Page 49 of Playing Dirty
And maybe we both had.
Somewhere in the middle of it, an old memory slid in uninvited. A ballgame night, years ago. I’d been shivering under the stadium lights, the kind of cold that sank all the way to your bones.
Rhett had sat beside me, tugged me against him without asking, his jacket opening just enough to wrap me up in his heat. He’d looked down at me, eyes darker than they had any right to be under those lights, and leaned in like the game wasn’t even happening anymore.
Then I’d done the stupidest thing imaginable. I pulled back from the one person who mattered, convincing myself I wantedsomeone else instead. I had clung to that lie just long enough to give away the one thing I should’ve saved—my first time. And I handed it to a boy who didn’t care enough to stay, who disappeared before the first snowfall of winter, leaving me with nothing but regret and the echo of my own foolishness.
Now, with Rhett’s mouth on mine and his hand sliding to the back of my neck, the regret hit like a punch.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to search my face. “What is it?”
I swallowed, heat flooding my cheeks. “That night at the football game. I should’ve let you kiss me.”
His mouth curved, slow and dangerous. “Guess you’ll just have to make it up to me now.”
His hands moved lower, skimming over my waist, drawing me closer until my knees brushed his. My breath caught, my body answering before my mind could even think about stopping it.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to stop anything.
Rhett’s smile lingered like he already knew where this was headed. He kissed me again, slower this time, but with a kind of certainty that told me he wasn’t in any hurry. “Stay there,” he said, voice low enough to almost disappear under the sound of my pulse.
I watched him kick off his boots, strip out of his shirt in one easy move, then his jeans, without ceremony. By the time he was bare, I’d forgotten how to blink. I’d seen Rhett shirtless before—summertime at the lake, fixing fences in the heat—but not like this. Not with every inch of him in the soft light spilling from the kitchen, nothing between me and all of him except air, I suddenly couldn’t get enough of.
His body was a masterpiece of rugged masculinity, from the defined muscles of his chest to the happy trail of dark hairthat led downward to his swollen cock. It was a sight both intimidating and mesmerizing, a testament to his raw, untamed energy.
He crossed the room and crouched by the fireplace. A soft click of the switch, and the gas logs caught with a low whoosh. Flames curled around the ceramic wood, sending waves of heat across the room that found me where I sat. I should’ve been embarrassed for staring, but I wasn’t.
His body moved with the same easy confidence it always had, like he’d been carved out of work and weather, and knowing exactly who he was. I let my gaze roam, unhurried, memorizing every line and angle before I even thought about standing.
When I did, I took my time.
I slid out of my white work blouse, slowly and deliberately unbuttoning it. My pants and bra followed in a heap on the floor. His eyes tracked every movement, and that alone was almost as intoxicating as the wine still warming my veins. I let my hands drift up my stomach to my breasts, watching his expression darken as my fingers traced slow circles.
When I pinched my nipples between my fingers, the groan that escaped me wasn't planned, but the way his jaw clenched made it worth it. By the time I was down to nothing, the fire was crackling, and Rhett was still watching me like I was the only thing worth looking at.
I crossed the room toward him, the fire casting shadows over the rug, warming the air between us. My skin prickled from more than the heat—there was something about being completely bare under his gaze that made me feel both powerful and completely undone.
When I reached Rhett, his body brushed mine, making my knees feel unreliable. He didn’t touch me with his hands at first—just looked at me like he was letting years of wanting settle into place.
I tilted my chin up. “You want to know something?”
His mouth curved, though he didn’t answer right away. “Always.”
“I’ve thought about this before,” I admitted, voice low, heat rising to my face even though I didn’t look away. “About you. Your hands. Where they’d be.”
His eyes darkened, and I felt my pulse race harder.
“I… imagined,” I went on, the words tumbling out now that I’d started. “What it would feel like with you touching me. But—” I swallowed, pressing my lips together for a second before I finished. “It’s never even come close to what I know it would feel like to actually have you inside me.”
For a beat, he just stared, like he was committing every word to memory. Then he leaned down, his breath hot against my ear.
“You’ll have to wait for that,” he murmured.
I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “Wait?”
He smiled as his hands settled on my hips. “Because I’ve been wanting to know how you taste since before I even knew what to do about it. And tonight, I’m starting there.”
My breath caught. “Rhett?—”
