“Ishouldwalk away.” A loose lock of hair blew into her face, and she swiped it out of her eyes.
He stalked closer. “You shouldn’t walk Ellie, you shouldrun.” He gestured roughly toward himself. “I might disappear at any moment to who the fuck knows where. What can I offer you except grief?”
A tendril of rage unfurled and she crossed her arms, glaring up at him. “Is that a threat?”
He leaned over her. All heavy muscles and frustration. “It can’t be a threat if I’m not real, can it?”
She barked out an incredulous laugh. “You’re insulted? Because I’m questioning my sanity? That’s”—she stabbed toward his chest with one finger, not quite letting it land—“gah. I don’t even know what that is.”
He let out a long, agitated breath. “I’m real. I told you already.”
“Of course you told me,” Ellie snapped. “I invented you. You’re in my head.”
Jon growled. “Itold you. Me.”
She shook her head but didn’t speak the denial. The bleak look of misery he’d quickly suppressed earlier was too painful to risk. She couldn’t bear to be the one who brought it back. Who was she to refute his very existence?
He leaned closer. Close enough for her to see the ticking muscles in his jaw. The flecks of azure in the ocean blue of his eyes. “I. Am. Real.”
She tilted her chin up, looking him in the eye. “Then prove it to me. Show me that you’re not just a creation of my own short-circuiting brain. Because God knows, you’re exactly what I would have imagined.”
He grunted, pausing to watch her. “I’m what you would have imagined?”
She wasn’t backing down now. “Clearly. Since—” She waved her hand in the narrow space between them, showing that his very presence proved her point.
“And you need proof?” he asked, resuming his approach.
“Yes.”
“Fine.” He dropped his hands to her hips and crowded her backward, guiding her over the rutted path until her back hit a tree and she gasped.
She was caught. Trapped. Adrenaline and anger swirled through her. And maybe she would have pushed him away, but as his face came toward hers, a new riot of emotions crowded through his eyes. Want, need, and heat rose with every ragged breath he took. And an answering desire spiraled through her.
His mouth was almost on hers, the air between them shared and hot. But he held himself just millimeters away, his eyes locked on hers.
He held himself still for so long that she thought he might back down. Or—worse—fade away. And suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought that he could slip so easily from her grasp.
She lifted her chin and rose onto her toes, closing the gap, pressing her mouth against his. And her movement unlocked him.
He took her lips. Slowly at first, just sips. As if he was tasting her. As if he needed proof thatshewas real.
She slid her hands up, over his broad shoulders, to his nape, pulling him closer. He grunted, taking more, and their kiss grew hotter. His grip on her hips grew tighter.Hegrew hotter. The cool touch of his skin warmed against hers.
God. Hefeltreal. He felt hard and heavy. His lips were firm and insistent against hers. His hair was soft where she threaded her fingers through it. He smelled of the earthy pines and sun-warmed leaves that surrounded them, with a salty, male base note that was entirely his.
She pushed even closer, needing to be pressed tight against him, giving in to the overwhelming desire to climb up his body and hold him bound against her. He dropped his hands to her outer thighs and hoisted her up higher, pressing her into the tree, pinning her with his weight. Her curves fitted into his body as if he had been made to hold her there, his thick bulk between her legs.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. Ignoring the ache in her ribs. The rest of her achedmore.
She could feel his length even through their jeans as their kiss grew more desperate. More ferocious. Full of nipping teeth and sliding tongues and wet heat. Her hands were in his hair, his fingers gripped her thighs, tilting her to just the right angle as he rocked against her, driving her higher as she squirmed against him, needing more. Needing skin. “Jon,” she whispered, “God. I need?—”
“It’s Josh,” he muttered.
They both froze, their rough breathing too loud in her ears. She pulled back far enough to look into his eyes. “What did you say?”
“It’s Josh.” He let out a slow breath. And then his eyes crinkled slowly as he almost—but not quite—smiled. “I remembered.”
Chapter Nine
