Taking them two at a time, Gage bounded up the stairs. If he didn’t find a bed in the next thirty seconds he was going to take her right in the middle of the hallway. And while that might have been one of the fantasies his teenage mind had played out all those years ago, he thought he’d gained some control since then. Apparently not. Not where Hope was concerned. At the top of the stairs four doors lined the hallway. Bedrooms? Bathrooms? An office? She saved him by saying, “Last door on the right.” He strode across her bedroom, a red haze of need clouding everything but his focus on her. Her hair was damp against his arm. His own skin felt clammy and tight, as if the rain had pounded straight into his pores. He wanted a shower, but he wanted her more. His knees hit the bed and he dropped her onto the soft surface. But before he could follow her down Hope had already popped back up, her hands grappling with his fly.
