Page 178 of That Rush

“I thought you came to discuss our relationship.”

“We did. Now I’d like to evaluate my competition.”

He opens to the page I marked and scans it while I set my wineglass and key ring on the coffee table.

“He talks for three pages before he even touches her?”

“He’s building anticipation. He has her wrists pinned over her head.”

“That part is efficient. All the talking isn’t.”

I laugh and sit on the couch. “You’re jealous of a fictional man.”

“I have concerns about his technique.” He closes the book and places it on the coffee table. “Show me what you liked.”

I feel Aiden’s gaze move over me, slow and deliberate, before it settles on my bare legs. “I expect you to tell me what you want. We’ve established how important it is that I ask.”

“Do not use my serious point to improve your foreplay.”

“I’m using your serious point to listen.”

That answer strips the joke out of me. Aiden comes closer, then waits.

I spread my knees enough for him to step between them. “Sit down.”

He takes my place on the couch, and I climb onto his lap. His hands remain on the cushion beside his thighs even when I settle over him.

“Where do you want them?” he asks.

“On my ass.”

“That’s specific.”

“You said you wanted direction.”

His palms close around me, hauling me against the hard ridge beneath his jeans. Satisfaction flashes across his face.

“The woman who invited me over to explain how much she needs her own space, then climbed into my lap.”

“Those ideas coexist beautifully.”

“They do from where I’m sitting.”

I kiss him before he can turn that into another question about our future. His mouth opens beneath mine, warm and demanding. His grip shifts beneath my shorts, skin against skin as he rocks me slowly over him.

Desire has never been our problem. Wanting Aiden is so easy it feels reckless.

I lift my arms when he catches the bottom of my shirt. He pulls it over my head, then finds my throat while one hand cups my breast through my bra.

“You wore this while you were home alone reading?” he asks.

“I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Then why do you look like every filthy thought I had on the drive over?”

“Poor impulse control?”

“Mine or yours?”