Junk Mail(35)

“What’s the story on this?” I kick off my shoes and head for the couch, dragging my fingers along the back.

“Kinda sticks out, huh?” Josh chuckles. God, that laugh. Gritty but sweet, like honey in a whiskey glass. “There’s actually a story.”

“As I expected.” I take a seat, sinking into the cushions as I reach for the white throw and drape it over my lap. “I’m all ears.”

“It used to be in my parents’ living room,” he says, making his way to the kitchen and popping the cork on a bottle of red. “In high school, I practically lived on the thing. When I moved from the suburbs to the city, they let me take it. A little reminder of where I came from.” He returns with a glass of wine in each hand. “Do you think it’s an eyesore?”

I shake my head as I accept a glass from him. “I think that’s super sweet. A great way to remember your roots. And you definitely make it work in the space.”

His smile is proud, if not a little hypnotizing. If he’s trying to get me under his spell, it’s working. “What can I say? When I know what I want, I always make it work.”

I gulp down the lump in my throat. Somehow, I feel like he’s not just talking about the couch, so I pivot the conversation to something a bit more practical and a lot less sexy. “Isn’t it a little dangerous to drink red wine on a white carpet?”

Josh’s eyes narrow to slits, a smile tugging at his lips as he closes the space between us. He’s close enough to get me buzzing before I’ve even had a sip of wine.

He raises his glass, waiting for me to clink mine against it. “Isn’t it a little dangerous for us to be alone together when we said we’d keep it professional?”

I freeze, my mouth hanging open ever so slightly. It’s not until he taps the rim of his glass against mine that I’m able to speak.

“I, um, I actually meant to ask you about that.” I swirl my wine in my glass, careful not to let any spill. “Because this feels like a—”

“Like a date?” He finishes my thought, bringing a flush to my cheeks that’s probably as red as the wine.

“Kinda. Is it?” I whisper, hope building in the back of my throat.

“Well,” Josh says, setting his glass on the table before shifting so his broad shoulders are square with mine. “I had every intention of making good on our deal to take the romantic stuff off the table for now.”

I set my glass on the coaster next to his. “Have or had?” I ask meekly, hoping I know the answer.

“Had.” His fingers brush across my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear before his hand finds a gentle hold on the back of my neck. “But you’re certainly not making it easy on me. Look at you, for God’s sake. What am I supposed to do?”

“Kiss me,” I say in a whisper, surprising myself.

And he does. Not a second later, Josh’s lips crash into mine and we fall into our rhythm again, our tongues intertwining as he explores my mouth hungrily. He slides my blazer off, exposing my shoulders and collarbone for him to kiss and nip and tease. It’s only moments before my dress meets the same fate, unzipped and slid off, a bolt of red against the white carpet.

I toss my head back, a stifled groan of pleasure falling from my mouth as Josh’s tongue moves from my collarbone to the space between my breasts, his breath hot and wanting. My nipples harden beneath my black lacy bra, tight and hard and ready for him. Every inch of my skin begs for his touch, every hair standing on end, every gentle bite against my neck fueling the fire building for this man.

Pawing at his shirt, I pop open the buttons one by one before shoving it off his shoulders, then drag my nails down his back until I get a hum of pleasure out of him. God, I’ve wanted to hear that hum so desperately since the moment I slammed on the brakes last night.

I’m already panting in need by the time Josh pulls back.

“Are you sure about this?”

I almost laugh, but instead smile devilishly, reaching out and taking a handful of his hardness through his pants. He groans again as I tighten my grip, feeling him harden even more beneath my touch. “I need this.”

“Where, baby?” he growls. “Show me where.”

Pushing one thigh to either side of him, I straddle him, grinding against the solid ridge I can feel between my thighs. “Here.”

He’s fully erect now, and he releases a soft grunt when I rock against him again. I could ride him like this. Right here. Right now.

But Josh has something else in mind first. Lifting me by my hips, he pulls me off of him and onto the couch before his knees hit the plush white carpet. One twist of his fingers, and the fabric of my soaked panties is pulled to the side, his hot mouth against my wetness, breathing me in.

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart.”

He runs one finger along my wet flesh, his tongue chasing quickly behind it, and I shudder. As he touches my clit with his tongue, he eases two fingers into my tightness until I’m quivering around him.

“Here?” he asks, his mouth not straying from that bundle of nerves at my center. He curls his fingers inside me to indicate where he’s referring to. “Is this where you want me?”

“Y-yes,” I stutter.

He’s so talented, so focused when he goes after what he wants, and it’s obvious right now that he wants me. I’m nearing climax already, but he’s not going to let me have it yet. Rising to his feet, he shakes his head.