Page 237 of Rush

He leans in and kisses my cheek, then gives me a firm smack on the ass. “You are absolutely going to regret this commentary in the morning.”

“You say that like I don’t mean every word.”

He climbs into bed and flicks off the side lamp, but the glow of the city still spills through the windows, turning his silhouette golden.

I wriggle around, burrowing into him…then without warning—I straddle him.

“Elena…” he warns, hands coming to my hips.

“Fuck me,” I say, grinding down on him with a slow roll of my hips.

He groans, throwing his head back against the pillow. “You’re drunk. I’m not going to?—”

I pout, wiggling against him. “I’m notthatdrunk.”

“You just tried to convince me my biceps make you horny and announced my dick size to the ceiling.”

“Valid observations.”

He snorts. “You are such a menace.”

I drag my fingers down his torso, lazy and deliberate.

Lower.

And lower.

“Oh, there he is,” I say, grinning as I wrap my hand around him. “Hello, handsome,” I coo—talking directly to his cock.

He sucks in a breath, his abs tightening under my touch.

“Don’t you dare—” he warns, voice cracking mid-sentence.

I squeeze lightly, dragging my hips against him. “Mine.”

“You’re a brat,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “A drunk, dangerous little brat.”

He flips us in one swift movement, pinning me beneath him.

“Now we’re talking.” I squirm.

“Tell me you love me and I’ll fuck you.”

“Fuck me, pretty please,” I whisper. His weight presses into me—grounding, heavy in all the right ways.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love…” I drag it out, wicked, “your eyes.”

“And your muscles.” I squirm again. “And your cock.Inside me.”

He growls—low, rough.

“And this,” I say, pressing my hand to his chest.

His heart.

God, he has the most beautiful heart. And all I can think was how much I don’t want to break it. How badly I want to keep it safe—from me and all my fucked-up shit.