“Uh, yeah, I definitely need to practice,” Ezra grunted. And then he was moving past me, gently extricating the pile of pizza boxes from my clawing grip. “I’ll take these down to the bin on our way out,” he murmured.

The door closed behind them, and their footsteps receded down the stairs. I sucked in a ragged breath. SJ stood, rooted to the spot just inside the door.

“I … have so much that I need to⁠—”

I launched myself at him, knocking him against the entry table. The replacement vase that Humphrey had made tumbled to the floor with a crash. I ignored it, too frustrated that I couldn’t get close enough. The bloody donut box was in the way!

“Give me that!” I snapped, snatching the thing from him.

A wary chuckle burst out of him. “Are you that desperate for donuts?”

I tossed the box onto the coffee table, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down to me. “I’m that desperate for you, you silly devil!” I mumbled against his mouth. “Make-up sex first, donuts for dessert.”

And then I kissed him. Deeply … desperately … messily. I gripped the back of his neck like it was a lifeline and licked the seam of his lips until he opened on a groan, taking my mouth with the hunger I’d seen in his eyes just moments ago.

He nipped at my bottom lip, soothing it with his tongue and then plundering my mouth, his palms pressing the small of my back until my hips met his body, his bulge insistent against me. My hands made their way over the broadness of his shoulders, finding the buttons of his shirt and fumbling them open, tugging it off.

The feel of those firm pecs, the ridges of muscle rippling in his stomach as I dragged my fingers over them, was divine. Until he stilled my questing hands, caging my wrists in his grip.

“I missed you,” he rasped into my mouth before tangling his tongue with mine, teasing and flicking until I was a shaking, needy mess in his arms. And then he worked his way across my cheek, finding my earlobe and sucking it into his mouth until I moaned.

“However, I need to apologise for … all the awful things,” he murmured into my ear.

“Like I said,” I mumbled, breaking free from his grasp and reaching up to twist my fingers in his hair. I tugged him down until his forehead met mine. “I’m ready to make up. And if you feel the need to grovel …” I hooked a leg around his hip, and like the good boy he was, he cupped my butt and lifted me so I was wrapped around him properly. “Do it with actions, not words.”

His gaze searched mine for an interminable second, and slowly, tantalisingly, his eyes darkened, his lips parting on a tiny smile.