Page 64 of Rush

Jesus effing Christ.

I mentally roll my eyes so hard; I almost give myself a headache.

“Thank you.” He chuckles into my mouth.

“I meant, height.”

“Of course you did.”

“But you do seem big…down there.”

“I am.”

Well, there you go.

His hand slides up my side, brushing the underside of my breast, making me moan.

My hands go to his chest.

Holy shit.

Rock-hard muscle beneath smooth skin.

He’s hard everywhere.

And I am a lucky, lucky girl.

I run my fingertips through the smattering of hair on his chest, tracing one of his nipples, and he shivers.

Then, he kisses me harder. One hand plunges into my hair, tilting my head back, taking control of the kiss, and I am more than willing to let him take over. The other hand skims the hem of my T-shirt, fingers running under the hem, brushing against my skin, making it my turn to shiver.

I slide my hands around his back and down to his ass and squeeze.

He has a great ass. A really, really great ass. It’s as firm as it looks.

His fingers are still teasing the skin of my stomach, driving me crazy.

I want him to touch me. Everywhere.

“Touch me, please,” I whisper.

He groans, biting down on my bottom lip before licking the sting away, as his hand finds its way up my shirt and cups my breast over my bra.

The first brush of his thumb over my nipple has my hips pushing forward, seeking pressure, which he willingly gives me, pressing his dick against me. Then, he starts to move his hips, thrusting up and down.

Well, this went from naught to a hundred pretty quickly.

Not that I’m complaining.

“Fuck,” he chokes out as we start dry-humping the shit out of each other. “You feel so fucking good.”

His hand has now left my hair and is gripping my hip, fingers digging in me in the most delicious way, holding me in place. I’m just holding on to him for dear life. The feelings running through me right now are indescribable.

“You’re incredible, Ari. So goddamn beautiful. But we have to stop.”

“Wha…” I manage to get out as he wrenches away from me.

He’s back against the counter, hands gripping the edge, like he’s afraid to let go, chest heavy with breaths.