A tsunami crashes through my stomach, and I nod.
“Good.” His lips tip up. “I’m about to remind you anyway.”
“What—?”
He’s out of the car and opening my door before I can finish the question. I yelp when he hauls me into his arms, my legs automatically wrapping around his hips, and he shuts the door quietly behind me.
“Shh,” he murmurs into my ear, “you’re gonna get me in trouble making noises like that.”
Then his lips are crushing mine, his tongue pushing inside and colliding with my own. Just like that, the whole world tips and rocks under me while I’m lit on fire. He walks as he kisses me, taking long strides past the main house. My hands slip into his hair, my panties rubbing against his jeans with every step.
We’re both breathing heavily by the time we reach his door and he digs his keys out of his pocket.
“Joshua,” I pant, but he kisses me harder, making me melt. “Are—you—sure—?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t know—what I—was gonna say.”
He grunts, shoving the door open then kicking it shut behind us. His hands slide under my dress and grip my ass in that way I love, pulling a moan from my throat.
“Whatever it is,” he says into my mouth, “I’m fucking sure.”
He walks us to his couch, which I’ve learned unfolds into his bed. Keeping our bodies melded together, he lowers me onto my back. While he tugs my panties off, I reach between us, working on his jeans. But when he drags his hot, frenzied mouth along my jaw, my neck, like he has a sweet tooth and my skin is made of honey, my eyes flutter shut, and I can no longer focus on fumbling with his zipper.
“Did I ever tell you,”—sucking the base of my throat, his fist finds my hair, and he pulls until my neck’s fully exposed—“you smell like coconuts?”
My laugh turns into a thick moan when his strong hand connects with my slit, rubbing and caressing before his fingers dip slightly inside, teasing.
“I was wrong,” he rasps. “You’re saltwater and daisies. Fucking sunshine in a bottle.”
I smile, about to respond, but pleasure rips through me when his fingers dive in, stroking deep and long. Every time he sinks deeper, my core quivers and tightens. Then his mouth is back on mine, his tongue matching the rhythm of his fingers. I rock against him, delicious sensations already knotting in my belly, but he pulls out without warning, and protest screams in my veins. A small growl escapes me, and he chuckles, the sound rough, breathless, and sexy as hell.
A plastic wrapper tears, then he finishes what I couldn’t with his jeans, unzipping them the rest of the way and yanking them down just enough to spring himself free.
Soon, he’s rubbing his hard length between my legs, his breaths ragged in my mouth as he kisses and sucks like he’s never tasted me before. But I’ve come to learn that’s always how Joshua kisses and touches me—like it’s our first time, and he’s always starving for more.
He pushes the head of his erection just barely inside, then he plunges, long and hard. I cry out, my back arching from the overwhelming fullness. He groans, the sound mixing with a curse.
“Jesus, Blue.” His forehead drops against mine, and his hips roll. “I can never—fuck, I can never get you close enough.”
My stomach clenches as his words blend with his thrusts, soaking into me. His raw, uneven voice rings in my ears,I can never get you close enough, over and over. My heart beats faster, faster. Joshua Hunt, the boy who says addiction runs in his blood from generation to generation. The boy who thinks he doesn’t deserve me. I know it’s not true; he deserves so much more than he believes.
Realization washes over me, slow and sharp, like the calm before a storm.
We both admitted at the start we were going into this blind. Growing up, my only example of a romantic relationship was absence; Joshua’s was a tangled web of cheating, compulsive lust, and broken vows.
I swallow hard, running my fingers up the tense, constricted muscles of his shoulders. I wonder if he’s ever been shown real love before. Not just in the romantic sense, but pure, genuine love. Has he ever felt it? Softening our kiss, I press my hand against his chest. I push. He doesn’t register the shove, continuing to pump into me, deeper and deeper, like he might actually break if he doesn’t get closer.
I push again, this time sitting up slightly as I do.
He stops the kiss to look at me, his eyes heavy and dazed, drunk with need. Breathing hard. His brows crash together when he sees the resolve on my face.
“Lie back, Joshua.”
He stares, confused, biceps flexing as he starts to prowl forward again. But I hold my hand to his chest, keeping him from coming closer.
“Please.”
