Page 165 of That Rush

“You listen too well,” I murmur against his mouth.

His voice is rough against my ear. “I’ll keep doing it.”

“Dangerous promise.”

He kisses the corner of my mouth, then drags his lips along my jaw. “You like danger when it follows instructions.”

“Your hands were assigned to a kitchen counter.”

His hand flexes on my hip. “We haven’t reached the kitchen.”

“Convenient interpretation.”

“You were the one who kissed me.”

“I have a weakness for electrical safety.”

Aiden laughs against my throat. The sound vibrates over my skin, warm and rough, before his teeth graze the sensitive place beneath my ear. Heat pulls low and sharp, and I tilt my head to give him more access.

He takes it, then stops before I forget that dinner and a six-year-old exist beyond this room.

His thumb brushes my swollen lower lip. “Come on. I told Josie we’d make dinner.”

“A bold follow-up to attempted seduction beside unsecured shelving.”

“The shelves are secured.”

“Good. I’d hate for your ranch records to be endangered.”

He looks at the empty frames, then back at me. “You’ll look good surrounded by your books in here.”

You’ll.

The future tense slips beneath the teasing. Aiden reaches for my hand with no sign he said anything unusual, and I let him lead me toward the house.

The room he built makes me want to kiss him, but the certainty in his single word follows us out the door.

The kitchen counter is the first thing I look at when we enter the foreman’s house.

Aiden catches me assessing it. “Will it work?”

“It’s disappointingly practical.”

“It’s a counter.”

“It lacks atmosphere.”

“You were specific about what you wanted me to do against it. Atmosphere wasn’t mentioned.”

Heat climbs my neck as I set my bag on a chair. “You remember an alarming amount when sex is involved.”

“I remember everything you tell me.”

After the room he built for me, that answer lands differently.

I move to the refrigerator before he can see my face. “What are we making?”

“Quesadillas. Josie requested them.”