by Scott, S. L.
He pushes, enough to cause my mouth to fall open and suck in a breath. Kissing me again, his hips push forward, his body one with mine again as he steals my breath like he stole my heart last night.
The stretching.
The burning.
My heart racing toward an imaginary finish line.
I’ll take it all if I get him in the end. I was worried about pain, but it’s different than I expected. I welcome the burn, wanting to feel all of him.
Strong fingers run along my jaw, followed by kisses. “Breathe, Chloe.”
The soothing tones of his voice calm me, and I find a rhythm with him as our breath mingles and our hearts pound. Everything is felt in the gentle thrust, his whispers coating my skin like a sin being washed away. I tilt into him, letting him claim parts of me—body and soul—that were made for him, waiting for him.
Joshua Evans marks every inch of me—inside and out—with a tattoo of my choosing that will remain long after tonight.
With my arms around him, I lift my hips, meeting his. With one thrust, he steals my breath and heart away. But who cares about those things when I think I’ve died and gone to heaven?
“You feel too good,” he whispers against the shell of my ear before kissing my shoulder. “I don’t know if you’re an angel sent to save me or a reckoning for my sins. I only know that it doesn’t matter. You do. This between us does.”
I’m so close to giving him every piece of me, the parts that others don’t see and the ones that only exist for him. I need this acceptance, to drown in his words, his arms, and be pulled under with this bliss. I need him like he needs me. The headiness has me wanting to feel this way forever.
Thrust after thrust has us holding on together until his hand dips between us, and he rubs me so right that I fall under his spell again. Another kiss is placed on my neck as the fullness overwhelms me.
The soft light that dips in through the window gives me the gift of him when I open my eyes. A vein in his forehead revealing the intention he’s seeking. Tightening my hold around his neck, I press my cheek to his and angle my middle.
“So good, Chloe,” he pants with a jagged breath.
With every move, thrust, and kiss, I enjoy his passion for me and revel in mine for him. His moans gather as our bodies push and pull, tease, and pleasure. His groan of completion drags me from my release in time to catch his—his head dipping and the stubble scraping my skin. Our bodies are covered in a sheen of sweat when his weight releases down on me.
I hold him, loving the feel and tucking my head into the nook of his neck. I’m caught between sleep and the aftermath of giving my whole soul to this man, and my heart confesses—I love you.
14
Joshua
She could easily become an addiction . . . she has already.
The fading scent of perfume lingers on her skin—citrus and flowers—mixed with sweat and sex. I take my time to appreciate her lips properly—how they feel against mine, moving with me, against me, making me crave her in ways that might not be the same as a nice guy.
I try to be nice for her. She deserves that, and don’t I deserve something good? Someone like her? If I’ve done anything right, I hope it’s gaining her trust. I kiss her until we’re wrapped up in each other again. But the night’s been long, and we’ve earned some rest as exhaustion sets in. She curls into the nook of my arm.
She’s so small in my arms that I have to fight against my Neanderthal urges to protect her because she’s capable of taking care of herself. She’s proven that time and again, so I don’t understand why I’m suddenly wanting to do it for her. “I’ve never met anyone like you, someone I want to spend every minute of every day with and can’t stop thinking about when I’m not with you.”
Laughter wriggles out of her. “I’m so glad I’m not alone. I think I’m obsessed with you. You’re just so . . .” Dropping her head to my chest, she sighs happily. “Everything I could ever dream of.”
Maybe because it’s two in the morning and I’m exhausted, but I try to see the logic. “This is fast.”
“People will call us crazy.”
“Maybe we are, but . . .” I rub the back of her head until she looks up. “But it doesn’t seem there’s another way for us.”
A yawn escapes her, and she says, “We’ll be crazy together.”
I’m quick to dispose of the condom and drop back down next to her. “It’s been a long day. From school to work to Lucky’s.” Checking the time, I add, “I’m glad we get to sleep in.”
She kisses my chest and then puts a little distance between us. “Joshua?” In the low light, I can see her eyes on me. “I need to tell you something.”
“We’re already sharing.” I kiss her forehead. “Lay it on me.”
“This is big.”
I could counter with the conversation we just had being pretty damn big, but I can tell by her hushed tone it’s not the same. “What is it?”
