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“You keep pushing me,” he mutters against my mouth, voice rough enough to scrape down my spine.

I laugh softly despite myself. “You say that like you don’t enjoy it.”

His hand tightens slightly at my throat, not enough to hurt, just enough to make my breath catch while his forehead presses against mine.

“That attitude’s gonna get you in trouble.”

I tilt my head slightly, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “Pretty sure we flew past trouble when you dragged me into your apartment caveman-style.”

That almost gets a smile out of him before he kisses me again harder, swallowing the rest of my smartass comments before they can leave my mouth.

Rude, but hot.

Deeply inconvenient combination.

Because now my hands are fisting in his hair and my legs are locked around his waist and I’m not sure if I’m trying to pull him deeper or push him away.

Maybe both. Maybe neither.

Or maybe I just need him to keep proving that he missed me as much as I missed him.

He breaks the kiss to breathe, forehead pressed to mine, and his voice comes out wrecked when

he says, “Admit you missed me,”

I laugh breathlessly, even as his cock pulses inside me. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

His grip tightens on my thighs, bruising. “You’re a fucking problem.”

“Yeah, but I’m your problem.”

That gets me a growl and another brutal thrust that tips a glass off the counter and shatters it on the floor. Neither of us cares.

“You should’ve stayed away,” he says against my skin, quieter this time, like he’s trying to convince himself.

I lean back against the cabinets, trying to breathe normally while he kisses down my neck. “But I didn’t.”

“No,” he mutters, gripping my thigh harder. “You fucking didn’t.”

The way he looks at me when he pulls back enough to actually meet my eyes almost knocks the sarcasm right out of me for a second.

Almost.

Because underneath all the anger and tension and control issues, there’s something worse sitting there.

Relief.

Like he hated staying away from me just as much as I hated being left behind.

Which, okay.

I’ll admit does something deeply unfortunate to me emotionally.

I hook my legs tighter around his waist anyway, dragging him closer just to watch his jaw flex while he’s still buried deep enough inside me to make coherent thought feel genuinely optional.

Tiny victory.

Still counts.