“And your mom? Have you heard from her?”
“You know she’s gone away?”
He shrugged. “Becca told me. I was surprised when I heard it. I never thought she’d go to rehab.”
“Me either.” Her eyes met his. “But she’s there.” She shrugged. “We get to see her next weekend.”
“That’s good.” He glanced at her bed. It was a mistake. Because all the memories of touching her while in bed came flooding back. “Can we go to the kitchen to talk?” he asked her.
“Sure.” Her brows dipped. “Why?”
“Because if we stay in here I’m going to need to touch you.”
“What if I want to be touched?”
Her words sent a shot of desire through him that was almost impossible to ignore. And yet he had to. They needed to talk. He swallowed hard, trying to harness his willpower.
“You’re not making this easy,” he told her. “I’m really trying to be strong here.”
“I’ve missed you,” she said softly. The way she was looking at him almost killed him. There was a need in her eyes that reflected his own.
“Yeah.” His voice was strangled. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She reached out to cup his cheek, her fingers splaying across his rough skin. She stepped forward until her body pressed against his, and desire immediately shot through him.
He dropped his brow to hers, his lashes sweeping down as he stared at her. “Van…”
“I know,” she whispered. “But please kiss me first. I need to feel you. Then we can talk.”
The wisp of control that was holding him back seemed to dissipate as he stared down at her, taking in her warm eyes, her soft lips, her pink cheeks. She was looking at him like he was the air she breathed. It made him ache all over.
For her.
“Damn,” he whispered, sliding his palm up her neck, tangling his fingers into her hair until her head was angled perfectly to his. She overwhelmed his senses. He was full of her. The scent of her strawberry shampoo, the sight of her wide eyes staring into his. He could hear her, too. Soft sighs that made him harder than he’d ever felt before. He tried to remember why he was here, what he was planning to do. But all he could think about were her enticing lips.
Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. They touched as she breathed out, warm air caressing his skin. His tongue pressed against hers, and she let out a low moan, flinging her arms around his neck to steady herself.
God, he needed her. She arched her back, kissing him, hot and needy, and he scooped his arms beneath her, lifting her until her legs wrapped around his hips. Carrying her over to the bed, he dropped her onto the mattress, his eyes dark as he went to climb on top of her.
You need to talk, dumbass.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he muttered with annoyance.
“What?” Van frowned.
He shook his head. “Not you. It’s Logan. He’s messing with my mind.”
She propped herself up on her elbows, and he tried really hard not to stare at the way her t-shirt molded against her breasts. “Logan’s here?”
“Nope, he’s in Boston. I still want to kill him though.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his right hand. “Come on, let’s go talk.”
“Now?” She sounded disappointed. He felt the same.
“Yeah, now.”
She nodded. “Okay. You want me to make you coffee?”
“Coffee would be great.” He followed her out of the bedroom, his aching hardness protesting at the sudden change of heart. “And if it’s okay with you, I’m going to talk really fast.”