He loved her. He always had. There had never been another choice.

Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers. The connection they shared was undeniable. His blood heated as her lips moved gently under his. As she sighed into his mouth and he breathed her in. “Remington.”

He took the kiss deeper, fighting to stay easy and sweet. But when he tasted her tongue, when she let out that tiny whimper that went straight to his cock, he was ravenous for her. He teased with tongue and teeth, stroking into her mouth as he pulled her into his lap.

He was so goddamn hard for her. Only her.

Then she was pulling back and taking a ragged breath. Her cheeks were red, and those lips were swollen and parted. It looked like an invitation for more. But when he moved to take her mouth again, she stopped him. “I’m going to head back,” she whispered.

“What?” His arms banded around her, his body tensing at the thought of her leaving. He’d gone two nights without her in his bed. He wouldn’t make it a third. “Don’t people who date spend the night together?”

She gave him a wide-eyed, dazed look. “Brick. Honey. I can’t trust myself to get between the sheets with you and not do all the things we’re not going to do.”

“I think I can fend you off,” he scoffed, tracing a thumb over her lower lip. It quivered at his touch.

She slid around so she was straddling him. But she stayed high on her knees, preventing the friction he craved. “No,” she kissed him. “You can’t.”

Gripping her hips, he yanked her down against his rigid arousal and watched as her eyes went glassy. Her gasp filled him with the kind of filthy desires one night could never quench. He needed more time with her. More from her.

He wasn’t sure if he was testing her or himself. Did she really understand that there was more between them than sex? Did he believe he deserved more from her?

When she put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward, it was a soft, chaste kiss that she pressed to his mouth.

“Thank you for a really nice night,” she whispered, brushing another kiss over his cheek.

She took his fucking breath away.

“You can’t be serious,” he said as she got off his lap and started to gather their dishes. He rose, taking the plates from her and putting them back down.

“I’m serious. I hurt you. Now I’m making up for it.”

The throbbing erection in his fucking sweatpants was hurting him. He needed to be inside her. Needed to remind her how much she wanted him.

“You made your point,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. We’re good. Come upstairs, Remington.”

“No.” She said it simply, finally, then left the room. He followed her feeling flummoxed and panicky. As if one word from her could stop him from tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs, making her scream his name as he drowned in her body.