Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating(68)

I’d be celebrating, but my orgasm is right there

right here

and my back arches away from the mattress as I start to come. Josh grunts out these soft, encouraging words as pleasure bursts through me, rippling on, and on, and on and finally I feel him go tight everywhere—inside me and under my hands and against my thighs. I hear the catch in his throat, his relieved “Yes,” and then he’s shaking through a long groan, pressed so deep inside.

Carefully, he unhooks my legs and lowers his body so we’re chest to sweaty chest. Josh kisses me through sharp, jagged pants. “I’d planned for that to be more lovemaking and less … desperate fucking.”

A tiny thrill works its way through me at the rare curse word from his lips. “You will hear no complaints from me.”

Carefully he pulls back, watching his body’s retreat while I watch his face. I love his little frown, his tiny grunt as he slips from me.

His frown deepens and he reaches down, touching me. “Did I hurt you?”

“No?”

He looks up. “Okay. You sure?” He holds up his fingers. “You’re bleeding.”

..........

Don’t panic.

Don’t panic.

I grabbed my phone on my sprint into the bathroom, and am now sitting on the toilet, madly Googling bleeding in pregnancy.

The results are reassuring. Apparently it’s common. Apparently it happens in about one-third of all pregnancies. And especially early.

But it can also be a sign that something is wrong,

and it wasn’t a little bit of blood,

it was all over my sheets,

and I can’t breathe.

I dial my doctor’s after-hours number, and speak as softly into the phone as I can.

Yes, nine weeks.

Yes, I saw the doctor yesterday.

No, there isn’t any cramping.

After a few words of quiet reassurance, I’m told to do my best not to worry, to rest, and am scheduled to come into the office tomorrow morning.

I end the call just as Josh’s voice comes through the closed door. “Haze?”

I look up and try to sound as calm as possible. “Hey. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Oh my God, what do I do? He loves me. I mean, I don’t think he’ll be angry that I’m pregnant. Instinct and my intricate knowledge of Josh Im’s brain tell me he’s actually going to be really happy. He wants a family. But what if I lose it? I know this sort of thing happens all the time, so is it worth telling him and getting his hopes up that everything might be okay if I’m going to lose my monster? Oh God, I want to shred the walls just thinking it. What if I lose it what if I lose—

I close my eyes. Take a deep breath.

“Hazel.” I hear his head thunk against the door. “I’m so sorry.”

I take a deep breath, standing to splash some water on my face. “It wasn’t you,” I croak.

Silence. And then, “I mean, I’m pretty sure it was me and the hard sex we just had.” He pauses. “Can I come in and, um …?”

Oh crap, that’s right. He’s got blood on him. I open the door and he slips in, kissing me. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m totally fine!”

“Okay, good.” With one more kiss, he leans past me to turn on the shower.

I stand and press my face to his back, between the bulk of his shoulders. “Sorry.”

Josh turns, tilts my face up to look at him. “For what?”

“Bleeding on you. Sprinting out of bed.”

His brows pull down. “I don’t mind that. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Tell him.

Tell him.

Talk to Dr. Sanders first.

“I’m okay.”

He bends, kissing me slowly, and then steps into the shower, pulling me in after him.

Steam fills the room as he lathers the soap in his hands, rubbing it first over my shoulders and breasts, and then gently between my legs and along my thighs before washing his own body.

Staring up at him as he washes his stomach, cock, and chest, I note the way the drops of water build on his eyelashes and then fall, like rain. “You said you love me.”

He looks up, blinking away the water. His lashes are long, and clumped together. He is so beautiful.

Josh leans forward, kissing my nose. “I did.”

I stretch, and his mouth is slippery against mine, his tongue tastes like water. His hand slides over my backside, slipping between, stroking, feeling, and then slides up my back, down between my breasts, like he’s acquainting himself with every tiny curve.

Josh Im loves me.

“I love you too, you know.”

His kiss turns into a smile. “Yeah?”

“I’ve probably loved you longer.”

A trickster grin. “Probably.”

I pinch his splendid ass for that and he growls, pressing into me.

“We don’t have to make love again,” he says quietly into my neck. “You just feel so good, all wet and soft.”

After wanting him for so long, I can’t quite wrap my brain around the fact that he’s here, using words like love. Having Josh naked against me isn’t for tonight only. This could be a very, very addicting problem because my desire for Josh is a clawing, impatient, frantic energy: I want him again and again and again.