And in that quiet, I saw him.
Not the gruff farmer. Not the careful landlord. Not the man who kept his distance and pretended not to pay attention. He didn’t tell me to calm down or soften my anger or placate me with empty assurances.
He’d given me space to be who I needed to be and do what I needed to do.
My next thought hit me harder than a sledgehammer.
I wanted Josh.
Not just wanted. Needed.
The pull toward him was a strong, steady kind of gravity.
I swallowed, my throat tight. “I don’t know how to say thank you.”
“You don’t have to.”
My nose stung, tears threatening. “Thank you for not trying to fix me.”
His brow furrowed, like the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “I would never.”
With Josh, there were no conditions. No expectations. He stood near the shed, his eyes dark and locked on mine. Not moving, not initiating, but making himself available if I needed him.
“I feel safe with you.” I padded to him.
“I’ll keep it that way,” he promised, his expression solemn.
That was it. The last string holding my reservations together. I could no longer contain my desire. And I was done letting the bad stuff consume all my thoughts.
Because Josh made me brave.
I closed the distance between us, pressing my body to his. His warmth met me before his hands did. Like the other night, he was letting me take the lead. He made me feel more seen than I ever had in my life.
Only when I threw myself into his arms did he touch me, and he lifted me effortlessly as our mouths found one another in a desperate kiss, our teeth clinking ridiculously, the elation bubbling inside me making me weightless in his arms.
“Fuck.” He turned and pushed me up against the shed, taking my mouth. My knees wobbled. Nothing had every felt as good as his lips on mine or the grip of his strong hands on my thighs.
He pinned me with his bulk, his erection digging into me.
“God,” he growled, nipping at my neck. “I could fuck you like this.”
Face buried in my hair, he slowly lowered me to my feet.
“But I won’t.”
A protest clawed its way up my throat. Because at the moment, being fucked like this sounded like an excellent idea.
The wistful smile he directed at me signaled that he was under the impression that the kissing had concluded.
But I had not consented to that.
“I enjoyed the hell out of that.” His dimple was just visible beneath his thick beard. It was adorable. “But I get it. And I’m not asking for anything.”
Annoyance flashed through me. “What If I’m asking?”
“Then I’ll give you anything you want,” he said firmly.
“I want you to fuck me,” I said, a newfound courage overtaking me.
