Page 10 of Hard to Love

“Old habits die hard, sweetheart.” He laughs and shakes his glass so the ice clinks against its sides. “Where were we again?”

My laugh is low and taunting, my bravado definitely back in place. The fingernail I draw up the center of his chest even more so as I entice him to only have eyes for me. “You’re interested all right. You can sit here and act like right now your cock isn’t begging you to say yes, but it is. Your mind’s still processing but your body is already in the elevator heading upstairs.”

Oh my God. Did I really just say that? Did those words actually come out of my mouth?

Yes. Yes, they did.

He lifts an eyebrow as a chuckle falls from between his sexy lips. “What if I said no?”

“Then you’d be a fool to pass this up,” I state matter-of-factly.

“Think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?”

I shrug unapologetically. “Lucky for you I do because you’re the only one who’s walked in here tonight that has had me looking twice.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.” He shifts in his chair so that his inner thighs rub against my outer ones. I refuse to admit to myself that the sudden hitch in my breath is in reaction to his touch.

“Does any of that really matter if, after the next few drinks, I’m going to ask you to take me up to your room?”

He gives a shake of his head and smirks as his eyes hold mine in a way that unnerves and turns me on all at once. And without pretext or preamble, Rhett slides a hand to the back of my neck and brings his mouth to mine.

He doesn’t coax my lips open with his tongue, but rather assumes I’ll open for him. He doesn’t ask, he just takes. With his lips and his tongue and the scrape of his stubble against my chin and with the dominant slide of his hand from my neck to my cheek.

He tastes of the whiskey he’s drinking and of desire that matches what’s thrumming through my veins. He’s not hurried in his kiss. It’s slow but demanding, soft but wanting, and has every nerve in my body standing at attention as I lift my hands and fist them around his biceps.

Now this? This is a kiss most definitely worth waiting for.

The sounds of the slot machines fade away. The chatter of those around us disappears. His kiss owns me in the best ways possible and hints (hopefully) at the thoroughness of other things he does just as well.

And before I can process that it’s over, Rhett breaks his lips from mine. Without a word, he sits back with a satisfied, smug smile curling up the corners of that tempting mouth of his.

I’m sitting here before him acting like I’m unaffected when in reality, I feel like I was just thoroughly knocked on my ass. A part of me hates that he doesn’t look how I feel—wanting more when I’m not a woman who gets weak in the knees.

But my knees are weak and the apex of my thighs ache with want.

Another round of drinks is slid before us but neither of us breaks from looking at one another to notice.

“You’ll do,” I finally murmur, assuming the words will challenge him to prove he can do better. That he’ll drop this game and show me just how much better he can do. And simply because my thoughts fell out of my mouth because I’m too flustered by his kiss to stop them.

“I’ll do?” He laughs.

“Yep. You passed.” I lean back in my seat, adjusting my one leg crossed over my other and subsequently rubbing it ever so slightly along the inseam of his pants.

His body stills, and I can assume his own instincts understand clearly that this is in fact a game I’m playing. Not one with Vivi and Jordan, but one between him and me. Who will cave first? Who will admit they want the other enough to make the first move out of this crowded casino?

“I wasn’t aware I was taking a test.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Everything is a test, is it not? Besides, if a man can kiss like that, then there’s a supposition he has other skills that are just as impressive too.”

I make the comment to get a reaction from him but he just sits there swirling his glass and watching the whiskey eddy around its insides. He purses his lips for a beat before his eyes lift to mine. “Do you really want this, Scarlett?”

His words have me faltering. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t be offended. You’re talking with such confidence but there’s a waver just beneath it—a flash of uncertainty—that tells me you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with what you’re trying to pull here.”

I despise that he sees through me this easily. That he sees the doubt and uncertainty that hums just beneath the desire. That he realizes as much as I’m trying to be this person, she’s not me, but rather I’m just trying on her shoes for the night. Just trying to step outside of the person I’m caged into being and live more than I’ve been allowed to.

And hell, if a well-deserved orgasm comes with the new shoes I’m trying on, then who am I to say no?