Junk Mail(25)

Josh’s mouth twitches into a smirk, and my skin responds accordingly by flooding with goose bumps. “Fine, you’re right,” he says in surrender.

“Damn right I am.” I smile. Those are some terms I can agree on.

Josh follows me up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom door, where I suddenly jolt to a stop.

I was planning on folding laundry in my room, but is it crossing a line to bring Josh in here? There’s something that seems entirely unprofessional about bringing your business partner into the bedroom. Then again, beds haven’t really been our thing so far. We’re more of a hotel-closet type of couple.

No. Bad Peyton. We are not thinking about the hotel closet right now. And more importantly, we are not, under any circumstances, a couple.

“Are you leading the way or am I?” Josh asks with a tap on my shoulder. I guess I paused here a moment or two too long.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammer, searching the back corners of my brain for an excuse. “I’m fine. I couldn’t remember if I turned the lights off for Gram. But I just remembered that I did.”

Rolling my shoulders, I take the quietest deep breath I can and push open my bedroom door. I need to chill the hell out and stop making this out to be a bigger deal than it is. He’s just here to help me out during a tough time. And the last time I checked, folding laundry isn’t exactly code for anything sexy. Unless sorting socks turns him on.

Josh sits on the bed next to me as I tip the laundry basket, causing an avalanche of socks to tumble onto my comforter.

“I think it’s easier to sort them this way,” I say, snagging two navy blue socks that I know are mine. “Thanks again for helping out so much today. It really means the world.”

“My pleasure.” Josh’s gaze flits across the pile as he grabs a banana-yellow sock with a monkey-face pattern, then quickly finds its match. “These are fun.”

“Gram’s,” I tell him, folding the navy socks together and tossing them back into the empty basket. “What can I say? She’s a lot more fun than I am.”

Interest sparks in Josh’s eyes as he spots something in the pile. “I don’t know about that.” He smirks. “Because these look like a whole lot of fun to me.”

From what I was sure was merely an innocent sock pile, Josh pulls a red satin thong, letting it hang off his fingers like a piece of evidence. I lunge to snatch it from his hands, but he yanks it back too quickly.

“Ah, so this is yours, I assume?”

The flush on my face is fire hot. Suddenly, the term “apples of my cheeks” makes perfect sense to me. I must be the color of a red delicious. Or more accurately, the color of the thong dangling from Josh’s fingertips.

“Um, yeah. It’s mine.”

He runs a thumb along the silky fabric, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I knew it felt familiar.”

My gut does a quadruple somersault as I process what he just said. Holy shit. Those are the underwear I wore to the hotel event. The pair he peeled aside before plunging his fingers into me and bringing me to the best orgasm of my life.

I bashfully tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, avoiding his gaze as my heart rate shoots through the roof. How am I supposed to respond to that?

When I muster the courage to look up, I find Josh with a crease of frustration on his forehead as he tries to fold the tiny scrap of red fabric. I snicker. He may be good with his hands, but I guess that doesn’t include folding women’s underthings.

“What?” Josh shoots me a defensive look, and I giggle again.

“Let’s just say you did a little better with those panties the last time you had your hands on them.”

My heart leaps into my throat. Um. What? Did those words really just come out of my mouth?

Josh seems as surprised as I am. His mouth falls open ever so slightly, and his eyes dance as they lock with mine. “Oh yeah?” He balls the silky red thong in his fist. “Well, I’d love a chance to do that again.”

Sabrina and Libby’s voices are practically screaming in my ears, telling me to go for it. This is it. This is my chance. Josh is sitting on my bed, less than a foot away from me, my panties in his fucking hands. And as loud as my best friends’ voices are in my head, my own is even louder.

I know what I want. I want Josh.

I reach out and cup his stubbled jaw in my hand, enjoying the roughness on the pads of my fingers as I lean in. He meets me halfway, pressing his mouth against mine, taking my lower lip between his.

God, he tastes heavenly. Even better than I remembered.

Sliding his arms around my waist, he pulls me toward him till I’m settled in his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist.

Even through his jeans, I can feel his bulge stiffen beneath me as his hands make their way to the curve of my ass. A hungry moan builds in my throat, but I choke it back. It’s dangerous enough to be making out with Gram sleeping downstairs. The last thing I want is to give her an unexpected wake-up call.

Just as I feel him getting fully hard, Josh lifts me off of him by my hips until I’m reclined against my pillows. I giggle as he pushes the mountain of socks off the bed and onto the floor.

“I’ll deal with that later,” he murmurs against my ear, causing every hair on my body to stand on end. “I’ve got something else to take care of right now.”