Page 90 of Long Story Short

I pull my mouth from hers just to trail it down her jaw, reacquainting myself with every inch of her.

A week away from her shouldn’t feel like this, but it does.

My hand slides down her back, feeling the curve of her waist. I love how I can feel the slight hitch of her breath at the contact and how reactive she is. Every touch, every movement—I soak in every one of her reactions.

“Ty,” she breathes.

I groan at the way she says my name.

My mouth finds her again as my hand slides from her jaw, down her neck. It travels over her shoulder, pulling her closer as she presses into me like she’s been waiting all week for this too.

Her hands move all over me. They’re on my chest, my shoulders, her fingers gripping and pulling at me, like she needs to feel that I’m real—that this is real.

And I get it.

Because I’m doing the same damn thing.

My hand drifts lower down her back before my fingertips slip into the waistband of her shorts. Her breath stutters, making me pause for a second to get a handle on myself.

I rest my forehead against hers at the same moment she lets her fingers dance over the obvious bulge in my pants.

“This is what happens when I don’t see you for a week,” I mutter, my words coming out tight when she runs her fingers over my cock through the fabric again, this time harder.

“Seems like a problem.” Her lips brush against mine as she speaks.

“Yeah, it is,” I agree, unable to fight how badly I want her any longer.

“I think we should fix it,” she responds. Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging slightly, like she’s ready to test the boundary between us.

Or maybe she’s pushing it.

Either way, I’m right there with her.

I grab her waist, my grip tightening as I pull her with me. I pull her farther into the house, away from the door, away from the idea of stopping this, because stopping doesn’t feel like an option right now.

I missed her, and I want her—all of her.

FORTY-TWO

JOSIE

The moment we’re inside his house, something between us shifts.

Outside was like a tease—full of anticipation—as we both danced around what we wanted.

Now, it feels like there’s nothing holding us back anymore.

Tyson doesn’t let go of me, not for a moment.

His hand is firm against my waist as he guides me down the hallway, like he needs even that small amount of contact. I don’t mind it at all, because I need it too.

Even between juggling trying to write whenever I could and keeping an eye on Pop after that mishap at dinner, I still thought of Tyson what felt like all the time. He never really left my mind.

I’m so excited to be around him again. There’s something about his presence that’s calming. It puts me at peace in a way I didn’t even realize until now that I’m back with him.

He pushes his bedroom door open, barely giving it time to close before his hands are on me again. They’re on my face, my neck, pulling me into him like he can’t wait another second.

His mouth crashes against mine. The kiss is all-consuming, nothing like the slow control of before.