Made for You (The Best Mistake 2)

She made a face and turned to stare out the window, even as her fingers itched to explore the faint throbbing of her hip. It didn’t hurt as much as she’d expected. Probably because it was so fatty. But she was dying of curiosity.

“You’re really not going to tell me what it is?” she asked, turning to study his profile.

“That was the deal. You want me to stick with you, hold your hand, and not tell your mom, you had to let me pick, and you have to see it for yourself.”

“This is quite possibly the most nuts thing I’ve ever done. I let a guy who’s dedicated his life to torturing me mark me for life.” She whipped her head around again to study him more closely. “Oh God, it’s not like a picture of your face, is it? Or your name?”

His mouth turned up in the tiniest of smiles. “Now, would that be so bad?”

“Yes! Yes it would be so bad! To spend the rest of my days forever reminded of my biggest mistakes?”

Will glanced at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road, and she felt a little jolt of surprise at the unreadable expression on his face. She’d expected a retort. Maybe a put-down. But instead he’d looked…wounded?

Naaaahhhh.

He knew full well what they had. Ridiculous sexual chemistry and the long-term compatibility of a Bengal tiger and a canary.

“It’s not a canary, is it?” Brynn blurted out. “The tattoo?”

Will rolled his eyes. “You are so weird.”

“At least give me a hint—”

Will held up a hand as he stopped at a red light before the freeway on ramp. “No more tattoo talk for the next two hours.”

“But—”

“No. Just because you’re in this weird wild-child mode is no reason you need to have the patience of a four-year-old at church. Trust me, that tattoo will be there in two hours.”

“It’ll be there a hell of a lot longer than that,” Brynn muttered darkly.

“Regrets already?”

“Hard to say since I don’t know what it is. I mean if you’ve slapped a pair of hairy testicles on my hip bone, I’m sure as hell going to have some regrets. But the experience itself? The decision? It feels…liberating, ya know?”

“Sure, I know. But I’m surprised you do. You went from country-club prude to inked-up hooker so fast I’m getting whiplash.”

“Yeah, well, getting dumped will do that to you. Hey, you’re going the wrong way. You’re headed into the city.”

“Am I?” he asked, looking totally unperturbed.

She narrowed her eyes at his too-casual tone. “Where are we going?”

“Just thought it might be nice to get your mind off your tattoo for the next couple hours.”

Or until I can get to a bathroom and see what we’re dealing with, she mentally amended.

“Fine. So what’s your plan? I don’t want something I’ve done before, I want something—”

“I know. You want to rob a bank or learn how to throw knives, but how about we start small? You already let me brand you, how about you take the rest of the day in baby steps and just relish playing hooky on a weekday?”

Brynn frowned. “But I’ve already been playing hooky for a week.”

Will snorted. “Yeah, I’ve seen the way you play hooky. You apply all that black stuff on your eyelids like you’re going daytime clubbing, and then go garden. You wiggle into leather pants to get the mail. You get a tattoo and then want to get a freaking butterfly. Oh, and let’s not forget…you ask a guy to be a fling, and then don’t so much as move to kiss him.”

Whaaaaaaa…Talk about crossed wires.

Brynn’s mouth dropped open. “I kissed you first that night! And for the record, it was you who threw me out.”