The elevator doors are barely closed before Josh’s mouth and hands are on me. He backs me into the corner, raking his palms up my back, threading his fingers through my hair. His mouth crashes into mine, his stubble burning my chin—reckless, urgent, real. Soft and savage all at once. My breath catches, years of deprivation unraveling between our lips.
Josh drags his tongue along my neck and jaw, leaving tiny fires in his wake. Our mouths collide; our hands are everywhere. I feel him grow hard and time folds in on itself. It’s messy and breathless, all teeth, tongue, and heat. But it’s familiar—like coming home. And it makes me ache with want.
The elevator dings and the doors open. Josh tears his mouth away from mine, taking my hand and leading me quickly down the hallway—as if the floor is on fire.
We find our room quickly, and Josh fiddles with the keycard. I run my hands up and down his back, under his tight-fitting T-shirt. A low hum starts between my legs in anticipation. The key card doesn’t work at first, blinking red.
Josh lets out a growl as I drag my fingernails down his back. “Come on,” he says to the door. He pauses to kiss me again, softer this time, cupping the back of my head and pulling me to him. “I need you,” he rasps.
Finally, as if the door itself understood his plea, it opens, and we’re in the middle of a swanky hotel room overlooking the night skyline. There’s a black accent wall and a red chaise lounge, but all we notice is the king-size bed.
Josh swallows, letting my hand drop. He takes a step closer to me, cupping my cheek. My pulse speeds up and my breath hitches as Josh plants a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, slow and sensual, prompting me to open for him. Our tongues dance slowly, our breaths mixing, soft and steady.
Josh pulls back, his expression soft. “Mel,” he says, and my name catches in his throat. I let myself believe he’s been waiting for this too.
“I know,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his.
And then his mouth is on mine again, the feel of his hard body tangling excitement and caution together. My heart pounds, like it remembers every kiss that came before this one. All the sadness, the longing, the ache of what we used to share is poured into this moment. Josh’s kiss turns hesitant as his fingers fiddle with the strap of my shortalls. “Do you want this as much as I do?” he growls through fervent kisses.
I nod because I don’t want to pull away. “Uh-huh.” It comes out like a breathless moan.
Josh unhooks the first strap of my shortalls, and it falls to the side. His mouth moves to my bare shoulder, and he kisses it softly, flicking his gaze up to mine. He cups my cheek, softly circling his thumb, and our eyes meet—the unspoken hope that maybe we’re on the edge of rewriting everything.
He unhooks the other strap, and the shortalls fall to the ground. All at once I’m standing there in a lace purple thong and a tight white crop top, but I don’t feel exposed; I feel cherished.
Josh’s breath hitches as he drags his eyes up my body. His fingers graze my hip bone, the urgency from moments ago replaced with something savory. I tug at the hem of his T-shirt, and he helps me pull it off before returning his focus to me. Josh’s mouth finds mine, his teeth nibbling at my lower lip before he drags his mouth across my jaw, down my neck and shoulder. He crouches as he kisses down my body to the hemline of my panties. His tongue grazes the purple lace and he sucks in a breath, cupping my ass.
“May I?” His voice is gravelly. He slips a finger under the lace band and looks up at me for approval.
“Yes,” I breathe. It comes out like a sigh.
That’s all Josh needs to hear because he yanks the purple lace to the floor, simultaneously kissing me from hip to hip. I tug him up off his knees and his mouth finds mine. He grips me tighter as I begin working at the button on his jeans, then the zipper. He steps out of them, never breaking the contact of our thirsty mouths. He pulls the hem of my crop top, and I let him yank it over my head. All that stands between us now is a bra and a pair of boxer briefs stretched with his desire.
We pull apart, assessing each other quietly. I swallow and reach behind me, unhooking my bra. I let it fall to the floor, revealing my breasts, the chill in the room instantly hardening my nipples. Josh lets out a gasp before enveloping one and then the other, sucking each one until soft moans escape me.
I slide my fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, wanting desperately to see the man he’s grown into. His shoulders are broad, and his chest is hairless, save for a light blond happy trail. I tug them down, and my breath catches. Tattooed in black, just beneath the happy trail are our words:
You’re the reason I go on
A gasp falls from my mouth. “That’s…my handwriting.” My voice is barely audible.
Josh clears his throat, looking down at the words etched in his skin. “It is. I took it from the copy of the lyrics you gave me.” His voice is hoarse, thick with emotion.
I run my fingers over the ink and lick my lips. Josh cups the back of my head, pulling my gaze up to his. “You saved the lyrics?” I ask, tears welling in the back of my eyes.
“I saved it all, Mel. Every note we passed, every photo, every lyric.” Josh’s voice catches. He takes a shuddering breath and strokes my cheek with his thumb.
“When did you get it?” I ask, softly.
“My eighteenth birthday,” Josh replies. “My memories of you—they kept me going all these years.”
A stray tear escapes my eye, and my mouth crashes into his, all the hunger and urgency returned. We fall onto the end of the bed, Josh hovering over me.
“Let’s see if we can make up for lost time,” he rasps.
I don’t argue.
22
