Wrecking Ball (Hard to Love 1)

Are you awake? I’m outside.

Am I awake? I may never sleep ever again. I text back immediately.

I’ll be down in a sec.

After throwing on a tank top and lounge pants, I grab my flip-flops and creep downstairs. I have no idea what to expect or what I’ll say, but at the moment a driving need to see him lays waste to everything else. Through the glass of the front door, I spot him. Hair disheveled, a week’s worth of stubble covering the bottom half of his face––and still the most gorgeous creature on the face of this planet. The dark circles hanging under his eyes are the mirror image of mine.

When I open the front door, the look of relief that comes over him makes my heart swell to the point of pain. I love this man. It’s just an endless supply of love on tap. There’s absolutely no danger of me ever running out of it.

He takes his hands out of the pockets of his track pants and grabs me like I have no choice. Wrapping those long, skilled fingers around my biceps, he pulls me into his body. Top to bottom, there isn’t any part of us that isn’t touching. I encircle my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest. He holds me so tightly for a minute I fear it may be my last breath.

Exhaling heavily, he murmurs, “Goddamn this feels good.”

I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. Breathe in, breathe out.

His fingers sift through my loose hair, his lips rest on the top of my head. He grips the roots possessively and tugs. I’m forced to look up at him, and holy hell if I don’t get instantly turned on. His expression is a fairly even mix of devastation and determination.

“You’re killin’ me.”

“I don’t mean to. If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t slept a single night since I moved out.”

“I don’t want you not sleeping. I want you sleeping next to me.”

Fuck, I’m going to cry. Eyes brimming with yet unshed tears, I go for honesty––it’s all I have left. “Do you think this is easy for me? It’s frigging impossible.” I try and put some space between us but he won’t allow it, tightening his grip on me even more. “Why are you here, Cal?”

“Brought you something.”

“You brought me something?” Okay, now I’m confused. I don’t have time to mull this over, though. Taking my hand hostage, he drags me over to the Range Rover. Once he’s got the passenger side door open, he picks me up by the waist and places me in the seat––literally picks me up. Then he leans in, pushing his hips in between my bent legs, grabs my face, and kisses me.

We’re all lips and tongues, licking, sucking, devouring each other as if it may be the last time and all I keep thinking is, ‘Please don’t let this be the last time. I’ll be good, God, I swear, just don’t take him away from me.’

We break apart panting and he closes the door. Then he gets in on the driver’s side. The atmosphere is crackling with pent up sexual tension. Neither one of us moves a hair. And then I turn to look at him. Smokey gray locks onto simple brown and not even the army of the devil himself can stop us.

We dive at each other. I grab his t-shirt, yank and yank until he helps me peel it off of him. He takes my tank top and has it over my head before I even know what’s what. Not for a second have we stopped kissing. I’m eating his face. Seriously, he may not have a face once we’re done; I’m going Hannibal Lector on his ass. As a matter of fact, I may not have one either because his scruff feels like I’m cleaning my cheeks with steel wool. Until his big warm hand covers my breast and pinches my nipple. Then all thought ceases and only sensation exists.

God almighty this man knows how to push all the right buttons. When the warmth of his palm leaves my breast, I whimper. Not for long. Not for long, thank heavens, because he grabs me around the waist and pulls me onto his lap. Without objection, I swing my leg over and straddle him, our groins coming together suddenly. His dick, so hard I’m afraid it may cause him permanent injury, pushes up against me and I have to scream from the wanting, from the overwhelming hunger I have for him. I swear I’m ten seconds from going mental from it. Reaching down between us, I stroke him over his pants and feel a wet stain. I dig my short nails into the swollen head of his erection, scratch lightly over the slippery fabric, and he sucks in a sharp breath.