Page 67 of Hard to Love

She waits until we’re both done before rolling off me and falling onto her back on the floor beside me with a thump and laughter.

“Mark off sex on a rug on the Cards O’ Fun,” she says with a giggle.

“Cards O’ Fun?”

She sighs and I’d like to think it’s from satisfaction, but the mischievous look in her eyes says differently. “It was a game that Vivi and Jordan made up . . .” She goes on to explain about the game. Dares and them giving her a chance to live it up. A competition she refused to lose.

And how it led her to me that first night.

“You’re not saying anything,” she says and pokes me in the ribs.

“Nothing to say. You were struggling with the loss of your father. Your friends were trying to pick you up. The antics and bad press that ensued may not have been the best route to take, but it is what it is. End of story.” And thank God it was me they chose that night, or I’d have to kick some random guy’s ass for touching her.

I shrug the thought away, distracted by her fingers still on my skin, as her comment comes back to me.

“Sex on the rug?” I ask.

“Yep. We had sex on the table. Now it’s on the rug. I’m not very experienced, Finn, so I’ve got to note all these important firsts.”

Her honesty strips me bare in the best and most surprising ways. It’s not like we’ve talked about our past sex lives but for her to be inexperienced and be as secure in her sexuality as she is . . . it’s a damn fucking turn-on.

“Important firsts will be noted from now on.” I laugh.

“As they should be.” She sighs. “I guess the bikini worked.”

I start laughing. How can I not? I was blatantly and willingly seduced by a yellow bikini and an irresistible woman.

What has this world come to?

“I thought I was supposed to be the one fucking you hard and fast, though?” I ask, needing to say something, anything, to explain why that felt like way more than mindless fucking.

“You’ll get your turn, Sanderson.”

“Ah yes, the desk fantasy.”

It’s her turn to laugh.

It’s my turn to hope.

STEVIE

THE NIGHT BREEZE IS COOL against my skin.

Finn’s body is warm as I snuggle into him. My nose is under the curve of his jaw and I find an odd comfort in the scrape of his stubble every time his chest rises and falls.

His arms tighten around me, his breath even in my ear, and I relish the relaxing sounds of the ocean muted through the closed slider door.

I wake with a start, disoriented, and then flustered to look over and see that I’m not really in Finn’s arms but more or less lying on the chaise section of the couch while he’s sprawled out on the long side of it.

It all comes back to me now. The yellow bikini. The incredible sex. The things I said that now I’m blushing about. And the collapsing on the couch afterward where we talked about nothing of importance until we fell asleep—an easy way for us to avoid the awkward I’m going to my bedroom and you’re going to your bedroom thing.

So, we lay on the couches, talking about anything and everything that was inconsequential until I fell asleep.

I turn to look at Finn and a small part of me sighs. The part that liked the feeling of my dream. The lying there together when I’ve never really slept with someone after sex, the feel of his heartbeat beneath my cheek, the subtle scent of the cologne on his skin.

It was just sex, Stevie. Just a dream. Stop your sleep-drugged thoughts about how nice it would be to wake up in his arms. The ones you were snuggling into a dream to. Go to your own bed.

I push myself up from the couch, my muscles sore from both practice and the rolling around on the floor with him, but then stop and study Finn.