Rhett takes me home in his fancy sports car, zipping down the streets, passing the late-evening traffic with ease. The satellite radio is on low and I remain quiet, my head filled with thoughts of the movie, of what I’m doing, of what I’m going to do. He makes light conversation and I respond to him as casually as possible, hoping he doesn’t catch the tremor in my voice that’s been brought on by nerves.

Watching that movie threw me. Spending time with Rhett and actually liking him threw me even harder.

We make it to my house in what feels like record time, and he walks me to the front door like the gentleman that he is. “I had fun tonight,” I tell him, pulling my keys out of my purse as we approach the door.

“I did too,” he agrees, shifting closer to me. So close I can feel his breath on my cheek. I turn to find him invading my personal space, not that I’m protesting. I tilt my head back so I can meet his gaze and he smiles at me. It’s an intimate smile, not the shark teeth he flashes at the pretty girls in the bar. This one is just for me, and witnessing it makes everything inside me go liquid. “Even though that movie was a trip.”

My stomach sinks and slowly starts to churn. “You didn’t like it?”

“Oh, it was entertaining, but that chick scared me.” Rhett shakes his head. “She was hell-bent on ruining that guy.”

“You didn’t think it was deserved? He did kill her husband, and the justice system let him get away with it,” I point out.

He tilts his head to the side, contemplating me. “True, but still. She was way over the top. Why not just take him out and be done with it? Why did she have to destroy everyone else in his life too?”

I’m compelled to explain her feelings and what drove her, not that he cares. I guess I do. Too much. “Because it hurts to see the ones you love suffer. If you’re gone, then it’s over. But if someone takes away the ones who matter to you, you’re in pain for the rest of your life.” Oh, it sounds so logical when I explain it that way. Simple.

Nothing in life is simple, though. I’m complicating everything right now just having this conversation with him. My sworn enemy. My stepbrother.

It’s all so weird and twisted. I feel like I’m living in a Lifetime movie.

“You’ve been thinking a lot about this, haven’t you?” Rhett’s amused. He wouldn’t be if he knew I was planning the same sort of thing.

“Maybe,” I say with a careless smile.

Without warning he moves in on me, so I have no choice but to back up until my butt hits the front door. “You are unlike any girl I’ve ever gone out with before,” he murmurs as he reaches out and drifts his fingers across my cheek.

“What do you mean?” I’m breathless, and no guy has left me breathless before. The warm glow in his eyes as he studies me is making my heart beat faster, and I feel like I could practically jump out of my skin as I wait for his answer.

“It sounds so cliché,” he admits. Oh, I am living the cliché dream, so I mentally tell him to go for it. “But you’re—different.”

“Why? Because I don’t chase after you? I’m not one of your adoring fans who surrounds you at the bars?” Um, I probably shouldn’t have said that.

He chuckles, and his fingers move to my hair, threading in the strands, tucking some of them behind my ear. “That’s exactly it. I sound like an asshole, but they all chase after me.” He hesitates. “Except you.”

“Doesn’t the guy prefer to chase?” Yes, yes, I read that in a magazine article too. Men prefer the chase. They don’t want to be chased. It’s flattering at first, but then the challenge is gone. And that has always been my goal. To be a challenge.

The code he can’t crack, remember?

“Most definitely,” he murmurs as he leans his head in, his mouth hovering closer. Closer…

Oh God. He’s going to kiss me again. I can sense it. Usually I prepare to be spectacularly underwhelmed, but this time, I lock my knees to keep them from wobbling and inhale on a shaky breath, my eyes fluttering closed. Anticipation courses through my veins, making my skin prickle with awareness, and then his mouth is on mine. A gentle press of skin on skin, and like the weakling I never knew I could be, I immediately part my lips, inviting him in.

A jolt courses through him, I can feel it. Like I surprised him in the best possible way. He takes my open invitation, his tongue licking along my lips, a damp tease that makes me gasp. One large hand cups the back of my head while the other one wraps around my waist as he pulls me flush against his hard body, and I go willingly. He completely takes over the kiss, his tongue circling mine, his arm tight around my waist, his fingers stroking my hair. I reach for him, sliding my hands up his broad chest, circling my arms around his neck. He’s solid and warm, his mouth hungry on mine as he presses me into the front door.

I rip my mouth from his to stare up at him, and he looks just as shocked as I feel. His damp and swollen lips are parted, his eyes wide as he studies me. Our ragged breaths mingle, the only sound in the otherwise quiet night, and I blink up at him, unsure of what to say or do next.

“Can I come inside?” He phrases it as a question but I see the determination in his gaze. He wants to come inside and he really doesn’t want me to say no.

Slowly I nod and he loosens his grip on me so I can turn and unlock the door. I do so with shaky hands, getting the key into the lock nearly impossible until I take a steadying breath and tell myself to get a grip.

