Page 140 of Rush

“Watch us.”

I force my eyes open, and the sight nearly undoes me—him behind me, unrelenting, every thrust slamming into me with primal brutality, like he’s trying to bury himself inside my very soul.

Air can’t come fast enough. I claw at my chest, yanking my top down. My breasts spill free, nipples hard and aching, bouncing with each snap of his hips. I’m gasping and desperate—lost to the rhythm of him, to the ache and the stretch and the sound of skin against skin.

He sees me in the mirror—bare, trembling—and something inside him shatters. His eyes flare, savage and starving as he grabs my breast, his palm rough, fingers tugging hard at my nipple until my head falls forward. A broken cry tears from my throat. My thighs quake, the pleasure burns through me, wild and consuming.

He slams into me harder—faster—chasing his own release, dragging mine out with each ruthless thrust. The sound of him, the feel of him—it’s too much and yet it’s not enough. I sob his name as I come again, splintering around him, gripping the vanity for dear life.

He cries out my name before he spills inside me. His forehead presses into my spine, breath catching as we collapse, completely undone.

He brushes a tender kiss against my shoulder, voice warm with quiet laughter. “That make up for New York?”

My body utterly boneless, heart still thundering in my chest. “Not even close.”

“Greedy girl.”

“Only for you.”

He laughs, low and rough, lips grazing my skin—lingering, possessive. “Good. Because I came all the way to Chicago foryou...and I plan on making you come all night for me.”

I don’t know how long our little arrangement would last—how long we could keep stealing moments like this. But I want it. Selfishly. Shamelessly.

For as long as we possibly can.

Chapter 17

Undisclosed Desires

Ikick Broderick out around 2 a.m.—not wanting him to get too comfortable with the pillow talk and post-coital cuddling, we’d all but tempted fate with our lack of self-control at Philippa and Andrew’s wedding, it was time to get back to it—create a little distance, reestablish the rules.

My body still ached as a reminder of his relentless pursuit of my pleasure. I wasn’t complaining—this was exactly what I wanted, and he was living up to his role as my own personal sex toy. I chuckle at the thought while I prepare for a day of sightseeing before flying to Seattle.

I’d never been to Chicago before. One of the perks of being on tour is getting to see new places for the first time. It feels like my world is finally opening up.

Is this what Mom meant by living a little?

Thinking about her now feels less like having her on mind and more like a memory. I wish she were here—to listen to all my stories, to give me her advice. I miss her.

Would she be proud of me for stepping outside the safety of my bubble? For taking chances?

I guess I’ll never know.

I sigh, applying gloss and zhuzhing my hair in the mirror, there’s a knock at the door.

Who could that be?

I tuck my hotel keycard into my bag and open it.

“Good morning, sweetheart. I thought I’d be a gentleman and take you to breakfast this morning—seeing as I know how…friskyyou get over waffles.” He smiles—a panty-dropping, full-dimpled smile. All cocky and smug.

Our history with breakfast events isn’t lost on me.

“Well, in that case, we’ll have to settle for the hotel’s breakfast buffet. Can’t risk paparazzi or someone snapping a picture of us.”

“No need, baby. I got you covered,” he says, trailing a hand over his body. He’s dressed exactly like one of my security details—black suit, white shirt, skinny black tie, black aviators. Radio plugged in his ear.

“Happy Halloween?” I ask, glancing down at myself in acid-washed jeans and a forest green knit sweater. “I’m not sure I’m following.”