Page 66 of Long Story Short

She wants this.

She wants me.

Maybe I wrongly assumed she didn’t understand what she wanted, because her words come out confident and clear. And that, paired with the way she holds my hand to her inner thigh, makes me finally believe she wants this as badly as I do.

My chest tightens again. Maybe it’s the last of the control I was desperately trying to hold on to breaking.

“You’re right,” I mutter. Our lips still barely brush as I say it. There’s almost no space between our bodies, and she still feels too far away.

I kiss her again, deep and hard, letting go of the control I’ve been holding on to all night.

“Taking it slow with you,” I continue, my grip tightening on her thigh, “doesn’t feel right at all.”

THIRTY-FOUR

JOSIE

I don’t know what has more of an effect on me—his mouth or his words. Or maybe it’s his fingers.

All I know is I’m completely overwhelmed by the desire taking over my entire body.

It builds and builds, tight and completely unrelenting, like a rubber band that’s been stretched too far, ready to snap.

There’s an ache between my thighs that borders on painful. I want to press my legs together to chase some kind of relief, but I can’t. Not with Tyson between them. Not when I don’t want him to move.

I want the opposite.

I want him as close as possible.

“Ty,” I breathe against his lips, my voice barely there.

He stills for a moment, just long enough for me to ache for more. Then his mouth leaves mine as he drags it slowly along my jawline instead. The small trail of kisses makes my breath catch.

“Oh, the things you do to me when you call me that,” he murmurs, his voice rougher now. His grip tightens on my inner thigh. There’s a tightness in his features—and an air around us that’s almost palpable—that makes it clear he’s still holding himself back. I try not to smile at knowing that this is affecting him just as much as it is me.

His mouth moves to my neck, his movements so slow and deliberate. He starts out with a soft kiss—but then there’s teeth.

I gasp, my fingers gripping at his hair as pleasure moves through my entire body—the feeling sharp and hot all at once.

He soothes the pain with his tongue immediately. He softly runs his tongue over the tender spot as he lets out a satisfied groan, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

His other hand works hard at teasing me by dragging this out. He traces slow circles along the inside of my thigh, so close it’s almost cruel.

“There are so many things I want to do to you,” he announces, his lips moving against my collarbone. He slowly pushes me down onto the counter, his mouth still moving along my skin, leaving agonizing pleasure in its wake.

I want to speak up and tell him to do them, but I can’t form words. Not with the way his fingers slip underneath the strap of my thong.

He hooks his finger around the fabric, but leaves it there for a moment as a tease.

“Ty,” I say again, somehow unable to come up with any other words than his name. He’s just so close to touching me where I want him most, and I’m desperate for it. So desperate that I don’t even care that the counter is cold against my back and that he’s about to have me spread open in his kitchen like I’m the dessert.

Coldness hits my face as Tyson stands to his full height. He keeps one hand hooked around the fabric of my thong. The other moves from the back of my neck. He brushes his knuckles against my cheek softly, his gaze locked on mine as he lets his hand explore.

I can’t look away from him. His pupils are so dilated I can barely see the denim-blue irises I can’t stop thinking about. Something shifts in his expression. There’s an intensity in it that has me more than ready to find out how he’ll put that intensity to good use.

His thumb presses lightly on my lip before slipping away. His attention drops to his hand—as if he wants me to feel where his gaze moves.

“What are you doing to me?” he rasps. The words come out so quiet, I can’t help but wonder if I was supposed to even hear them in the first place.