“I was a virgin,” she blurts out.
I can pinpoint the exact moment I stopped breathing. It was just after her admission that she was a virgin. Yep, the woman I just had sex with like we’d done it a million times before hadn’t ever done it at all. As if I’ll scare her with any fast movements, I shift my arm down and push up to look at her. “You’re a virgin?”
“No,” she says, smiling. “Not anymore. Thanks to you.”
I’m struggling to rationalize what just happened through her big smile and the giggle that escapes her, but the wink sent it over the top. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it was necessary information.”
Moving up the bed, I rest my back against the headboard. “How would it not be necessary information?”
“Biologically speaking, we fit together the same whether I’m a virgin or not. It’s not like I’ve never had an orgasm, as you’re well aware of, or clinically speaking, my hymen was intact.”
“No. We’re not doing medical speak.” Maybe it’s the early morning hour, the whiskey from earlier, or having sex for the first time, but it’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen her. She slides up next to me with gentle laughter vibrating through her. “We just made love.”
“We did make love.” Her voice is effervescent as if she’s been waiting for this moment all her life, and it lived up to expectations.
“Made love,” I repeat for myself as much as for her. Already feeling so much for her, if I’m not careful, those three little words will slip on my tongue and slide right off.
Normally, I’d pat myself on the back under the accolade of getting her off, but it’s different with Chloe. I don’t want to gloat about some feeble achievement. She has a right to come just like I do. I shouldn’t get a participation award for doing the right thing. But I’m not letting her sidetrack me again.
“It sounds like a but is in there somewhere,” she says, searching my eyes for an answer I’m not sure I can explain.
“No but, this time. An epiphany.” She’s suddenly very interested, so I confess, “I don’t think I’ve ever made love before.” Can she hear the tenuous tone as I step into the unknown? Will she think less of me for it?
Delight sparkles in her eyes. She’s shameless, but I don’t blame her. I’m not ashamed of a damn thing we just did. I just need a minute to not feel like I just took something that wasn’t mine to steal. She leans her head on my shoulder. “Maybe I should have told you. I didn’t know you’d mind.”
I’m being fucking ridiculous. I earned her trust, if not through words then through my actions. “Hey?” Her eyes find mine again, and I say, “You don’t owe me an apology or an explanation. It was yours to do as you please. But—”
“I knew there was a but!” She laughs, poking me in the chest.
“No harsh but coming. I wanted to thank you for choosing me to share that with you.”
“Aww. That’s so sweet.” Her hand covers mine as I rest it on the side of her neck. “There’s no one else I’d rather share my firs
t time with.” She smiles, admiring me with the happiness that has laughter shining in her eyes. “We should be tired,” she says, patting my chest. “Should we sleep?”
“We should eat. I’m starving.”
“Great minds.” She throws the covers off and slips into the bathroom. Not taking long, she comes out tightening the belt of her robe around her waist. We kiss as we pass each other.
After slipping on my boxers, I find her standing in the kitchen. Taking two bottles from the neat rows on the counter, she tosses me a bottle of water. I twist the lid and sip, looking around—beige couch, blue pillows, and those giant-ass textbooks.
“It’s not a fancy omelet, but I have chips,” she says.
“Chips work.”
“I’m so hungry,” she replies, pulling a bag of chips from the fridge.
It takes a solid second, but my mind finally catches up with the fact that she keeps water on the counter and chips in the fridge. “Why do you keep chips in the fridge?”
“They stay fresh longer.” She doesn’t feel the need to go on although I kind of need her to.
“I’ve never had a bag last long enough to worry.” I drink half the water while letting my gaze bounce around the room again. “Do you always leave New Haven in the summer?”
“Yes.” I catch her eyeing me, but she’s quick to turn back around and eat a few chips. Holding the bag out, she offers, “Chips?”
I take the offer, shoving my hand in the bag in search of whole chips. With a few in hand, I say, “Thanks.” Leaning against the counter, I find the sparsely filled room doesn’t tell me anything about her, though it might represent her ambition. She’s amazing—attentive, funny, and focused.
Guess I’m just used to my mom’s place, which after twenty years of living in it, has tchotchkes and framed photos of our lives. I cross the room to mist Frankie, then press my finger to the soil. “You’re taking good care of her.”