The door finally opens and then we’re both stumbling inside, Rhett kicking the door shut before he spins me around and I’m wrapped up in his arms, my back against the door. His kisses are hungrier, his searching tongue thorough, his hands everywhere. I’m just as greedy, my purse slipping from my fingers and falling onto the floor with a loud thud as I reach for him. He groans when I smooth my hands over his chest, this low, primal sound that makes my insides quiver.

He wants me. I can feel it in the way he touches me, kisses me. He’s not just kissing for kissing’s sake, he’s tasting me. Savoring me. His hands aren’t rough and groping like every other boy I’ve been with. No, he touches me with purpose, like he can’t get enough and he wants to make sure I like it too.

We kiss for what feels like hours but is only minutes. My hair is a mess from his hands, my body shaking, and when he slides those big hands of his to my butt and lifts, I go with him, wrapping my legs around his waist, digging my ankles into his backside. He has me braced against the door, our lower bodies pressed together, his hands still gripping my ass. Oh God, the pleasure courses through me as we slowly grind against each other. We’re basically dry humping in my living room, our mouths locked, our hands wandering, searching, becoming bolder with every pass. This has never happened to me before. Never, ever, never—and I want more.

More, more, more.

“Damn, you taste good,” he mutters after he breaks our kiss, his mouth going for my neck, raining damp, hot kisses everywhere.

I tilt my head back, offering him better access. “Don’t stop,” I whisper, hating how desperate I sound, but I can’t help it.

I want him.

He nuzzles the sensitive skin of my neck just before he nibbles on my ear, his sharp teeth making me suck in a breath. I shiver, my eyes tightly closed, lost in the sensations of what Rhett’s doing to me. His hands slide up, up…until he’s cupping my breasts and I lean into his touch, eager for more.

His fingers slide over my bra slowly, making me ache. My previous sexual experiences were always a quick fumbling in the dark, bodies in awkward positions in the back of a car or in a bedroom, or in some stranger’s bathroom. He’d barely touch me, keeping most of our clothes on except for the important bits, his sole purpose to get his rocks off and that’s it. Forget about me. It’s like they didn’t even know how to make a girl orgasm. Every one of those boys had been self-centered and inexperienced, though they’d tell anyone who’d listen what a great fuck they were.

I just kept quiet. I never complimented anyone, and I never told them they left me unsatisfied either. I used them. They used me. Then we moved on.

Those encounters were completely forgettable.

This experience with Rhett is totally different. He’s focused on me. He’s not touching me to get something out of it. He’s wanting to bring me pleasure, and oh God, he so is. I know it shouldn’t feel like this with Rhett. I should be cold and indifferent. Thinking ahead, calculating my next move. Land him in bed, make him fall in love with me, get in good with his family, fuck them all over…and especially destroy my bitch of a mother.

That’s what I need to remember. Getting back at my mother is my ultimate goal, the thing that drives me above all else. Rhett is just a small piece of the far more complicated puzzle.

Yet all thoughts of the future and my end goal fly out of my brain when his hands slip under my shirt and connect with my bare skin. His touch sizzles, causing me to squirm, and he pulls away from my neck to watch me, his heated gaze meeting mine.

“We can continue this against the door,” he says, his voice a hoarse rasp that sends a chill down my spine. “Or we can find a more comfortable spot.”

I’m tempted to keep us right here, to let him take me against the door. But it would end up a frenzied moment, desperate and quick, and I want him to savor me.

Truthfully? I want to savor him too.

“My room,” I whisper, inclining my head toward the short hallway, “is over there.”

Rhett tightens his hold on me before he turns and carries me to the bedroom, my legs still wound around him, his hands gripping my butt. The room is dark and I direct him over to the right side of the bed, where I lean over and snap the lamp on.

“You do want the lights on, right?” I ask, sending him a cautious look. I want to see every bit of Rhett’s body. No way do I only want to imagine it as I stroke him in the dark.

“Oh yeah,” he says with a giant grin right before he deposits me on the bed. He drops me so hard, I bounce a little on the mattress, and I glare up at him, shoving my hair away from my face, but he just shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re pretty damn cute when you’re mad.”

You have no idea, I want to tell him, but my lips remain shut as I watch him with breathless anticipation. He toes off his shoes and kicks them aside, unbuttons and then shrugs out of his shirt, offering me a glimpse of his smooth, well-muscled chest and abs. I stare at him in silence, entranced by his exposed naked skin, and then he’s right there in front of me on the bed, slowly guiding me so I fall backward, my head hitting the pillows as he takes my mouth once more.

The doubts creep in immediately, even while he’s kissing me. I probably shouldn’t move so fast. Allowing him in my bed after only our second date is going to give him the wrong idea. That I’m fast and loose and forgettable. He goes through girls fairly quickly, from what I’ve observed. I let him get this far this early in the game, and he’ll most likely forget about me too.

