Wrecking Ball (Hard to Love 1)

Placing a hand behind his head, he stares up at the ceiling. “I already told you.” His answer only confuses me more. I scan his face to get a better read on him. “When I saw you that day, staring back at me with those big brown eyes––you hit me like a wrecking ball…I panicked.”

What code are we speaking in? “I don’t get it.”

“I’ve felt that way only one other time in my life,” he confesses. Those expressive gray eyes meet mine and it dawns on me.

“With your ex,” I finish for him. He answers with a small nod. His admission feels about as good as someone scratching my corneas. “I’m not Kim,” I groan. Is this not clear enough? I roll over, off of him, and his body follows mine. He wraps his arms around me and presses closer. His chest blankets my back, my rear end wedged against his groin. Not a breath of air separates us.

“I know you’re not,” he murmurs in my ear, seducing me out of my now sour mood with his skilled fingers between my legs. Rolling his hips, he makes me feel how hard he is for me, how much he wants me again. “You wouldn’t force me to accept something I don’t want any part of,” he murmurs with this mouth latched onto the sensitive skin of my throat.

Yup, there it is––the insurmountable wall that’s standing in our way. I knew this about him. Of course, I knew this. But it was a nonissue until this very moment. He was my friend, the man I was reluctantly in love with. Not my lover. Not my lover. I sit up abruptly and cover my breasts with the edge of the sheet like I’m a virgin in a Victorian melodrama.

“What’s wrong?” the caveman next to me asks while he rips the sheet off. His big hand strokes up and down my spine. Feeels sooo good. I almost forget why I’m upset. What do I say? ‘Thanks for the best sex of my life. I love you beyond measure, but you don’t want kids so sayonara.’

“Cam?”

I know what I have to do and it kills me, it absolutely kills me. Because while I’m explaining, I know he’ll be thinking about his ex-wife.

“This was a mistake.” Those words are razor blades leaving my mouth. Over my shoulder, I chance a glance at his face. It’s like a sheet of ice has crystalized over him. He just stares at me like he’s seen a ghost.

“Why?” he says an eternity later. I’m dying inside by slow inches. He’s the last person on the planet I want to hurt, and yet I know this is going to hurt both of us.

“I don’t do casual sex. You know that.”

“Who said anything about casual?”

I need to be dressed for this. I’m out of bed and walking down the hall to my room a second later. He’s on me before I reach my door, hugging me from behind and kissing my neck. I don’t fight him. I let him hold me until he relaxes his grip because I don’t want him to think I’m doing this out of anger, or regret. That’s the thing––I don’t regret it. I just can’t continue any further. If I stop this now, I may be able to salvage our friendship. That’s the best I can hope for now.

“Let me throw on some clothes and we can talk.”

Releasing me, he follows me into my bedroom. Mr. Modesty lounges naked on my bed like he doesn’t have a care in the world while I throw on a tank top and leggings. He’s propped up on an elbow, his long legs crossed at the ankles. My eyes do a slow glide from his perfect dick, thick and soft and long, asleep on his thigh, to his heavy lidded gray gaze. He’s unequivocally the sexiest man on the planet. Period. Full stop.

His expression is warm and affectionate again, a naughty smirk playing on his lips. I know what it means; he thinks he can change my mind. Not this time, though. This time I won’t fold and I can’t compromise. It wouldn’t be fair to either one of us.

“This isn’t casual, Cam. You know me better than that.”

I do. I definitely do.

“I know…but the thing is––” By the look on his face, I know he’s getting ready to argue. “The thing is…I want kids. I can’t be with you if there isn’t even the slightest chance of you not changing your mind. And I know you won’t. You’ve said so often enough.” The silence drags on. I can’t look at him. I’m afraid of what I’ll find. Anger. Contempt. Or worse, his indifference.

He exhales a deep breath and sits up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. With his back to me, he says, “You’re right, I won’t change my mind.”