Page 59 of Crew

I glanced over. “So do you now.”

We didn’t say much else. Not because it was awkward. It just didn’t feel like we had to fill the silence.

When I pulled into my building’s garage, I parked and leaned back in my seat.

“This feels kinda surreal.”

“Yeah.”

He turned toward me. “You ever think we’d end up on the same team again?”

“Not once. But I’m so happy we did. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

We got out and headed inside. I flicked on the lights and dropped my keys on the counter while he walked in. He didn’t seem surprised by anything. Just gave the place a once-over as he strolled further inside.

“Looks like your place in Denver. Just … smaller.”

“Same furniture,” I said with a shrug, “different city.”

He nodded and stepped closer, then nudged his head toward my bedroom. “Bed still comfortable?”

“Yeah. Same bed too.”

“Good.” He smirked.

Without another word, I kissed him. He kissed me back, quickly sliding his hands up my arms to grip my shoulders. We didn’t break the kiss as he guided me back toward my bedroom. I grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him closer. The heat between us grew as we stumbled a little, and the edge of the bed bumped against the back of my legs.

When we finally pulled apart, his breath came in quick pants, and his forehead pressed against mine. We stood there for a second, eyes closed, still holding on to each other, just trying to catch our breath.

“This feels easy,” I murmured and turned on the light on my nightstand.

“Too easy?”

“I don’t know.”

His hand drifted up my neck, thumb brushing under my jaw. “Maybe it’s just supposed to be.”

“Maybe.”

He leaned in again, and I didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to. I kissed him harder this time, like I could make up for every night we hadn’t done this. He grasped the hem of my shirt and slipped it over my head.

He let the shirt fall wherever and shoved me back onto the bed. I hit the mattress hard. The second he straddled my hips, he kissed me again.

I slid my hands under his shirt, feeling the heat of him, the strong lines of his back and shoulders. I needed more. Needed him.

“Off,” I breathed against his mouth, tugging at the fabric.

He grinned as he yanked it over his head and tossed it aside. My hands were on him before his shirt even hit the floor, sliding over his chest, tracing the V of his hips, memorizing every inch all over again.

He leaned down to brush his mouth against mine. “I missed this.”

“Me too,” I whispered back.

He took my mouth again, deeper this time, making me feelevery second we’d lost. Neither of us rushed. It wasn’t just about getting off; it was aboutthis. Aboutus.

His lips moved down my throat, across my chest, biting lightly at my skin until I was arching into him. I fisted my hand through his hair as he went lower.