I brace my hands against his chest, ready to push him away from me, but then he shifts down, his mouth at my neck, his hands on my waist, fingers slipping beneath my shirt. He nudges the fabric up, exposing my stomach, and then he’s moved down even farther, his mouth trailing kisses on my bare skin.

I imagine pushing Rhett away from me. Telling him no. But at first contact of his mouth on my flesh, I go weak. Instead, I grab hold of his broad shoulders, just so I can have something to hold on to, and as he draws closer, my hands slide up into his hair. I clutch at the soft, dark strands as his mouth blazes a trail up my stomach to just below my bra.

He tugs on my shirt and I lift up, letting him help me take my shirt off. It’s gone in an instant, his mouth returning to my stomach, delivering delicate kisses that make me shiver, make me restless. I shift beneath him, wishing he was kissing even more sensitive places just as he reaches behind me to unhook my bra.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispers, tugging the straps down until the bra falls away. I drop it over the side of the bed, practically thrusting my chest in his face. Walking around topless for months has made me a lot less shy than I used to be. My butt is kind of flat and my thighs are a little flabby, but there is no shame in my boob game.

Rhett doesn’t seem too disgusted by them either. He stares at my chest in utter reverence, gathering both of them in his hands and pulling them close together. His thumbs drift over my nipples, back and forth, back and forth, and I hiss in a sharp breath.

“You like that?” he asks, his gaze lifting to mine.

I nod. “They’re—sensitive.”

“Hmm.” His pleasurable hum vibrates against my skin as he dips down and draws one nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly before he releases it. “What about that? Did you like it?”

Another nod, a little cry accompanying it when he pulls the other nipple into his mouth and sucks harder this time. He caresses my breasts, his fingers light, almost tickling me, his mouth wet and hot as he sucks and sucks. My nipples are tight, pointing at the sky and wet from his mouth as he moves up to take my lips once again, his tongue diving deep. I spread my legs wide to accommodate his big body against mine, and I can feel his erection brush against the very center of me.

There is no doubt that it is very large and very long.

Giving in to my impulses, I reach down and touch him, my fingers curling around his length, testing him out. Am I too bold? Or is this what he wants? The agonized moan that rips from deep in his chest tells me he likes it, so I continue my exploration. Stroking and caressing, working him into a near fever, and we don’t even have his pants off yet.

That’s exactly what I don’t want. Frenzied fucking with our clothes half-hanging onto our bodies. This needs to be a complete reveal. My clothes and his are coming all the way off, until we’re naked and vulnerable in front of each other.

Yes. Vulnerable. That’s what I need to remember. Most guys like you broken, because then they feel like they can fix you, and so many of them are fixers. They want to be your hero, your savior, but you can’t be too broken, though. There’s a certain point where they give up, where they consider you beyond fixing. Me? I need to find that fine line and straddle it.

“Wait.” I drop my hand from his dick and scoot up the bed and over, as if I’m trying to get away from Rhett. He rolls over and away from me, his features drawn, his mouth turned upside down in a beautiful frown. The man is just too damn good-looking. “Let me catch my breath.”

“Am I—” He pants for three heartbeats, like he’s desperate to catch his breath. “—moving too fast for you?”

I hesitate. Like I really have to think about it. “A little. Not that I don’t want it to happen,” I tell him in a rush when I see the wary look on his face, as if he’s going to potentially remove himself from the situation. His expression turns shuttered, his body language shifting into flight position. Like he might leap away from my bed and shoot straight out of my house, never to be seen again. “I want you. I just need to, I don’t know, slow down for a little bit?” I phrase the last bit like a question, as if I’m unsure.

“Ah. Well, I can do that.” He sounds like the perfect, understanding boyfriend. I bet he would be a perfect, understanding boyfriend, if he actually settled down for once.

As he stretches out beside me on the bed, his arm going around my shoulders to pull me in closer to him, I wonder again if Rhett Montgomery is too good to be true. If what he shows me is nothing but smoke and mirrors with a sprinkle of magic, and the minute shit gets tough, he’ll reveal his true self. And his true self will be a complete asshole.

I almost wish that would happen. I want to see the cracks in his surface, see him be real and ugly and awful.

Then I’d feel like we have more in common.

“I hope you’re not mad at me.” I sound contrite, and the slightest bit sad. I need him to believe I’m sincere.

Truly, my body is buzzing with desire. If he reached between my legs right now and gave me one firm stroke of his fingers, I’d probably explode like a shaken-up bottle of champagne. But considering no man has ever made me come before—yes, I know, I’ve been with some real selfish assholes—I have serious doubts when it comes to his potential skills.

So far, what he’s shown me has been impressive. But I’m still not fully convinced.

“I could never be mad at you.” I can feel his lips move against my forehead as he speaks, and he presses a kiss there, chaste and sweet. I close my eyes against the onslaught of emotion that threatens to wash over me. He makes me feel good. He’s…kind. Yes, I think he’s putting on some sort of perfection front, but what if he’s not? What if he really is like this?

Then I’m screwed.