Page 135 of When Love Takes Root

“Then come here, baby.”

I met him halfway.

The kiss started soft, but there was nothing uncertain beneath it. His mouth brushed mine once, twice, then stayed like he’d been waiting all night to take his time. I slid my hands into his braids and pulled him closer, and a rough sound moved through his chest before he caught my bottom lip between his. Not hard. Not careless. Just enough to make my breath leave me in pieces.

Josiah rose from the floor without breaking the kiss and sat on the edge of the bed. His hands came to my face first, thumbs beneath my jaw, holding me steady while his mouth moved over mine with slow, focused heat. Then his palms slid beneath the loose edge of my sweater, warm against my shoulders, circling there until my body started leaning toward him before my pride could organize itself.

His voice rasped against my mouth. “I don’t rush what I plan to keep.”

He kissed the corner of my mouth, my jaw, then beneath my ear, lingering there until my fingers tightened in his shirt. His mouth trailed down the side of my neck, kiss after kiss, unhurried and devastating, while his hands moved over my shoulders, down my arms, around my waist, across my back. He touched me like he was learning me.

I tipped my head back.

Josiah murmured against my skin. “There you go.”

My eyes closed.

His hands tightened at my waist, not enough to trap me, only enough to remind me he was there. Watching everything I gave away without words.

He kissed his way back to my mouth, and I opened for him with a sound I couldn’t catch in time. His hand slid to my back, thumb brushing beneath the band of my bra, and the small pause that followed had my pulse stumbling.

“I want this off,” he uttered.

“Take it off.”

The words left me breathless, but they were mine.

His eyes darkened.

He lifted the sweater slowly, watching my face as the fabric slipped over my head and fell somewhere beside us. Cool air brushed my skin. His gaze lowered, and the hunger in his face made my nerves flare, but he didn’t let me hide from it. When my hands twitched toward my chest, he caught them and kissed my knuckles.

Josiah’s voice scraped low. “Don’t cover what I’m trying to honor.”

My throat tightened.

“You’re gorgeous, Celeste.”

His mouth returned to mine, deeper now, and his palms moved over my waist, my back, my hips, my stomach. He didn’t grab at me like he was taking inventory. He learned me with pressure and patience, like every curve gave him another reason to slow down instead of hurry. When his fingers found the clasp of my bra, I answered before he could ask.

“Yes.”

His breath left him hard.

The straps slid down my arms. The bra followed. Then his hands covered my breasts, warm and sure, and my back arched before I could pretend I was still composed.

Josiah watched my face while his thumbs moved in slow circles. He massaged me with a rhythm that made my body loosen and tighten at the same time, pleasure gathering beneath every touch. His mouth moved down my neck again, along my collarbone, then lower. When his lips brushed the curve of my breast, I gasped and gripped his shoulders.

His eyes lifted to mine. “Still with me?”

“Yes.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth returned to my skin, warm and deliberate. I felt his beard against my chest, his breath along my stomach, his hands at my hips, and the room narrowed to the places he kissed and the places still waiting for him.

We undressed slowly, with breathless laughter when denim caught on my ankle and I muttered something unholy beneath my breath. Josiah laughed against my thigh, and I covered my face because there was no dignity available when a woman was half naked and emotionally compromised before sunrise.

He kissed my knee. “You fuss at everything.”