Page 58 of Rush the Edge

His sexy smirk drives me up a wall. My fingers itch with anticipation.

He remains unmoving with his arms still resting along the back of the couch like a smug asshole. Little flickers of his abs catch my eye that I try my hardest to ignore.

Although we seem to be at an impasse, neither of us moving, we’re dancing around each other with buzzing energy.

The haughty look in his eye is all the push I need to get the job done.

I amnot the little virgin teenager that he knew years ago. Dicks don’t scare me anymore.

Even his.

One.

Two.

Three.

My arm stretches forward, and my palm slaps against the phone, but before I can curl my fingers around it, Kane flexes his hips and traps me there with his hand. There’s a rigid outline that my fingertips brush against, and my thighs clench absentmindedly.

Shit, I hope he didn't notice that.

“Tell me what’s going on with you,” he grits.

I wonder if I could make him beg.

“Let my hand go, and I will,” I whisper.

“I’m enjoying the placement, actually.” He winks.

“With my hand on your dick?” I blurt.

He drops his attention to my boobs. “I was referring to your tits in my face. Did those grow over the last few years?”

I look down only to see my shirt gaping open from the angle.Ugh.

“It’s apparent that you like them.” I press on his hard length to make a point, but all that does is make his pupils dilate.

Suddenly, I’m swept off my feet and tossed onto his lap. My hands fly to his shoulders as both my legs wrap around his waist.

How the hell?—

He’s too swift for his own good.

“I have a hard-on because I have to take a piss, Daisy-Petal.” Kane grips my hips, and for a split second, I think he’s going to guide me back and forth against him. I completely ignore the fact that Iwanthim to. “Surely you didn’t think I was turned on because of your body being on mine all night.”

My eyebrows knit together. “Of course I didn’t think that!”

Kane smirks and raises an eyebrow.

Annoyed and unable to keep up with this charade, I push off him and stomp away.

His laugh follows me all the way to the kitchen, where I start to make my matcha.

“You win,” I call over my shoulder. “I’m too tired to deal with you today, so if you could see yourself out, that’d be great.”

His dark chuckle races up my spine. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what this is.”

I glance toward the living room, and he’s still sitting in the same spot on the couch with his back to me. His hair is a darker blond now, likely from spending all this time inside an ice rink instead of underneath the sun outside. He waves my notebook in the air, and my hand freezes with the frother still spinning in mid-air.

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