Full Package(49)

I hold that thought close as we walk home.

When we reach our building, the mustached doorman gives a quick hello, then points to the elevators. “The main elevator is out of commission. We’re having some work done to it. The service elevator is working, but it’s a bit slow. It should return to the lobby in a few minutes.”

“We’ll take the stairs,” Josie says to him with a smile. “We have strong hearts and good endurance.”

He adjusts his green blazer. “Oh, and Ms. Hammer. The postman delivered something for you. Would you like me to get it from the mail storage room?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll grab it tomorrow. I’m sure it’s the rolling pin I ordered.”

We head to the stairwell, and I open the door, letting her go ahead of me.

As she walks, I enjoy the view of her legs, her ass, her skirt. At the first landing, I grab her hand and pull her back, her chest pressed to me. “You’re the enticing appetizer.”

She sighs sexily and brings her hands to my chest. “So are you.”

Her lips part, and my God, what the fuck am I supposed to do?

But kiss her.

And hold her.

And have her.

And want her.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss at first. A tease. The start of something. And when she murmurs against my mouth, all bets are off. I band my arm around her waist and tug her close, sealing her body to mine. “I’m seriously considering fucking you in the stairwell,” I tell her.

She lowers her hand to the front of my jeans, rubbing the outline of my cock. “Love that idea. But I want to be naked with you.”

I groan and smack her ass. “Upstairs,” I growl. “As fast as you can. Get that dress off and then get on me.”

“Yes, sir.”

She scurries up the next set of stairs, then the next. When we near the fourth floor, she sneaks a glance back. “Peekaboo,” she says, then lifts up the back of her skirt, flashing me her panties.

Her red lace, see-through panties.

Heat roars through me, and instinct takes over. I reach for her, and when my shoe hits the landing, the ankle rolls out, and my foot turns in.

An instant, searing pain rips along my right calf and straight into my ankle, a shot of misery.

“Fuck,” I curse, as my ankle yelps.

Josie flies down the steps in a flurry. “Oh no. Are you okay?”

I wince. “Yeah,” I bite out, bending over to grip my ankle.

Her hand runs up my back, a reassuring pat. “Babe, are you okay? You’re worrying me.”

“Fine,” I mumble.

I straighten, because I can’t be that guy. The helpless guy.

“Let me help you,” she says, moving to my side and draping her arm around me.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Let me help you.” Her voice is firm.

“I swear I’m okay.”

“Stop being such a macho man.”

She wins the battle and walks with me the rest of the way up the stairs as I try not to limp. “It was my butt’s fault,” she says, contrition in her tone. “My cheeks distracted you.”

I dart a hand down to squeeze one. “Your butt is worth a twisted ankle.”

When we reach the apartment, the pain shoots through me once more, and I pretty much limp inside, Josie holding open the door.

“Go sit,” she directs, pointing. “On the diddle couch.”

I do, plopping down on the soft cushions. I’m grateful to be surrounded by all these pillows. I lift my right ankle onto the coffee table as Josie sets her hands on my shoulders. “Tell me what you need. Ice, I presume?”

I nod. “Ice and ibuprofen, too. And elevation. But I took care of that part.”

She marches to the bathroom and returns quickly with two pills and a cup of water. I down the ibuprofen. She rounds the corner into the kitchen and reappears seconds later with a hand towel and an ice pack. She wraps the towel over the pack, takes off my shoes and socks, and pushes up the bottom of my pant leg. She parks herself on the table and presses the pack gently to my ankle.

“Ouch! It’s freezing.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s supposed to be frozen. It’s ice.”

“It’s so cold.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible patient?”

I frown. “I try to never be the patient.”

A soft smile plays on her face. “But this time, you have a nurse who offers a special brand of TLC.”

And my foot isn’t cold anymore. In fact, it barely hurts at all when Josie rests the ice on my foot, cuddles up by my side, and kisses the hell out of me.

Ten minutes later, my foot is frozen, but everything else is on fire.

“You going to be okay?” she asks.

“I’ll live,” I say with a pout. There’s one good thing about twisted ankles—the recovery time is quick. There’s a bigger problem, though, in my pants. I cast my gaze to my hard-on. “But can you do anything about this new issue you’ve created?”

A grin spreads on her face. “That is my special nursing talent,” she says, standing and stripping. With each shred of clothing that comes off, I’m harder and more aroused. How that’s possible, I don’t know. But that’s the Josie effect. She does this to me, and I help her along by unzipping my jeans and pushing them to my knees.