Page 72 of Long Story Short

One hand braces lightly at my hip, while the other gently brushes the damp cloth between my thighs. He’s light with washing me, completely unhurried, taking his time.

I watch him closely as he does it, wondering why I don’t feel as embarrassed as I expected to. I’ve never had someone help clean me up. No one’s even offered. Yet here Tyson is, taking his time and acting like what he’s doing isn’t a big deal, even when it feels like one to me.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say, my words kind of useless because he’s already started.

“I know,” he responds, not looking up. “I want to.”

I want to.

I swallow as my fingers brush lightly against his wrist for a moment before I pull them back. I don’t know why I just did that. I think I’m just unsure of what to do about the feeling building in my chest.

He finishes cleaning me up before tossing the washcloth into a laundry bin in the corner of his bathroom. With him no longer standing between my thighs, I close them, my gaze staying pinned on him.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

He smirks as he closes the distance between us. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he offers. His fingers dance along my hairline as he pushes stray pieces from my face. “I’m the one who made you messy to begin with anyway.”

My cheeks heat at his words. “Well, I’m still saying thank you.” I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in to kiss him.

I can’t help it.

He’s too damn sweet and considerate, and I don’t know how to process the way he makes me feel, but I push that away for now. For tonight, I’m going to enjoy being wrapped up in this bubble with him, not worried about what might happen somewhere down the road if this blows up in both of our faces.

THIRTY-SEVEN

TYSON

I lift Josie from the counter. I could set her feet back on the ground, but that’d mean having to miss the warmth of her body, and I don’t want that.

She lets out the most adorable giggle when she realizes I don’t have any intentions of putting her down. Her legs wrap around my middle as she begins to pepper kisses along my jaw.

I leave my bathroom and step into my bedroom. Luckily, this part of the house hasn’t been touched by renovations yet. I asked Winnie to leave my room for last; that way, things didn’t feel too chaotic.

I walk over to the nightstand closest to us and flip on the lamp. The soft light fills the space as I set her down on the bed.

She sinks into the mattress, her hands still wrapped tight around my neck like she’s not ready to let go.

I don’t move right away.

I can’t.

Not when she’s looking up at me the way she is right now—soft and a little dazed. Her cheeks are still flushed from the orgasm—or maybe it’s something else. Either way, I soak in how beautiful she is in the low light of my bedroom.

I plant my hands on either side of her, caging her in, even though I know I probably shouldn’t. I’m the one who put things on hold between us for the evening, not her.

My gaze drops to her mouth before I force it back up.

Slow.

I demanded we take it slow. I meant it too. It’s just hard to remember why in this moment because of how desperately I want her.

“Want me to get you some different clothes?” I ask, nodding toward the dress she has on.

Josie looks down before meeting my gaze. “Yeah, this might not be the most comfortable to sleep in.”

I nod, although most of the reason I need her in different clothes is so I don’t have to sleep next to her knowing how easy it’d be to slip my hand under the fabric of her dress and say to hell with taking things slow.

“Anything of mine will be too big, but I can try to find something that’ll work.”