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“I know we’ve had our disagreements and that my temper only ignites yours,” he continued, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip nervously, “but I want nothing more than to show you what you mean to me, right now.”
Joshua
Part of me felt like a fool for monologuing my undying devotion to her, but it disappeared when her pink lips parted to murmur one word—“Please.” I hardly felt the ruined tendon in my knee complaining as I shifted again to lean down and kiss Amelia’s rosy cheek.
Lowering to my elbows, I whispered temptingly in her ear, “Please, what?”
I stayed where I was, tucked into the place where her neck and shoulder met as her pulse thrummed against my mouth, greedily inhaling the mingling scents of her perfume and sweat.
Her reply was unwavering but innocent. “Please make love to me, Josh.”
Amelia
Those six little words sealed my fate, destroying the final barrier between Josh and me, removing any obligation we felt to ignore the tension sparking between us. I stared up at the dark-stained ceiling fan, praying that my answer was enough to earn Josh’s lips upon mine. And it was.
In the next heartbeat, he was hovering over me again, blocking out the light streaming from the ceiling and shrouding me in his shadow. Then, achingly, painstakingly, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to my lips. The stubble decorating his jawline tickled my skin as he became more insistent in his kisses, more hungry, as our mouths and tongues and teeth collided fervently.
I almost forgot he was injured until Josh ground his hips against my core and let out a wounded groan. “Hey, uh, Red,” he panted, pulling back to give me a view of his chest hair where it peeked out from beneath his shirt, “d’you think we could move this to the bed?”
Biting my lip at his invitation, I slipped out of his embrace and knelt, lifting Josh to stand with my hands securely beneath his arms. The two of us shuffled over to his sofa bed, trading secret looks of appreciation, and as soon as we were splayed out on his meticulously-made sheets, Josh pulled me into his lap.
Reaching above him to grab a pillow for his head, I squealed at the feeling of Josh nipping at the exposed flesh of my breasts where they hung enticingly in my sports bra just below his nose. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” He smirked, and in retaliation I tossed the retrieved pillow to the side to grind against the growing hardness beneath me.
“Speak for yourself,” I teased, smiling at the breath I punched out of Josh at the reaction. The mischief flickering in my eyes was reflected in his and we spent the rest of the day discovering what other retaliations we could pull from each other.
Chapter Nine
Amelia
Iwaitedtwoweeksto tell Natalie—not because I felt a sense of shame over sleeping with Josh or because I couldn’t handle her disapproving stare, but because Josh and I were having the kind of fun I didn’t want to ruin. And I knew, as surely as he did, that the minute other people knew about our less-than-professional relationship, it’d be over.
For one, Dr. Morales wouldn’t let me continue to work with a man I’d fallen in love with because of bias (and, I selfishly hoped, out of jealousy). He’d learn about us from Natalie who, for all her good intentions, was never good at keeping secrets.
Then there was Laila, Josh’salmostex-wife, who could make his life hell if she found out purely because they hadn’t fully filed their divorce papers yet.
And, if I was being perfectly honest, it was hard to think about sharing the news when Josh was constantly pushing me to the edge of pleasure. For all my jokes about him being fifteen years older than me, Josh knew things guys my age didn’t, and what he didn’t have in stamina, he made up for in enthusiasm. Not a day went by without us tangled in my sheets or his sheets or on the couch or spread out across the kitchen counter.
After every one of our trysts, Josh further amazed me by taking care of the little details that might otherwise be forgotten—a glass of water, a washcloth, and warm embraces full of endearments.
Our dynamic had shifted so drastically that I sometimes forgot that the Josh I’d met months ago could be grouchy and overly flirtatious at times. Now that we were lovers, Josh promised that he would try to work on his temper—his charming nature was no longer a problem—and I didn’t want to push my luck by causing drama.
Unfortunately, where Natalie was horrible at keeping secrets, she was fantastic at wheedling them out of other people. So when I went to visit her during one of Josh’s afternoon meetings, I should have known that I wouldn’t be leaving without telling her everything.
I’d done my best to cover up the amorous marks Josh had left on me and I’d helped him do the same for fear that someone in the office would alert Laila. “I wish we didn’t have to do this,” Josh had whispered as I used my concealer to hide a hickey on his neck. “Makes me feel like a teenager again, having your bruises on my skin.”
“I’ll just have to leave more when you get home,” I’d reassured, kissing the tip of his dignified nose and delighting in the flush that spread across his cheeks. Josh’s cupid’s bow lips had spread into a smile and his hands had settled on my waist possessively before I reminded him how little time we had.
Now I was here, sitting across from my sister at her and Benjamin’s new table which didn’t creak or have coffee stains like our old one. I listened patiently while she told me about how all my old clients were doing—“Leon misses you terribly,” she informed me—and I had to hide the twinge of humiliation I felt at leaving the clinic so abruptly.
After filling me in on the secretary’s latest beau and how Dr. Morales would talk her ear off with questions about how I was doing—“Santiago asks at least once a day if I know when you’ll be coming back”—her eyes lit up naughtily. “How are things with Mr. Adams?”
Her bloodhound-like instincts had already alerted her to my indiscretion, it seemed, but I still tried to throw her off the scent. “Oh, he’s doing much better now that he doesn’t have to travel for care.”
An idea came to me unexpectedly and I rushed through my question, nervously hoping that appealing to her intelligence would get Natalie to drop the subject. “I’ve been struggling with getting him to use the stairs again, though. Do you have any tips?”
My older sister tapped her manicured nails against the oak wood separating us and with a Cheshire grin, posed her own inquiry. “Are you sleeping with him?” As I tried to come up with an answer, her eyes searched my face and neck for proof and I thanked my earlier self for doing damage control.
“No, we aren’t,” I lied, bringing my hands into my lap so she couldn’t see my fingers twisting together like they did when I was anxious. “We just have a really strong connection and I think he trusts me a lot.”
