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He cut her a look. “You don’t have to thank me for doing what’s only right.”
She shook her head. “That’s exactly why I have to thank you. Just because something is right doesn’t mean someone is willing to back that up. Look at Janice. She knew and did nothing. You, on the other hand, have.”
“After the fact. And too late to protect you from Jamie’s fists.”
Self-hatred filled his tone and she must’ve heard it, either that, or sensed it, because she turned, and her hand came out to cup the one he rested on his knee. She squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t surprise him that she was trying to comfort him when, if anyone deserved comfort, it was her.
“You’re beating yourself up over this, and it’s not necessary. I didn’t come to you, didn’t open your eyes to the truth, to make you feel badly about what Jamie did. How Janice behaved then? It was wrong. That she knew and didn’t help me? Also wrong. You didn’t know. Jamie hid it from you, and I did too. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but not at the expense of you hating yourself over something you could never have prevented.”
“I should have seen it. Should have seen the change in him,” He told her ruefully, and the emotion stemmed not from her words, but from the strength it took not to turn his hand in hers, and to bridge their fingers. He wanted to feel her palm against his with a desire that not only astonished him, but overwhelmed him.
“How could you have seen? What goes on behind closed doors and all that…”
“I was his closest friend. If I didn’t see it, what else was he hiding?”
She grimaced. “I really don’t want to think about it,” she admitted.
“I can’t blame you.”
Samantha sighed again, and as she squeezed his fingers, started to get up. At the same time, he moved onto his feet as well. In the melee of arms and torsos moving and shifting, they ended up leaning against each other as they stood upright.
Too close, he realized. Far too close for his or her own good.
Her scent filled the air around him, and it packed such a wallop he almost choked. He pressed his hand to her arm to steady her, and she did the same; only her hand fell against his chest. Unbidden, his pecs tightened at the delicate touch. The tip of her fingers brushing his shirt, like a butterfly’s wings against the silk, felt as powerful a caress as another woman’s hand around his shaft.
Before he knew what she was about, she’d leaned up on tiptoe. Suddenly in his face, she pressed her lips to his cheek, and whispered, “Thank you, Josh. For everything.”
He could have left it there.
Should have left it there.
She didn’t deserve for him to overpower her with these strange feelings she was building in him. But just like he couldn’t stop his lungs from needing the next breath, he couldn’t stop his head from tilting to the side, couldn’t stop his lips swiping across her cheek, coming to a final halt at hers.
As their mouths touched, he felt her stiffen up. Fully expecting her to reject his touch, he was astonished when she didn’t take a step back. When, if anything, she pressed her other hand to his chest, and the tips of both sets of fingers dug deep into the hardened muscle.
They stood there, breathing in each other’s air, their lips touching in an innocent kiss. So innocent, it reminded him of his first kiss with Eloise Jamison back in second grade. When neither of them had really known what they were doing, hadn’t particularly understood what a kiss was, just knew that it was something everybody was sneaking at that moment.
There was no sensuality to it, not really. It was too chaste, too innocent. And yet, his body responded as though she was doing a striptease in front of him. As though she was actively trying to entice him.
The thoughts built up in his head.
Working him over, seducing him more than she even could.
He shuddered, felt her shiver against him, and then she slanted her head and let him in.
His tongue speared between her lips and thrust against hers. The moan she made nearly broke him. It decimated his control, slammed into him with the force of a freight train.
Her taste, goddamnit, it was like nothing he’d ever known.
>
He groaned into her mouth, loved the noises she made, the whispers and whimpers of sound that escaped her as he made love to her mouth; and that was what they were doing.
This was no hard kiss.
No sloppy tongue fuck between two people who knew the score.
This was gentle, and soft.
