Page 63 of That Rush

Satisfaction darkens his expression, but he finishes taking care of me without turning the tenderness into another seduction. Then he sets the cloth aside and stretches out beside me. The sight of him so relaxed in my bed is a different kind of intimacy.

I roll onto my side. “You’re holding impressively still for a man who is still wearing painfully tight jeans.”

“I am exercising restraint.”

“Is that what the vein in your forehead means?”

His mouth twitches. “You don’t owe me an orgasm because I gave you one.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

I trace one finger over his chest. “I can hear you thinking from here.”

“I need to be clear about something.”

His voice loses its teasing edge, and a familiar caution makes me go still.

“I can call this casual if that’s what you need tonight,” he says. “But I won’t pretend I’m indifferent, and I won’t share you while we’re doing this.”

My finger stops. The possessiveness in his voice sends a fresh pulse through my tender body, but the decision still belongs to both of us.

“You don’t get to make that rule alone.”

“I know. I’m telling you what I want.”

“And what if I disagree?”

“I leave disappointed, and I keep my hands to myself.”

He states the boundary, then leaves the choice with me.

“Are you seeing anyone else?” I ask.

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

“No.” His hand settles at my waist. “Do you?”

“After what you just did? I would have to be deeply committed to poor judgment.”

“Paige.”

“No. There is no one else, and I don’t want anyone else.”

His thumb strokes once across my skin. “Good.”

“Exclusive casual sex.” I test the words. “That already sounds complicated.”

“Simple ended the second you corrected me for calling you lady.”

“You deserved that.”

“I did.” He draws me closer. “Next Friday?”

“That sounded suspiciously like an assumption.”