Will braced his arm on the doorjamb as though barring her entrance.
Not exactly a welcoming start, Brynn thought with a pang.
Then his hand slid up several inches as he lifted his eyebrows in invitation, leaving just enough room for her to slide under his arm if she wanted to.
She wanted to.
Swallowing dryly, she ducked under his arm so she was standing in his foyer. He closed the door with a quiet click, and they still said nothing.
She studied Will closely, waiting for smugness or mockery, but his face was carefully blank.
“I um…I just thought I’d stop by. You know, to say hi, and stuff,” she said, her voice husky.
His eyebrow quirked at the mention of “stuff,” but instead of giving her a hard time, he just nodded and gestured toward the kitchen. “Let me get you a glass of wine.”
“Oh gosh, no. I’ve had plenty,” she said, following him into the kitchen.
He paused in opening the fridge. “You’re drunk?” Something like disappointment flashed across his face.
“No, just a little buzzy. And getting less so by the minute.”
“Coming from a not-so-great date?” he asked, pouring her a glass of ice water.
“No, just a girls’ night.” She lowered herself onto the leather bar stool and fixed her eyes on her glass as he poured himself some sort of amber-looking liquid.
“And you came by to say hi,” he said, taking a long swallow of his drink.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, tracing a drip of condensation down the side of her glass.
The wine buzz was fading, but the recklessness wasn’t.
Her mind kept returning to The Kiss from the car. It had been running over and over through her brain like a track on repeat. And the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to do it again. Take it further.
But not like this. He was supposed to be his usual crude self. She wanted hot, meaningless anger sex. Something she could walk away from without so much as a bruise on her emotions.
This quiet, contemplative Will set her on edge. She didn’t know how to speak with him in any language other than “feud.”
Why didn’t he call her bony or snobby or vapid and set her temper off so that she could storm out? Storming out was immature, but smart. Practical. Necessary. Storming out was very Brynn.
And that was the problem. She was sick of herself. She wanted a break from being the organized, uptight, no-sex-before-the-eighth-date goody-goody.
Who better to give her a night’s vacation from perfect than a man who spent more on condoms in a year than he did on food?
Brynn shook her head to try and clear it. She was making herself dizzy with all of this waffling. Either she wanted to jump his crass bones, or she didn’t. Make up your mind.
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 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.