One Moment Please (Wait With Me #3)(39)

We make our way back to the party. Josh is talking to Miles and Sam in the kitchen. He doesn’t look completely miserable, but he must feel me watching because his head turns, and our eyes connect. The music of the party swells, and he drops his chin and watches me from across the room, giving me flashbacks of the tiger stalking his prey in the hospital cafeteria. Back then, I wasn’t sure what this look meant. Now, there’s no question that that…was foreplay. And so is this.

Josh excuses himself from the group, lifting his beer to Miles before making his way toward me. It’s like the universe can feel him coming because everyone sort of naturally parts for him, like Moses and the Red Sea.

This past week, things were pretty platonic between us. There were moments when I thought Josh was flirting with me, but then he’d shut it down by refocusing on the pregnancy and plans for my future and where I was going to live.

However, the way he’s looking at me and biting that lower lip, I want to forget that I’m pregnant with his baby. Suddenly, I just want to be a girl at a party watching a hot guy walk toward me.

My eyes caress his entire body, taking in his appearance. His dark jeans, black T-shirt, and charcoal blazer fit perfectly. His hair is carelessly mussed, and his green eyes pop against his dark lashes. He’s grown-up, effortlessly stylish, and one hundred percent man.

“Hey.” He slides one hand into his jeans pocket as he approaches. His eyes drift down my body before returning to my face.

“Hey,” I reply, my voice breathier than I intend. I clear my throat and push a strand of hair away from my face. “How did you get here?”

“A car.” He takes a sip of his beer bottle that looks a bit too pedestrian in his hand.

I fold my arms casually, needing to hold myself together. “I mean, how did you know where I was?”

His brows furrow. “You texted me.”

“No, I didn’t,” I retort. I then feel in my back pocket for my phone that’s most definitely not there. I glance toward the kitchen where Dean stands, holding his beer bottle up to me in a silent cheers.

“Thanks, Dean,” I grumble and slide my hands into my back pocket.

“Dean did this?” Josh asks, his eyes narrowing as he shoots a look over his shoulder before returning his attention to me. “He probably thought I wouldn’t come. Your text said: Want to come to a romance party? Here’s the address.”

“Oh, boy.” I wince.

Josh shakes his head. “Dean seems strangely determined to test me at every turn.”

“He’s just looking out for me.”

“So you keep saying.” Josh’s eyes smolder into mine with curiosity. “I take it you didn’t want me to come?”

“I figured you had to work,” I reply with a casual shrug. “And this doesn’t seem like your scene.”

He cocks his head. “How would you know what my scene is?”

“You’re right, I don’t know. Yet another reason I shouldn’t move in with you.”

He rolls his eyes and takes another drink, his Adam’s apple sliding up his thick neck as he swallows. “You’re right, this isn’t my scene.”

“I knew it.”

“I prefer smaller groups.”

I nod. “I could have guessed that.”

“This is why you should move in with me.” He steps closer, his eyes dancing with mirth. “You know me better than you’re willing to admit.”

“So you say.” I press my hand to his stomach to stop him from invading my space anymore.

His spicy aftershave is intoxicating as my fingers flatten on the ridges of his abs. My body instantly wants to snake my arms inside his jacket and enjoy the heat of him against me, press our bodies together so he completely envelops me.

Fuck these fucking hormones.

And fuck the memories of that night we had sex months ago that still course through my mind like it was only yesterday.

He peeks at my hand. “Once upon a time, you liked what I said.”

“When was that?” I lift my eyes to him. “When you were telling me I was crazy? Or accusing me of feigning amnesia?”

He cocks his head and the corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk. “More like when you were spread out naked on my bed.”

My cheeks flush, and I have to squeeze my thighs together to quiet the need that swells in my core.

He watches me curiously. “Are you feeling hot, Jones?”

“Hot?” Am I hot? When did my hand move to his pec?

His eyes rove over my face. “Your cheeks are red.”

I swallow and turn away to fan myself, hating how much I love the way he says my last name. “There are a lot of people in here.”

He leans in, his whiskered cheek sliding against mine as his breath caresses my ear, “Which is why I won’t tell you what other parts of your body I love to see flushed red.”

My eyes close as goose bumps erupt over my entire body. My nipples pebble so hard beneath my cotton top that I could moan just from the friction.

“Oh, I have news for you,” Josh states in a crisp voice, pulling away from me and leaving me breathless.

My eyes flutter open. “News?”

He nods and takes another drink of his beer. “Should I tell you slowly or rip it off like a Band-Aid?”