Made for You (The Best Mistake 2)

But she was smart enough to know that every one of her wiggles rubbed her ridiculously tight ass against his erection. Other than her heaving breath, she lay perfectly still.

“We’re making a scene,” she said under her breath. Will almost smiled. She was curled up on a mattress with her worst enemy and she was worried about making a scene.

He rolled onto his back, but not before he’d clamped his hand around her wrist so she couldn’t wiggle away. “Now tell me honestly, what do you think about this mattress?”

She was still for several seconds before she rolled onto her back next to him. “I want a whole bottle of wine, Will.”

Victory.

“Fine.”

“And their baked brie plate.”

He smiled. “You got it.”

“And there’s this salad…”

“No, no salads,” he said, unable to stop himself from rubbing his fingertips against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist.

She hissed in a breath. “Well, if I get the rich cheese dish, I have to get the salad.”

“Says who?”

“My thighs,” she said primly.

“Honey, I’ve seen your thighs. They don’t care whether you have the salad or the cheese or the Goddamn crème brûlée.”

Brynn loved crème brûlée. Not that she would ever admit it.

“I guess I could do an extra session of yoga tomorrow.”

He snorted. “Yoga? You?”

She rolled her head to the side to scowl at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno, it just doesn’t really seem like you. Doesn’t that require patience?”

He felt her eyes studying his profile, and it took everything in him to not turn toward her and meet her eyes. And then to roll on top of her and kiss every cheese-loving, yoga-hating bit of her.

“I don’t really like yoga,” she admitted finally. She sounded surprised, although he didn’t know if it was surprise at the realization or surprise that he’d been the one to note it. She’d never exactly been one to know herself.

“So it’s decided. Cheese, no salad?”

This time he did turn his face toward hers, putting their lips just inches apart.

Will waited for her to whip her head away from his in panic, but she surprised him, remaining perfectly still except for the wary eyes that searched his face.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.

“Making you skip the boring salad?”

“Everything. The next-door-neighbor thing. The out-of-coffee ploy. The furniture shopping. And now dinner?”

He locked his eyes on hers, telling her the truth for the first time in a long time. “Don’t you ever get tired of fighting, Brynny?”

He kept his tone light, but she must have read the intensity in his gaze because her blue eyes went slightly wide. “Do you?”

I don’t mind the squabbling. I just want more.