Page 65 of Hard to Love

My patio is huge, but all of a sudden it feels like it’s shrinking with Stevie and me on a collision course somewhere in the middle.

I’m more than certain I can handle the impact.

I’m not so certain I’d be able to handle the aftermath.

“How were your cherries?” she asks, that smirk turning lopsided as she turns to face me, her elbows tucked behind her on the railing, the whole of her body on full display. “Should I be jealous that Faith knows your favorite things and I don’t?”

I twist my lips and shake my head. “I have a lot of favorite things.”

“Like?”

“Like good cherries, a great underdog story, carrot cake with homemade cream cheese frosting . . .” I purse my lips as I think of what else I like. “A good glass of whiskey, negotiating a great contract for a deserving client, and warm summer nights on this patio right here.”

“I didn’t expect a few of those.”

“Like?” I step up to the railing beside her but keep a few feet between us for my own sanity’s sake. The last thing I need is to smell that subtle scent she wears or to have her arm brush against mine when I’ve yet to decide what I want to do here.

My cock definitely knows what it wants, but I’m trying to be smart here. I’m trying to figure out my own confused head—the one above my shoulders—before I complicate things more.

“Like carrot cake.”

I chuckle. “Never underestimate what a lot of sugar can do to something.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She takes a step toward me, and I swear my breath hitches like a teenage schoolboy anticipating his first kiss. It’s ridiculous. It’s awesome. “Finn?”

“Hmm?” I ask as my eyes dart down to her mouth before I lean forward and frame her face in my hands. “This is going to be a bad idea.”

“Sometimes those are the best kinds of ideas,” she murmurs just as my lips meet hers.

It starts out as a soft sigh of a kiss, almost as if it’s going to take us a minute to reacquaint our lips and tongues—even though the last time I kissed her has replayed through my head way too much.

But it’s way better than memory serves. Her taste. Her touch. The soft sound she makes in the back of her throat.

Christ Almighty, this woman is a drug.

I think one more kiss will be enough but then my hands are on her and it becomes one more touch. One more taste. One more fucking everything until I’m drowning in her.

But I don’t care because it feels like we’ve been doing a slow dance of seduction for weeks and goddamn, I’m ready to get pulled under.

“Finn,” she moans against my lips when my fingers hook her suit to the side and find her slick with desire. “Just fucking take me already, will you?”

I don’t need any other words to spur me on.

My laugh is muffled by her kiss.

“You walk around this house in your dress shirts or board shorts—both do things to me I’m not proud of, Sanderson—so you better be the one to start doing me.”

“What things?” I tuck my fingers into her as she gasps and digs her nails into my shoulders. “Dirty things? Please tell me it’s dirty things.”

Her laugh is part moan, part chuckle as my mouth closes over hers again. “So, so dirty.” She lowers herself to her knees, and I groan in anticipation as her hands free my cock from my shorts. She kisses the tip of my head, and it jerks in reflex. “You’re in that fancy office of yours on a call with a client when I walk in. Naked.” Her lips close around me and the warm, wet heat of her mouth is like fucking heaven, hell, and everything in between.

“That’s a good start.”

“You fist a hand in the back of my hair and bend me over the desk so that I’m spread wide for you to see. And then you fuck me from behind.” She lowers her lips over the length of my shaft, each inch disappearing into her mouth until I feel it hit the back of her throat. She lets it sit there for a moment, allowing me to enjoy the sensation until she comes back off it with a loud popping sound when the suction breaks.

“That can be arranged,” I pant. Her words are seductive, but I’m finding it hard to concentrate on them while absorbing every fucking ounce of pleasure her mouth is offering.

“And while you’re doing that and talking to your client, almost growling low in your throat, I’m busy rubbing my clit just like I’m doing now.”