Page 112 of Stupid Matchmaking Love
“I know.”
I frown, pull back. “You know, and yet you’re bringing it up?”
He shrugs. “Just want to make sure you know I know.”
I roll my eyes. “Can you just kiss me already?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then Rhett bends down and kisses me until I’m floating, until I’m so heady I can’t think straight. I don’t know how long we stand there, but the kissing is so good I don’t want it to stop.
Every inch of me is alive: A trail of fire runs down my neck to my core, to my groin and even to my toes. I give a gentle tug, and Rhett follows me toward the bed.
When he’s standing right in front of it, I break off the kiss, take one look at him, and give him a gentle shove.
“Oh, that’s how it is,” he teases as his rear lands on the mattress.
“This is how it is.”
“I like a woman who takes control.”
“Something told me you might.” I work the buttons of his shirt from their loops, almost making a joke about Rhett being all about business even during a challenge. But I don’t. I pull back the fabric and suck in a breath. “No one told me I’d be in the presence of a god.”
“Do I need to remind you that you’ve seen this before.”
I shrug. “It’s been a while.”
Chest hair sprinkles his pecs, reminding me that Rhett isn’t just a man in temperament—he’s all man, all over.
I run my hand down to his pack of abs. The skin is so smooth. “It’s definitely been too long.”
“I take it you like.”
I lift a brow. “Me like very much.”
He laughs, shrugs all the way out of his shirt and cups my jaw with one hand. “I’ve liked you since the moment we met.”
“Me too,” I admit, my stomach flipping.
His dark eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. “Even though you hated me.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
He tugs me down and kisses me. “Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Really? Not when you went storming out and didn’t even sign up for the challenge?”
“That was on principle.”
“What principle?”
“The principle that you couldn’t know how much I liked you.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “See?”
“Can we please get back to what we were doing?”
