One Moment Please (Wait With Me #3)(15)

Either way, I’m done with the bickering. I’m done with him demeaning me and acting as though he has all the control. He is the sexiest, most infuriating man I’ve ever met, and I’m turning the tables.

I cock my chin and narrow my eyes. “Last I checked, kissing typically overrides talking.”

My response causes his puzzled expression to morph into genuine interest when I don’t back down. He fights a smile, but I catch a definite flash of a dimple on his left cheek as he steps closer, his eyes smoldering on mine. “I could do a lot more than kiss you.”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “Prove it.”

He smirks, his gaze dancing from my eyes to my lips and back again. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking for?”

I nod, squeezing my single girl sparkly clutch like it’s giving me special powers. “Just quit being a dick for the first time all day and make your mouth useful for—”

“So much talking,” he growls and suddenly, our bodies collide. I suck in a deep breath as he grabs my face and plants his mouth roughly on mine.

My eyes widen.

I didn’t think he’d actually do it. I figured he’d say something scathing and send me on my way.

But he didn’t.

His lips are hard and unforgiving as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth. He tastes of smoky alcohol. It’s so heady that my body reflexively succumbs to him, begging to be drenched in his potent masculinity.

Josh’s hands leave my face, one wrapping around the small of my back and pulling me flush against him as the other slides into my hair. He grips the roots of my long waves and tugs my head back, deepening our kiss even further. It’s completely commanding and turns those feminist-shaming embers that burned before into full-blown flames. I swirl my tongue against his, my hands clutching the lapels of his jacket as I hold on for dear life.

God, it’s been too long since I’ve tasted a man. And honestly, I’ve never tasted one who makes me worry I could drown if we stop. I revel in submitting to him, something that I never even knew I craved. I want his hands all over me to squeeze me, to grab me, to turn me into his moldable putty of pleasure.

God, this is so weird.

One minute, I want to knock him into next week, and the next, I want him to take me right in the middle of the street. How can kissing a stranger elicit such madness?

It should feel weird kissing a stranger.

Especially a dick like this.

Well…not that kind of dick. Although admittedly, kissing actual dick is weird too. I sometimes wonder why sucking dick is even a thing. Like who came up with the idea that privates and mouths are a good combination? I mean…they are…don’t get me wrong. But it’s weird, right?

And as weird as it is to be kissing the man who I hated two seconds ago, I’m vindicated by this moment. Josh clearly doesn’t hate me or he wouldn’t be kissing me like a man who hasn’t eaten in weeks.

He loosens his grip on my hair and cups my cheek as he softens the kiss, swirling his tongue into my mouth tenderly. My hands wrap around his waist, and I gasp when his hard length presses against my belly. Breaking our kiss, I trail my gaze lower for confirmation.

Josh’s breath is hot and labored as he drags his thumb along my lower lip. “You’ve been staring at it all day. You can’t honestly be surprised.”

“Shut up,” I murmur and gape at the area that I so elegantly dropped pie on earlier today. I caress him because clearly, I’m an insane lunatic who fondles dicks in the middle of the street.

Typical Friday night for good ole Lynsey Jones!

He groans and presses his forehead to mine. “We’re going to have to move this inside unless you want me to fuck you outside in front of all my neighbors.”

He breathes heavily against my cheek.

“Finally, we agree on something.” I let out a little yelp of surprise when he turns and drags me toward his front door.

“Always so mouthy,” he murmurs as he opens the door, flicks on some lights, and steps back to let me inside. I don’t even try to hide my pleased smirk. I love that I get under his skin.

I make a move to walk into the house and trip on the floor transition, nearly toppling to the ground before Josh wraps his arms around my waist to stop me from falling.

“Fuck, are you okay?” he barks, almost agitated at my lack of coordination.

“I’m fine.” I straighten while pushing my hair out of my face. “I’m just a bit of a klutz. Hopefully, you weren’t expecting any acrobatics from me in the bedroom.” I laugh awkwardly, and my face falls as I notice the barren space. “Did you just move in?”

“No,” he replies, his voice flat.

I move toward the sad-looking white plastic chair sitting in front of a stone fireplace and set my clutch on it. “So, the sterile waiting room chair is a decorative statement?”

Josh narrows his eyes as he drops the keys on a small entryway table. “Are we still doing the talking thing? I thought we moved on to other plans.”

Rubbing my lips together, I feel a flood of heat course through my veins at the predatory look in his eyes as he stalks toward me. The expression on his face reminds me of how he looked all those days he glared at me in the cafeteria.

God, was that foreplay, and I was too stupid to realize it?

He eliminates the space between us to grab me around the waist. His mouth collides with mine, and we’re a mess of lips and hands all the way through his living room, down a darkened hallway, and into the bedroom at the end, me tripping along the way as usual and grateful for his strong hold on me so I don’t completely face-plant somewhere.