Page 66 of Hard to Hold

“What happ—”

I press my finger to his lips moments before shifting so my lips can replace it. He stills for a beat when our lips meet, and as I use my tongue to coax his mouth to part.

There’s hesitation.

“What are we doing here, Nox?” he murmurs against my lips.

A tenderness we’ve yet to experience, but that is so very welcome, especially when he uses his nickname I only hear when we’re alone.

“I’m kissing you.” I slip my tongue between his lips again.

“I thought there were rules.”

Another touch of lips. A soft groan when I gently tug on his lips before I lean back to answer him.

“There are.”

“You’re breaking them.”

His eyes darken as we stare at each other, our breaths feathering one another.

“I’m taking lessons from you.”

And this time when I kiss him, I don’t stop. I revel in the moment. In him. In needing this human connection with a man I know will make me feel good. A man who won’t be able to hurt me.

We both know this will go nowhere.

We both have lives to return to in a matter of weeks. So despite the warnings I’ve given, the promises I’ve made to myself, I act on that ache deep within—both physically and emotionally—to be connected with someone when I feel so very untethered from everything else.

He breaks from the kiss and when he studies me, I wonder what he sees. The inadequate agent trying to do right by her family or the hardheaded agent who’s trying to make a place for herself in a world where nothing is as it seems? Or the woman who’s trying to do both while carving a little piece of life for herself in the midst of it?

“You haven’t asked to be my agent,” he whispers.

“Presently, I have more things on my mind than who’s negotiating your contracts.”

“Like?”

“Like kissing you.” I lean down and tease his lips.

“Oh,” he says, and I smother the sound with my kiss.

His hand reaches up to the back of my neck to pull me closer, yet he lets me take the lead on this. My action creates his reaction. My sigh is only accented by his soft groan.

And so we kiss. Our tongues meet and flutter over one another’s. Our hands roam gently over one another despite our awkward positioning.

But there’s an intimacy to the kiss, a longing sated. The hunger is still there between us, the dire lust, but the urgency we’ve typically exhibited is on hold while we connect in the simplest of ways.

My body heats from his touch. My mind goes blank, save for allowing me to appreciate and savor this rare moment of tenderness from a man who’s all about action and distraction.

The best part about it all is that he makes no move to take more. He allows me to take what I want and not hurry whatever this is along.

Sure we’ve had sex before, but there’s something about this moment, about each meeting of our lips and sigh of contentment that fills some part of me I wasn’t sure was missing or needed until now.

I really like kissing this man.

The front door slams and while I jolt back into a seated position, Rush stays right where he is, groans dramatically, his dick flying full mast against his sweats.

“Seriously, Johnny?” he says as keys jingle and footsteps fall on the floor. “Can’t a man snog a woman and not be interrupted by the other man who owns the damn house he’s letting them stay in?”