I start to move toward him, but he closes the gap first and hikes me up in his arms. His eyes grow darker by the second as he lowers me onto the bed, yanks his own shirt over his head, and takes in the sight of me beneath him. A tremor runs through me at that look, thick with lust, and my pulse quickens in my ears. But I keep my arms at my sides, letting him lead. He leans closer, skimming his nose along my collarbone and breathing me in. His calloused thumb brushes my nipple, tracing a slow circle, and I gasp. Hot breath warms my skin in uneven puffs as he does it again. Then he lowers his head until his face is level with my breasts.
My chest moves up and down, fast and hard, as I watch with heavy-lidded eyes, wondering what he’ll do next.
He closes the space, flicking his tongue over my nipple. When my back arches, a low growl vibrates against me. Without warning, his mouth latches onto my left nipple, sucking and tasting. Soon, he switches to the right, then back again, taking and taking like he’s trying to get both at once, but he lets out a frustrated noise when he can’t.
I drag in a breath at the warm, hungry pull between his teeth. He reaches between us, snapping open the button of my jean shorts, then locks his lips on mine and works my tongue like he’s starving for me.
He wasn’t lying. He’s getting rougher by the second, his shoulders constricting and his hard length digging between my thighs. I’ve always trusted body language over words. That’s how I’m achingly aware of the hold he has over me—by the way my heart jumps when he’s close, the breath he steals when our lips connect, and the heat that floods me when his gaze penetrates mine.
There isn’t a single word that could have prepared me for the way Joshua makes me feel. Not when I first moved here and accidentally spied on him, and not now, between broken gasps, the creaking of my bed, and the crisp night air on our dampening skin.
For every jagged edge he gives me, I give him some of my softness in return. He nips my lower lip, and I gently lick his. He fists my hair, and I glide my fingertips down his tense back. He grinds against me; I find his rhythm. He grinds harder; I try to keep up. Rough sounds climb up his throat, and his hands find my waist, hips, thighs—grabbing, claiming, stroking.
When he hooks his thumb around my shorts and panties, I lift my hips and let him slide them off. He’s sitting up before they even reach the floor, already working on his own jeans, but he goes stone-still when his gaze catches between my spread legs. His eyes darken, pupils expanding to depths so deep they could consume oceans.
Hot chills erupt, scattering over my naked body.
He lets out a shaky breath, and I know his lungs must be as tight as mine. “Shit ...” he whispers, palming the insides of my thighs. His fingertips dig into me, and he spreads me open further, his gaze locked in place. Then he lowers his face, and my mouth falls open when his tongue strokes me.
“Wha—?” My question turns into a foreign whimper when it happens again, and this time he wraps his mouth around my clit, and my eyes widen as the warmest sparks I’ve ever felt shoot up my core.
He licks, sucks, devours until my hips rock against his face, and his tongue is the only thing that exists. The only thing pumping life through me.
“God, you taste good,” he murmurs against me, the low vibrations making me tremble.
My fingers curl into the sheets, and I want to touch him, I want to see him, but I can’t stop my eyes from rolling back into my head. “Oh, god ...” I bite my tongue to keep quiet, but the tension is blinding, escalating until I’m mind-numbingly aware of every nerve ending I never knew existed. “Joshua...”
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. He pushes and pushes until I come apart, my core tightening so intensely shudders wrack my body. Once my legs stop shaking and my lungs slowly release, I realize my fingers are raw from squeezing the sheets. We’re both panting, and I can’t tell who’s breathing harder.
I stare up at the ceiling even though my senses are too overwhelmed to see it. “That ... that was ...”
Arippulls my cloudy gaze to Joshua as he tears open a condom wrapper while sitting back on his haunches. I gulp when I see his jeans already pulled down. He’s hard—so hard it looks painful—and just as big as I remember. Except somehow it seems so much more daunting now, with my legs open for him, mere inches away.
When I find his face again, a knot forms in my stomach. He’s staring down at the packet in his hand, knuckles white. Bitterness sharpens his features, his jaw set.
“Hey,” I breathe, “what is it?”
His lips thin, and his eyes slowly travel up to meet mine. “You still sure you want this?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.” I don’t even have to think about it.
He flicks his focus back to the condom. “All right.” Then he tosses the packet on the pillow beside my head. A cold chill runs through me at the sudden shadow that overtakes his grey irises. He rasps, “Put it on.”
My pulse spikes to a sprint, sending warning signals to my brain.
His walls have shot up, made of reinforced steel and barbed wire.
I don’t just like sex, he said.One day, the sick part of me is gonna eat me alive.
The knot in my stomach multiplies and twists. Except if he’s so sick, why hasn’t he taken me by now? Why check on me? And why work this hard to stop it? He’s so certain the universe has sewn him together with dark, misshapen parts. But I’m looking, I’m always looking, and these aren’t the actions of a sick or corrupted soul.
His scare tactics won’t work on me.
“Okay.” My hands quiver when I take the opened packet. I pull the condom out, fumbling and stretching the rubbery material. I didn’t do this part before, and I was too high to remember that night properly anyway. I swallow, leaning forward, and lower the condom awkwardly over Joshua’s crown.
He doesn’t move. I’m not sure he’s even breathing.
My fingers tremble under the weight of his undivided attention, and it takes a few tries before they’re steady enough to roll the condom on the rest of the way. When I’m done, I peer up at him.
