Page 12 of Betting on her Best Friend
“It was the only way I could get in to stop you from making a huge mistake.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“The kind where you sleep with a total stranger,” he said between clenched teeth.
“It’s not like I’m picking up some guy at a dive bar in a seedy part of town,” she hissed. “Come on, Dylan, you know me better than that. I’m not one to throw caution to the wind. I don’t even jaywalk, for chrissake.”
His rigid stance finally broke. He braced one hand on the wall next to her head and leaned in, his eyes intense. “Still don’t like the idea of you throwing yourself at some guy just because you have certain…needs.”
The heat of indignation spread from her toes to the roots of her hair faster than a brush fire. Digging her nails into her palms, she forced herself to remain calm. “Oh, I see,” she bit off. “And just who do you suggest I get to attend my ‘needs,’ hmm? You?”
“Yes.”
“See, even you won’t—” His response hurtled into her brain a little late but still hit her with the force of a cannonball to the chest. She shook her head. No way. She’d heard him wrong. Her subconscious was projecting answers that would quell her out-of-control, starved-for-action libido. “You said ‘no,’ right?”
“No.”
“No, you said yes? Or no, as in—”
“Alyssa.” Dylan gripped her shoulders and stepped in close. She tried to retreat, at least a little to increase her oxygen intake, as he seemed to be stealing every last molecule between them, but her body was already wedged into the corner.
There was nothing to do but wait for him to confirm whether he’d propositioned they have sex, although something told her she’d heard him right the first time. Which begged the question, what did she plan to do about it?
