Page 71 of That Rush

I brace one hand beside her head. “Tell me if it stops working.”

“It won’t.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I will.”

I kiss her.

Paige grabs my shirt and pulls me closer, her mouth opening for me with an urgency that matches mine after four long days. I keep one hand against the shelf and slide the other around her waist, staying clear of the security cameras.

She bites my lower lip.

I drag my mouth along her jaw, and she tips her head to give me her throat. Her laugh becomes a quiet moan when I find the pulse below her ear. She presses closer, her hand drifting toward my belt again.

My hand closes around her wrist.

“Friday,” I say against her skin.

“That’s a long time.”

“Three days.”

“Unreasonable.”

“Still what we agreed.”

A wheel squeaks at the end of the aisle.

We separate as a woman pushes a basket around the corner. Paige grabs the nearest book and studies its cover while I pick up my coffee. The woman gives us a knowing look and keeps walking.

Paige waits until the squeaking wheel disappears.

She leans close. “Smooth.”

“You grabbed a book called The Highwayman’s Captive Bride.”

“It was within reach.”

“Does he have references?”

“Probably not.”

The closing announcement sounds overhead. Paige returns the book to the shelf and steps close enough that her lips brush my ear.

“After the lake, I want you naked in my bed,” she whispers. “And this time, I want you inside me.”

My hand tightens around the coffee cup.

She leans back, watching my face. “If we both still want that Friday.”

“I want it now.”

“So do I.”

I hold her gaze. “Friday.”

“Friday.”