Page 11 of Hard to Love

Everybody deserves to live a little outside of their comfort zone, so why is he challenging me while I’m trying to break outside of mine?

“It shouldn’t be this hard to get laid,” I mutter.

“Ah, but it should if it’s worth it.” He stands and throws some cash on the bar, as I stare at him with confused shock when he begins to walk away.

“Wait. What?” I sputter as his chuckle trails back to me before he turns.

“Are you coming?”

There’s a lift of his eyebrow that taunts and says those three words were chosen carefully.

STEVIE

THE NERVES HIT.

As they should for any normal person when she’s standing toward the back of an elevator, riding up to floor thirty-four with a man who can kiss her senseless and whose hand feels like it’s burning a hole into the small of her back where it rests.

He smiles and nods to passengers who are coming on and off the car while I stand there suddenly freaked out over how I let Vivi and Jordan talk me into this, and at the same time, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

Or is that the alcohol?

Regardless, we’re stepping off the elevator and Rhett is escorting me to his room without saying anything. There’s only the heat of his body behind me and the crackle of undeniable sexual tension between us.

I can understand it now. What Jordan and Vivi were talking about. The allure. The excitement. The . . . unknown.

He slides the key card into the lock. Once the lock clicks to green, he opens and shuts the door, escorting me into a room that’s decent but nowhere near what my penthouse looks like. There is paperwork and a laptop on the table near the window that gives a perfect view of the blinking lights on the strip and a suitcase standing unopened on the floor.

We walk a few feet into the room before he turns to me. There’s challenge in the look he gives me, almost as if he’s saying, “You got what you wanted, now what are you going to do about it?”

My heart is racing and my breath is coming fast. I know I could chicken out, walk out of the room, and just lie to Vivi and Jordan about it to save face . . . but I don’t want to. There’s nothing wrong with being more than attracted to a man and wanting to enjoy him in every possible way.

With a slow and steady deep breath, I step into Rhett and initiate the first kiss. I slide my hands up the plane of his chest, the crisp dress shirt cool beneath my palms, before sliding them around his neck and slanting my lips over his.

And so the kiss begins. It’s a slow dance of lips and tongue, of moans and contented sighs, of my body meeting his as he’s pressed against the wall, while his hands still at his sides. Whereas the first kiss downstairs was more of a challenge to test me, this one holds more restraint. It’s still erotic and sexy as hell the way his tongue dances with mine and how soft yet demanding his lips are, but he’s holding back.

He’s not touching me.

His hands are at his sides almost as if he’s letting me take the reins when it’s him I want guiding this, him I want controlling this.

I take a step back and break from the kiss. Our eyes meet and a small thrill shoots through me as I take in his lust-heavy eyelids and the impressive bulge pressing against the seam of his pants. His shoulders are rising up and down like mine are as we both try to catch our breath and process the turn this night has taken.

“This isn’t a game, Rhett,” I murmur as I reach out skim my fingernails over the fabric of his shirt. He watches me, the warmth of his breath hitting my skin, the shift of his gaze to my lips and then back up, sexy as hell. And that in and of itself, spurs me on. “I’m just a confident woman who finds you attractive.” I undo the first button. “Who wants you.” Another one is undone and it gives me a glimpse of a toned, tanned chest. Nerves give way to desire. “Who wants you to touch her.”

And there is something about those six words that are like striking a match. Because with them, Rhett has our position flipped in a heartbeat—me with my back against the wall and him with his body pressing me into it.

His hands move now.

They move in sync with his mouth on mine and then as if it’s not enough, he inches up my skirt, his firm fingertips against the softness of my thighs. He slides his hand beneath the lace of my panties and cups my bare ass as he grinds into the V of my thighs.

It’s a taunt. A tease. A temptation I want to give in to.

His mouth closes over my breast through the fabric of my tank top and I arch my back, pushing myself into him. The warm heat of his mouth is a sensation all in itself, but it’s his fingers finding purchase between my thighs that draws a low moan from me.

He matches my moan with a guttural groan of his own when he slips his fingers beneath my panties to find me warm, wet, and more than willing. I spread my feet farther apart to give him access to take control, as I welcome the onslaught of sensations.

Anything to make me feel something again.

Anything to make me forget everything for just a bit.