Page 64 of Long Story Short

I pull back just enough to breathe and get words out. My lips are still barely brushing against his. “Show me,” I beg, my voice shaky but certain. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

He presses his forehead against mine, his breathing completely uneven. “Josie.” He exhales, like my name cost him something to get out. Despite the desperate way he says my name, his grip tightens slightly.

He sighs, his restraint slipping as he pulls my lips to his once again.

This kiss is deeper, more hurried. It’s as if he’s at war with himself, wondering if he should take his time or devour me.

He kisses me with a possessiveness I’ve never felt before. His mouth against mine is a claim. I’ll never forget the way he kisses me.

I get lost in him. In the feeling of the desire coursing through me unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

And I try to memorize every single thing he’s making me feel so I can remember it later when writing. Because how I feel right now—this obsessive desire, like I can’t quite get enough of him—is the beginning of everything I’ve been trying to write.

THIRTY-THREE

TYSON

Maybe I should stop the kiss.

I can’t stop the kiss.

I should stop.

So many things run through my mind the second her lips part against mine again.

It’s not that I don’t want this. Fuck, I want this more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time, if ever.

But I don’t trust myself around her to not take it too far. I want all of her, but I promised myself I’d take it slow with her. I want to take it slow. I don’t want to rush things and lose her, but it’s hard not to want more from her when she’s pretty much undone before me. Not with her looking at me with a softness and a vulnerability I’ve never seen.

But I don’t know if she even understands what she’s asking me for. If we take this all the way and have sex, will she regret it afterward? Think it was too fast? It’d crush me if she did.

My hand stays at the back of her neck as my thumb absentmindedly brushes the tender spot under her ear. I kiss her again, nice and slow, wanting to drag out this moment for as long as I can.

Josie melts into me.

She lets out a soft sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It tightens everything in my chest…and lower. I slide off my stool to get even closer to her. I push my chest against hers until her back is pressed against the edge of the kitchen counter.

Her tongue slides against mine as she lets out another moan, her fingers tightening around the fabric of my shirt. She moves her hips up and down once, the action making all the blood rush to my cock.

My mouth stills against hers. I try to steady my uneven breathing, but it’s no use. I pull away just enough to rest my forehead against hers. “Josie.” Her name comes out like a warning. Like I’m trying to remind both of us of what this is—not that I even really know myself. It’s too soon to ask.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about what it could become.

Her grip on my shirt tightens, like she’s trying to make a point that she isn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads. “Show me.”

Fuck.

She’s unraveling the restraint I’m desperately trying to hold on to.

A low sound comes from deep in my chest. It’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan because I’m all too aware of the effect she has on me.

I lean in and press my mouth to hers again. My tongue pushes into her mouth instantly. The kiss is deep, but measured. She clings to my shirt so tightly that she’s got to be stretching the fabric, but I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Not when she’s holding on to me so desperately.

I keep one hand pressed to the back of her neck to keep her mouth just where I want her while the other slowly slides along her ribs, feeling the soft fabric of her dress, and the warmth of her skin beneath it.

I take my time with the kiss—with touching her.