Page 146 of The Rut in the Road

You should be mad.He should be furious.

I miss you.

That made me tear up, which was a bit awkward, since I had to try to make sure the client sitting over on the couch didn’t notice, although I suppose that’s what I got for putting this offuntil I got to work the next day instead of just sucking it up and texting him at eleven p.m. the night before, which was about when Hart had left.

Come over after work?I sent back.

I’ll bring dinner.

I hesitated, then typed,I want to cook.

I don’t know why, but it just seemed more appropriate if I made him dinner. Of course, that was stupid, considering that I wasn’t really a very good cook at all, but I did have a few packages of Sam’s family’s Italian Stallion hot Italian sausage and some slow-cooked tomato sauce from a few weeks ago in the freezer, so I could do something with those that wouldn’t be terrible.

What can I bring?Raj texted back.

Nothing, I sent.Just you.

And then I very deliberately shut off my phone.

The apartment smelled prettygood by the time I got the text letting me know he’d arrived. I hit the buzzer for the door, holding it for the required four seconds that it usually took people to yank the door open.

My heart pounded the whole time it took him to either take the stairs or ride the elevator up to my floor.

The knock on my door was gentle, but I still jumped. I made myself take Mason’s advice before leaving the kitchen. I counted to ten, drawing in slow, deep breaths. Then I went.

I opened the door, knowing my eyes were wide and my hands shaking.

Raj had been looking down, and he lifted his head to look at me through thick, dark lashes. He opened his mouth tosay something, then stopped. His lips twitched slightly, and he reached out a slow hand to brush his thumb across my cheek.

I sucked in a breath.

He turned his hand to show me the red on his thumb.

I felt my face flush. “Tomato sauce,” I muttered, embarrassed.

He stuck it in his mouth. “Good tomato sauce,” he said softly. “Rayn, I?—”

I stood on my toes, grabbing the front of his rumpled button-down shirt with my good hand—a soft butter yellow—and pulled his lips to mine.

One big hand slid into my hair, cupping the back of my head as he pushed me into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him, his tongue taking possession of my mouth as his other hand held me up with his palm pressed against my spine.

My back hit the wall, and that hand slid down, over my hip and under my ass to lift me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing a growl from him as I pulled our hips together.

“Fuck, Rayn,” he gasped against my lips.

I wrapped my good hand behind his neck, pulling his mouth back to mine.

In the kitchen, a timer went off. Probably the garlic bread, although I didn’t particularly care.

Raj pulled back. “Do you?—”

I kissed him again, the feel of his body’s reaction sending electricity through my nerve-endings.

The timer beeped again, having not been shut off in the last thirty seconds.

I felt Raj laugh against my mouth, and I let out a faint sound of protest.

“You should get that,” he said gently, putting me back on my feet.