Made for You (The Best Mistake 2)

And then the most disturbing thought of all hit her. What if he didn’t want her?

She’d taken for granted that he was a womanizer, but for all her complaining about him going through women faster than a toddler went through Cheerios, he’d never made a move on her. Not in high school, when they’d run in the same social circles. Not in college, when he’d practically lived at her house over Christmas break. And certainly not in their adult life, when their once-harmless bickering had turned into very real dislike.

Not until that rainy night in his car, and she still wasn’t sure that the kiss hadn’t been more about punishing her than passion.

The thought of being rejected by Will was almost enough to bring back the practical, self-preserving Brynn. And yet still she didn’t move.

Just do it. You have the rest of your life to be boring.

Brynn set aside her untouched water glass and stood.

Keeping her eyes locked on his moody blue gaze, she slowly made her way around his kitchen island. She continued her slow approach until there were only inches between them. Still he didn’t move or speak.

Brynn let her eyes move over him the way she’d seen him check out women a thousand times before. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt, jeans, and a scowl. He looked like every woman’s bad-boy fantasy. Perfect.

Licking her lips nervously, she pulled the glass from his hand and set it on the counter. She felt a little thrill of gratification when something dark and dangerous flashed through his normally bored eyes.

She hesitantly ran her manicured fingernails lightly over his rib cage, closing her eyes in ecstatic panic when she heard him suck in a sharp breath.

Rough fingers clamped around her wrist. “Brynn, wait—”

No! Desperate to stop him from thinking this through, she rose to her toes and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, just the merest brush of her lips against his. But still, she shuddered. He tasted warm and smoky and strangely addicting.

She kissed him again, lingering this time. His lips moved just slightly beneath hers. Not quite returning the kiss, but not pulling back either.

He’s letting me decide, she realized. Whatever she was feeling was nothing like the manic passion of the car, and that alarmed her. This kiss was softer. Nic

er.

And every instinct was screaming that “soft” with William Thatcher was dangerous. “Soft” wasn’t what she was here for. She wanted hot, animalistic sex on the floor of his bachelor pad, not soft, heady kisses in his homey kitchen.

Determined to banish all traces of tenderness, Brynn wound her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to her. Her lips were firmer this time, and she nipped at his bottom lip. He stiffened, and for a fraction of a second she had the horrible sensation that he was going to pull pack. Push her away.

He doesn’t want me, she realized in horror.

Then Will moved so quickly that she nearly lost her balance. Sliding one arm around her back, he hoisted her onto the kitchen counter, even as his other hand slid around the back of her head.

She closed her eyes and waited for the crush of his lips, but his fingers clenched in her hair and held her still. His eyes had gone so dark they were almost black, and he stared into hers with an unreadable expression.

“You’ll hate me if we do this,” he said gruffly.

“I already hate you.”

“Then why are you here?”

She almost laughed at that. She had her legs around his waist and he had to ask? “Isn’t that kind of obvious?”

“Just sex?”

“Yes. And just this one time. And, Will…if you tell anyone about this, I will kill you.”

His head tilted back slightly, and something unidentifiable flashed across his face before he resumed his usual bored expression.

“Well, if it’s one-time sex you want, you’ve come to the right place,” he said with an evil little grin.

Then his mouth closed over hers, and she resigned herself to the inevitable.

She was going to become one of William Thatcher’s women.