Page 12 of Hard to Resist

“So, are you saying you believe in finding your soulmate and not just the next best bang?”

“Next best bang?”

“Yeah. My roommate lives by the mantra that men in the city are always on the hunt for the next best bang.”

“Your roommate sounds like an interesting person.”

“She’s a riot, unlike anyone you’ll ever meet. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Do I believe in that? Soulmates?

I thought I did, once. I’d become enamored and obsessed, making that person my entire life. That’s the way I love–completely and without hesitation. I pour my entire soul into loving the person I am with, but I’d poured myself into a person who bled me dry until there was nothing but a husk left of me.

I look at the way Verity’s eyes seem to sparkle in the amber lights, how her cheeks have this pink flush that’s gotten deeper as the night has worn on. Despite being stood up by her date, she has this pure belief in love that reminds me of myself before my ex stomped on my heart.

She’s like a kindred soul, and when I look at her, I want to open myself again. I want the chase and capture of an obsessive love. I want that again, and I want it to work this time.

The person I’d thought was my soulmate turned out not to be, but that doesn’t mean that person isn’t still out there…or right in front of me. I am making so many changes in my life right now; I’m moving forward and finally putting the past behind me. Why not give love a second shot while I’m at it?

“Yes. I do believe in soulmates.”

I say it with such finality that Verity sucks in a stuttering breath. There is a moment of complete silence between us as the air buzzes, with my words humming at the center.

“This might be the alcohol talking, but this was a way better night than I would’ve had if Mike had shown up.” Verity leans back in her chair and smiles wistfully at the bar.

I’m going to venture that Mike is the dickhead who stood her up. Part of me wonders what company he works for, if we’ve ever crossed paths before, but he doesn’t sound like he’d be a memorable person anyway.

“I mean, look at me.” She tosses out a crooked smile. “I got to go to an underground speakeasy with a mysterious, hot guy and eat what are probably the best wings in the city while rambling about my love life.”

“You think I’m hot?”

Her smile cracks. “I think I need to sew my mouth shut.”

“I can think of other ways to keep your mouth busy.”

A flush crawls over her cheeks as her lips part slightly. There’s no mistaking the way her eyes dart to my mouth and then my crotch and then back up to my mouth. The very same mouth that now curves into a wolfish smirk as I reach forward and pick up one of the complimentary hard melon candies that sit in a small ceramic bowl on the table and hold it out to her.

“I was talking about the candies. Why? What were you thinking of that got you blushing?”

“Nothing.” She snatches the sweet from my hand, focusing all her attention on unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. “Absolutely nothing.”

Fuck, she’s adorable.

I want her.

The thought comes out of left field, hitting me in the jaw like a curveball.

“Hi, can I get you anything else?” Our server is back and she picks up the two empty plates from our table. “Last call for the kitchen is in thirty.”

“Last call?” Verity swipes her purse and digs out her phone. Her temporary frown morphs into shock. “It’s one a.m.?”

“Yes, but the bar will still be open until four. So no rush.”

“That’s not—” She blinks over at me and then her phone, repeating the game a few times until she sticks on me. “How did it get so late?”

“I’m a riveting conversationalist.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpans.

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