“I need to hear you say it, Joss. I need the words. Need to know you’re here with me.”
Where else could I possibly be? I am lost in him, in this moment, in his touch. The words slip from me like a prayer. “Touch me.”
His lips slant over mine.
This kiss is soft and languid. Almost like dancing with a new partner when you’re still figuring each other out. His hand slides to cup my face, and I melt into him with a sigh. The parting of my lips flips a switch and we both become more insistent, unrelenting, in our attempts to get closer. We roll as one until he’s braced above me with a hand on either side of my head, my thighs hugging his hips where they press into mine.
He takes my mouth with kisses that are barely on this side of control. His tongue ravishes my mouth, and I nip at it. He responds by sucking my bottom lip between his teeth. It’s push and pull, adifferent kind of dance now. Our chests heave against each other, sharing the same air, and it’s not enough. I pull at his hair with both hands, looking for purchase in a moment when I feel untethered from myself and everything around me.
He releases my mouth and moves down the side of my neck. Oh god, I’m going to combust. Just burst into flames right here and incinerate us both. His lips are thorough as they wander. Side of my neck—nip, kiss, suck. Collarbone—nip, kiss, suck. Shoulder—nip, kiss, suck. Hollow of my throat. Down my sternum. Each touch leaves flushed, sensitive skin in its wake.
He stops where my cami covers my heaving chest.
“Is this okay?” he asks quietly. How he seems so in control, I’ll never know.
I wish I could say the same for myself. I am a mess of want, and my whole body shivers as his breath falters against my heated skin. His eyes lift just enough to meet mine, questioning. I give another nod, words still failing me. If I had the brain power to form words, I’d be talking myself out of this whole thing, but unfortunately—orfortunately,rather—I don’t.
“You are so damn beautiful.”
I flush a deeper shade of red, the unexpected compliment taking me by surprise. I close my eyes, feeling suddenly shy, exposed. I have never been more vulnerable with a man than I have been with Wes. The thought scares me as much as it excites me. Because this is Wes. My best friend. Oh god, what are we doing?
My lungs catch, unable to breathe, as his teeth graze the top of my tank, catching the fabric between them. His fingers loop around each strap, peeling them down inch by inch—
Knock, knock, knock.
The neckline of my cami snaps back against my skin while Wes’s fingers freeze, straps pulled just to the tips of my shoulders. His head lifts until our gazes lock. The quiet is deafening. Maybe we imagined it?
Knock, knock, knock.
We startle at the sound, as if we weren’t expecting it to come a second time. His fingers slip away as he pushes himself up, bracing on both hands and head snapping toward the source of the noise.
The burning heat of the moment turns to ice. Not from the heavy dose of reality at what we were about to do, the line we almost just crossed. No. It’s the voice I hear that acts as a frigid plunge pool to my body, my mind. Everything inside me goes numb in an instant as my mother calls my name from beyond the front door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Joss
No. No, no, no,no.
She’s early and I’m not prepared. We were supposed to have time this morning. I was supposed to formulate a rock-solid plan, and now I’m out of time.
Wes’s head hits my chest with a little groan and I want to laugh, I really do. But I can’t.
“She’s early,” I choke out, my voice sounding far away even to my ears. We both look at the clock at the same time. Ten a.m. Two hours, we should have two more hours. We also well and truly missed dawn patrol. Whoops.
“I’ll get it,” Wes says, and pushes himself off the bed.
His eyes linger over my body, splayed out in nothing but my underwear and cami. A burn re-emerges, my skin heatingin direct correlation to the path of his gaze. I can see the desire there and know it’s mimicked in my own eyes.
Another knock sounds across the space, and I wince. My brain wakes up to the fact that I can’t avoid this any longer. The last thirty-six hours have been an oscillation of worry over this visit and living in wishful ignorance that it would never come. Well, it has. And I can’t hide behind Wes for this.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll get it,” I say, sliding out of the bed in his wake.
My feet hit the floor, toes scrunching in the soft carpet. My jeans lie splayed next to the bed. I pull them on in a rush, grabbing a discarded hoodie of Wes’s. The smell of him, masculine and heady, fills my nostrils, and I give myself just one second of bliss to breathe him in.
I catch a glimpse of Wes in grey sweatpants, a T-shirt in his hand, walking from the closet as I head out of the bedroom. Another knock penetrates the silence. God, talk about impatience.
“Joss, wait.”
