Page 222 of That Rush

Nearly two weeks of missing him destroy every bit of patience I intended to have. I grab his shirt and kiss him harder. He tastes like coffee, and his skin still holds a trace of the cold from outside, but his mouth is hot and hungry against mine.

Aiden grips my hips and starts turning us toward the desk.

I press my palm to his chest. “I’m leading.”

He stops immediately, although his breathing is already rough. “Then lead.”

I back him against the desk and push his shirt from his shoulders. My hands move over his chest, relearning every hard line I’ve spent nearly two weeks trying not to think about.

“I missed this,” I say.

“My body?”

“That too.” I flatten my palm over his heart. “Mostly you.”

Something naked and vulnerable moves across his face.

“Paige.”

“I’m not finished.”

“I’m trying very hard to let you be.”

I reach for his belt. “Try harder.”

By the time I free his cock, the desk is creaking beneath the force of his grip.

I wrap my hand around him and stroke once.

Aiden’s hips jerk forward.

“That’s what nearly two weeks did to you?”

“That’s what you walking through the door did to me.”

I tighten my grip and stroke him again, slower this time. “Did you think about me?”

“Every fucking night.”

“What did you think about?”

His jaw flexes. “You want the honest answer?”

“I’m standing here with my hand around your cock. I think we’re past polite conversation.”

Aiden catches my wrist, stopping my hand at the base. “I thought about getting you beneath me and fucking you until neither one of us remembered why we’d spent nearly two weeks apart.”

My pulse kicks.

“I thought about your legs around me. The noises you make when I’m deep inside you.” He draws my hand up his shaft and back down. “I thought about coming inside you and keeping you in my bed all night.”

“That’s better.”

“I wasn’t finished.”

“Neither am I.”

I kiss him again, then release him and step back.