What Love Looks Like

She waggles her brows and giggles, and holy hell, I’m a goner.

“My parents. No contest. Hands down. They were all over each other growing up, and I walked in on them too many times to count. I’m scarred for life.” I visibly shiver. “It would be payback for sure.”

She throws her head back in a laugh, and my gaze goes straight to her slim neck, wanting to lick my way down her flesh so I can taste every inch of her.

“My turn.” I clear my throat. “Would you rather have one weekend of the best sex of your life or a lifetime of shitty sex?”

She sobers, looking thoughtful. “One weekend.”

I’m shocked by her words. “Really?”

“Yeah. Because if it’s shitty, it’s because we’re not connected on a deeper level. There’s no chemistry, no spark. I want the ripping clothes off because we can’t keep our hands and bodies to ourselves, mind-blowing, explosive sex. The kind of sex that leaves you out of breath and your body buzzing. The connection that grips the organ in your chest and tugs on your heartstrings, reminding you that you’re alive and life is for the taking. I would rather experience that kind of sex for only a weekend than never be given the chance to feel it at all.”

Her passionate words damn near knock the breath out of me. “Have you ever felt it?” I ask, leaning in closer to her.

She shakes her head. “Not yet. I’ve experienced the fumbling teenage sex, the I’m comfortable with you sex, the hate sex, the make-up sex, the awkward it’s not going anywhere sex, but never the explosive, chemistry-filled, life-altering sex.”

“That’s a lot of sex,” I joke.

She shrugs. “A lot of it was with the same guy.”

“If you’ve never experienced it, then how do you know it exists?”

She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she considers my question. “I guess I don’t know if it does,” she says thoughtfully. “But you asked which one I’d rather have.” She shrugs. “I’ll take a weekend of real over a lifetime of fake… because the fake, now that, I know firsthand.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

HUDSON

“Whew!” Sawyer breathes out, shaking her head as we both slam our shot glasses on the bar. “That’s some strong shit.” She giggles, I’m sure feeling the effects of the whiskey shots we’ve been shooting between dances. Letting loose has been the perfect nightcap for our date. When she mentioned after dinner that she wanted to go to the hotel bar where we first met, I was worried maybe she was having second thoughts about us spending the night together. But the way she’s been grinding her delectable body against mine as if we’re the only two people on the dance floor has me thinking she’s not doubting anything.

“Another one?” I raise my hand to call the bartender over, but Sawyer places her hand on mine.

“No, I think I’ve had enough.” Her heated gaze locks with mine. “Let’s go back to my room.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. Since the tab is linked to my room, I link our fingers together and pull her through the bar toward the exit. I don’t realize how fast I’m walking until she cracks up, tugging on my hand.

“I can’t walk that fast!” She laughs. “You’ve got like a foot on me.”

“Well, then, I’ll just have to help you.” I lift her over my shoulder, smacking her ass as I stalk through the hotel.

“Hudson!” she shrieks through her laughter. “Put me down, you big goof!” She swats at my ass, but I ignore her, continuing on my way, not giving a shit that everyone is probably looking at us. I blame it on the whiskey shots.

As I’m passing the resort store, Sawyer smacks my ass again. “Hudson, put me down. I need to go by the store.”

I stop in my place. “For what?”

“Just put me down,” she breathes.

I do as she says, and once she’s upright, her face flushed and her eyes shining with laughter, I can’t help but pull her into my arms and kiss the hell out of her. She moans into my mouth, and her arms snake around my neck. We kiss like this for several beats before she pulls back slightly.

“Do you have any condoms?” she whispers against my lips, making me stiffen in response.

“I…”

“I didn’t think so,” she says with a smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask as she drags her hands down my chest and stands on her tiptoes to kiss my jawline.

“It means, you mentioned you haven’t had sex in five years, so it would make sense you don’t have any condoms. And the fact that you don’t is a hell of a turn-on. Because that means you weren’t planning to get laid.” She kisses my pulse point, sucking softly on my flesh. “And since it’s been some time since I’ve had sex, I’m not on birth control, which means we need condoms.”