Page 222 of Rush

Heat rushes back into my cheeks, all the way to my ears. I nod once, small.

“Yes.”

His grin spreads slowly, full of cocky satisfaction. “I knew it.”

I swat his chest, but he catches my wrist, brings it to his mouth, and kisses the inside.

“Your ass was begging for it,” he says, voice low and wicked. “Perfect. Pink. Winking up at me—begging to be filled.”

“Broderick,” I groan, hiding my face in his neck. “Please never saywinkingandmy assin the same sentence ever again.”

He just laughs, his hand sliding lazily over my thigh.

Then, quieter, “Why’d you come over?”

That stalls me.

I pull back slightly, looking up at him.

“I was horny.”

I missed you.

He laughs so hard his chest rumbles.

“How was Atlanta?” he asks, shaking his head.

“It was okay.”

It was awful.

He tilts his head, like he caught me in a lie—which he has.

“I saw the videos online—you were amazing, as always. I loved the Christmas-themed design of the stage. That was new.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, staring at my hands, remembering Atlanta, not for the high it was but seeinghim—I hated that he tainted that experience for me.

“Did something happen?” he asks, his tone softer now.

I shake my head

“El—talk to me.”

“I’m just tired…it’s okay,” I sigh, I don’t want to bring him up, even breathe word of his name after Broderick all but erased him from my mind.

Something shifts in his face—just a flicker. A seriousness under all the teasing. His fingers flex lightly around my hip.

“You want to know what I think?” He smirks.

I nod.

“I think you missed me.”

My breath catches.

“Say it.”

I shake my head, pouting my lips at him.