I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut. I wanted to pull my hands away and lock them behind my back to keep them from sliding around her waist like they were. I wanted to keep from looking into her eyes. But I couldn’t. I was a strong, stubborn man save for one thing: Josie Gibson.
Pushing on my chest, Josie laid me down. Having her on top of me, looking down at me with so much love in her eyes it practically suffocated me, I almost slipped. I almost said it. Those three words I’d been choking back for years. And years. And years. I almost said those words, but I didn’t. I knew if I did, good-bye would be impossible. If I ever let Josie know how I truly felt about her, she wouldn’t let me go. I wouldn’t let myself go.
Her eyes explored me, inspecting each bruise and bandage, before she leaned over and kissed each and every one. Her hair skimmed my chest, creating goose bumps. When her kisses moved from my chest down my stomach, I stopped breathing altogether. When Josie’s mouth had touched every hurt on my body, her mouth moved a bit lower.
“Josie,” I sighed in a strained voice, tangling my fingers through her hair.
I felt her smile curve into position before her tongue pressed into the spot just above my button fly. The willpower it took to keep from throwing her on her back and slamming inside of her two seconds later was the kind of thing men only knew of in legends. Stories told around a campfire about a man who was able to lay still and resist the woman of his fucking dreams naked and straddling him as her tongue explored the skin a whole inch north of his hard dick.
My hands slid down her waist until they had a firm hold of her backside, and when my fingers moved a bit lower, it was painfully obvious she was as ready for me as I was for her. And still, the legendary willpower stood. My idea of restraint had always been slowing down enough to roll on a condom, and there I was, still half dressed and promising myself I’d stay that way.
When Josie’s mouth had made the return journey, her face lifted above mine. Her smile and playful eyes were back. “Sorry, I missed a few spots.” Slowly, she kissed every bruise and gash on my face as she had my body. The only part she missed was my lips. When her lips slid from my jaw to my mouth, they paused. “I love you, Garth.”
It was as painful as it was overwhelming to hear those words. “Josie, no. Don’t—”
“Too late,” she replied right before her mouth covered mine.
She kissed me until I’d forgotten why I needed to say good-bye—I almost forgot my own damn name. She kissed me like she’d waited a lifetime to do just that, and I kissed her back like I’d have a whole lifetime to live without ever kissing her again. It was surreal in a way only a person who’d loved another their whole life could understand. Josie and I kissed for so long I almost forgot she was naked and ready above me. Almost. When her lips skimmed past my jaw and down my neck, her fingers trailed down my stomach until they tugged on my fly.
Oh, shit. I knew I needed to stop, I knew that . . . I just couldn’t remember why. Once my fly was open, Josie’s hand gripped me, moving steadily up and down until I was gasping. When my gasps turned into loud moans, Josie’s mouth moved back to mine, silencing my cries of pleasure and pain with her kisses. I might not have been able to remember why I needed her to stop, but knowing I needed to stop it was enough. That made what should have been pleasurable, painful and what was painful, pleasurable. It was a fucking train wreck of pain and pleasure and touch that I never wanted to walk away from.
As Josie’s hand moved faster, I had to grit my teeth and move my hands from her ass or else I would come right then. If I was going to come with Josie, it wouldn’t be in her hand.
In one seamless move, I had her on her back. I braced myself over her, my hips locked so closely together with hers, one small movement would put me inside of her. Exactly where I didn’t only want to spend the rest of the night, but the rest of my life. All the possible conquests in my future didn’t hold a candle to the way I felt being so close to Josie, knowing she loved me and I fucking worshipped her.
Kissing her once more, I leaned back just enough to stare at her. I wanted to look into her eyes, and I wanted her to look into mine. She wasn’t drunk, she wasn’t with Jesse, and it wasn’t strictly a moment of reckless abandon. I wanted to look into her eyes when I took her so I could see exactly what it felt like to know she was making love to me just like I was making love to her .
It would be a first, and one I knew I’d never forget.
Then, almost like a spotlight, a beam of moonlight broke through the window and illuminated Josie’s face. Where the bruise taking up one whole cheek was darkening. My stomach twisted right after it clenched. I remembered what happened and why we couldn’t do it. Now. Or ever. I might not have directly caused it, but Josie wore that bruise because of me. I moved to roll off of her, but her legs wound around me and didn’t let me go.
“What? What is it?” she asked.
I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see what my shit-poor luck had done to Josie, but then I forced them open and made myself look so I’d never forget. So if I ever got the tiniest inclination to throw myself back into Josie’s life, I’d remember the image of her bruised face below me then. “It’s just . . . what happened . . .” The skin between her eyebrows wrinkled. I lifted my thumb to the wrinkle, trying to erase it. “Mason. I can’t stop thinking about what—”
“Colt and me?” she interjected. “Is that what you’re worried about? Colt and me and what happened between us?”
I took a moment to figure out what she meant. “Well, shit . . . No, that wasn’t what I was thinking, but now I am.” I’d never asked Josie about her and Colt’s relationship for two reasons. One, because it was none of my goddamned business. And two, because I didn’t want to know a goddamned detail. Even thinking about Colt Mason’s hands running down the same areas mine just had or about his . . . inside of her . . . I punched the mattress beside her head, trying to get the image out of my mind.
“Garth, stop. There’s no need to get all worked up.” Her hands formed around my face, and she waited for my eyes to shift back to hers.
“No need to get worked up? Another man being with you . . . Another man being . . . intimate with you . . . It’s a lot for me to process, okay? Let’s just leave it at that and forget about it. Forget forget about it.” Truly, if I never had to experience the image of Colt naked and braced over Josie the way I was, that was just fine by me.
“There’s nothing to get worked up about and nothing to forget”—she shook her head when I raised an eyebrow—“or forget forget because nothing ever happened.”
I know I was one flex and slide away from being buried inside of Josie, but I liked to think my brain didn’t strictly run off whatever my dick was doing—or almost doing. But what had Josie just said? Surely she couldn’t have meant . . . “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I don’t know. Are you asking me what I think you’re asking?”
“Okay, I was confused before, but now I’m positively dumbfounded.” I slid Josie’s hair back from her forehead and waited.
“Colt and I never . . .” Biting her lip, she shrugged.
“You and Colt never slept together?” Because I needed it spelled out—especially when it came to the topic at hand.
Josie shook her head. “No.”
If my body hadn’t been beaten to a pulp earlier, I would have attempted a back handspring. “Then who was the last guy you slept with?” I skimmed through my memory banks. Other than Jesse and Colt, I couldn’t recall Josie being with anyone else. I couldn’t remember her being with anyone but . . . I arrived at my conclusion the instant before she replied.