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As I reach the last shirt button, I’m impatiently untucking it and then shoving it off his shoulders. I’m ready to move onto his belt buckle when I pause long enough to digest how good he looks.

It was obvious even with his shirt on that Rhett Dawson’s fit and toned. With his shirt off, he reaches mouthwatering levels of sexy.

Six-pack abs and carved pecs paired with a hint of masculine hair trailing from his navel down below, out of sight.

The sudden urge to lick my way down his broad, muscular chest strikes me.

Then I remember our age difference again and how Rhett’s in the best shape of his life while my body’s been put through the ringer the past few years.

I know I’m attractive.

But I’m forty-six-year-old-cancer-survivor attractive. I’m not twenty-six-year-old-best-shape-of-my-life attractive.

I’ve got parts that sag. Some flesh that’s untoned and jiggles. Hardly comparable to the tight, toned body a twenty-something woman might have…

My sudden—and jarring—insecurity must read in my body language.

Rhett cups my chin and draws my mouth back to his. He somehow kisses me more passionately than before and then draws back to speak.

Keeping our faces close, he says, “You’re so fucking sexy, Vivica. This goes as far as you’ll allow. But just know you’ve got me hard as steel even thinking about touching you.”

His husky voice and earnest words penetrate the fog of insecurity. I hesitate for only half a second longer before pulling him back down on me for more heavy kisses.

It’s officially on.

His fingers slip under the hem of my blouse. On my bare skin for the first real time, his touch makes me shudder.

Then we’re pulling away again. My eyes snap up to his, and we hold each other’s gaze as we undress. I’m undoing his belt buckle while he slowly goes to slide off my top.

The second the fabric’s over my head, I reach around my back to undo my bra and get the moment of truth over with.

Rhett once again shows me I have nothing to be self-conscious about. His gaze openly lowers to my chest, and he swears under his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Can I…?”

But he doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence. Temptation takes over and he’s stepping into me, hand sliding up the side of my neck and head dropping to chest level.

I arch against the heat of his mouth as it closes over my right breast. Rhett’s tongue follows, flicking over the soft mound of flesh and making me forget what I was nervous about in the first place.

The rest of our clothes are quick to come off. We’re even quicker hurrying to the bedroom.

Rhett’s only in his boxers, and I’m in my panties as he scoops me up and I laugh and shout directions to him how to get there.

Then we’re collapsing to the bed tangled together, already kissing before we even land.

My eyes close as I lay under him, and he starts kissing me all over my body.

Pleasure chemicals ring through me, and we haven’t even had sex yet.

Rhett kisses his way from my stomach to my thighs and then he tugs my panties off. His boxers are next as I push myself up and take in his sizable girth.

He’s definitely packing.

“About protection…”

“No worries,” he says, reaching over for his wallet. “I’ve got a condom.”

“We’re probably going to need some lube. I have some in the right drawer.” I jut my chin at the nightstand beside the bed. At the furrow of his brow—almost as if he’s the one now self-conscious—I decide to clarify. “I’m turned on. Trust me. But I told you, I’m a little older and have had some health issues going on and… sometimes I don’t get as wet as I used to.”