He knew better. Of course Web would be her first thought. After all, it would be damn hard to scam a guy into falling in love so she could walk away with half his billions if she banged his brother.