The Friend Zone(70)

He collapsed and we clutched each other, catching our breath, his forehead to mine in a light sheen of sweat. It took me a solid minute to muster the ability to speak. “I thought you were sick,” I breathed. “Faker.”

His chuckle rumbled against my breasts. “All part of my ploy to get you to come over.”

I laughed and he squeezed his arms against my sides and smiled down on me, kissing me softly, his heart beating against my chest.

I love you, Josh. I wish I could tell you. I wish I could keep you.

With a twinge of dread, I wondered how I would live without these moments when it all came to an end. I’d have to enjoy every second of the next week and a half with him. Absorb it, store it up.

And then hope it was enough to last a lifetime.

*



We’d been in his bed for hours. We never did that at my house. There were always too many excuses I could come up with for why we had to go back to friends-only mode. Emails to check, deliveries to sign for, orders to work on. And once we left the bed, my rules dictated that the affection had to stop. But here, we had nothing to do but stay between the sheets. Josh didn’t have a sofa or a TV, so we hung out under the covers, and technically, according to my own rules, that meant that kissing and affection were okay.

I was enjoying the loophole. I needed every second of it.

Josh didn’t seem to object either. We’d been having sex all day. After our quickie, we’d had a long, slow marathon, full of deep kissing and gentle rocking, followed by a giggling and playful romp with Josh tickling me mercilessly before he took me from behind. After we wore each other out, we’d lain there, our legs tangled together, talking about everything we did over the last two weeks. He told me about the strike team and how much he liked being in the woods and not running medical calls. How beautiful Sequoia National Park had been and how much I would have liked a band that played in a bar they went to in their off-hours.

I told him all about the wedding errands I’d been on with Sloan and dropping off a large order at Dale’s mansion and how Stuntman had bit the FedEx guy again.

He didn’t bring up calling me from Vegas, thank God. He probably didn’t remember.

He ran a knuckle along my cheek. “I’m going to get a drink. Are you thirsty? Want something?”

“Water.”

He got up and I propped myself up on my elbows to watch him walk naked to the kitchen. You could bounce a nickel off the man’s ass. God, he had a great body.

Mine, not so much.

I had to make my own naked walk to the bathroom in a minute, and my little stomach bulge had no business strutting around uncovered. My clothes were strewn all over the place. I had no idea where my shirt was.

I sat up, pulling the sheet to my chest to look for something to put on. Then I eyed a Burbank Fire hoodie draped over one of his unpacked boxes nearby. I leaned over and grabbed it before he turned around from the sink.

“Do you mind if I wear this?” I asked, pulling it on before he had the chance to answer. I tucked my nose into the neck and breathed in, closing my eyes.

He climbed back in bed, handing me a glass of water. “You can keep it if you want.” He grinned at me.

“Really?” God, I would never wash it. I would wear it like a warm hug. “Are you sure? That’s a slippery slope, Joshua. Hoodies are gateway clothes. Soon I’ll be stealing your shirts and your jackets.” I took a sip and then set the water down next to the bed and looked back at him.

He leaned in and kissed me, his smile enormous. “I’m sure,” he whispered against my lips. “Take whatever you want.”

I gave him a raised eyebrow. “Why are you so happy about me stealing your clothes?”

“I’m just happy because I like it when you call me Joshua,” he said, smiling. His fingers brushed the hair at the top of my forehead and he kissed me gently.

There was something so intimate in the way he was with me I had to change the subject.

“What’s this, Joshua?” I asked, looking away from him, picking up a dog-eared copy of Under a Flaming Sky from the upside-down box he used as a nightstand. I flopped onto my back. “I didn’t know you like to read.”

He scooted down to lie next to me and propped himself on his elbow. “I like to read about fires.”

I held the book over my face. “Is it any good? What’s it about?” I smiled at him. “Will you read me a chapter?”

He took the book from me and leaned over the other side of the bed. “It’s about a firestorm in Minnesota, back in 1894.” When he came back up, he was wearing glasses.

I blinked at him as he flipped to the dog-eared page, scooting to sit up against his pillows.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said, staring at him.

He looked over at me. “What?”

“You wear glasses?”

“Just for reading. Why?”

Just when I thought the man couldn’t get any more attractive, he goes and puts on motherfucking glasses.

“This is a joke, right? You are not allowed to get hotter than you already are. I forbid it.”

He set the book down across his lap and grinned at me. “You like the glasses, huh?” He bounced his eyebrows. “Want me to keep them on the next time?”

I giggled. “Yes, please.”

He pulled the glasses down and then put them back on. His eyes got wide. “Oh, wow. Look how pretty you are!”