“It’s a kind of a hassle. Bonsais need a lot of attention.”
I return, leaning the counter next to her. “They do. It’s supposed to be a Zen activity.”
“It’s stressful. I find myself thinking about her when I’m in class, worried I’m going to kill her.”
Rubbing her shoulder, I say, “I’ll make sure you don’t.”
“It’s good to have backup. Peanut butter and jelly?”
“Protein and flavor all in one. The perfect food.”
She pulls the jars and bread out. Dipping into a drawer to get a knife, she says, “Glad you approve.”
So meticulous, she covers every millimeter. “You’re going to be a great doctor.”
Laughing, she says, “Hope so.”
When she finishes, she lifts half over her shoulder, letting me bite most of it before turning to face me and eating some. I finish my sandwich about ten bites before she eats hers. She says, “You eat too fast.”
“I got a bit of size on you, baby. If my mom didn’t own a diner, she’d be broke from feeding me.”
“I like your size.” Her hands run over my shoulders, feeling me bef0re wrapping around my neck. “A lot.”
“I like you a lot.” I dip my head ready to kiss her neck, but then hear her breath catch. Staring at her creamy skin, I can almost see the pulse dancing for me. Closing my eyes, I breathe her in, filling my lungs with her scent before I run the tip of my nose from the curve of her jaw and behind her ear.
Her breathing quickens as I wait to kiss her, to taste her the way I want. Sweet teasing torture appears to be the way to her heart.
Braver than before, she runs her hands over my ribs and then lower and around to the top of my ass. I attack her neck with kisses and then under her ear. She whispers, “You didn’t hurt me if you’re worried.”
“I was.” The night replays how I wanted to protect her earlier. Again, proving she doesn’t need that from me. She just wants me. Despite my lack of finances, she has never looked at me less than worthy.
My heart clenches, and we head back to bed.
Her smile only wavers under a yawn when we drop back in bed, sleep catching up with us. Pulling the covers over her shoulder, she cuddles against me, and asks, “Should I be this tired?”
“Yes,” I reply, arrogance seeping in.
“And sore?”
Now I feel bad. “Sorry.”
“It’s a good sore. Like a solid workout for muscles that are never used.”
I yawn, my own muscles begging for rest. “Looking on the bright side?”
“Is there any other way to see it when I’m happy?”
Lying next to her, I already know my world’s been rocked onto a new axis, one that aligns with hers. She’s captured more than I thought I had to give, and I’ll let her keep it, keep all of me because she’s given me a newfound peace I never knew until we met.
Kissing her head, I close my eyes and bury my nose into the back of her hair and inhale. “Sweet dreams.”
I start to let fatigue drag me into sleep when I hear her whisper, “Sweet dreams.”
15
Chloe
Joshua Evans is no boy.
There’s not one thing about him that isn’t all man. Holy moly, he makes my heart spin and my body feel alive. He’s a drug, an addiction. He’s everything I never knew existed. All that goodness and handsome package of sunshine dimples, molten chocolate eyes, and a body that embraces me like the world’s on fire and I am the last drop of water he needs for survival. What is it about him that makes me feel this way?
I can think of a million things, but the way he’s sweet to me and looks at me—really looks at me and sees beyond my name, beyond my face—makes me feel special.
Maybe I shouldn’t have fallen so fast or so hard, but he has a way of making me feel like a new version of me. I’ve always had a one-track mind for my future profession, but he’s shown me I can be more than a career. I can also have a life. My mom and Ruby were right, but until I experienced it firsthand, I didn’t understand. Now I do, and I’m liking this new me.
Delirious and tired after the best weekend of my life, I catch myself smiling in the middle of a lecture. I just can’t stop thinking about him. My eyes remain glued to the chalkboard in front of the auditorium, but I hide my mouth behind my hand. I think I’m doing a fairly good job of keeping this happiness contained until a giggle gets me shushed.
Me? Shushed.
The teacher’s assistant glances my way, and the professor stops reading from the book on the lectern.
Yikes. I’m pinned to my seat with a glare.
What am I doing? I grin.
I don’t disrupt my classes.
I don’t step outside the lines.
I don’t break the rules.
At least I didn’t used to . . .
I’ve always done what I’m supposed to do. Right now, that means listening to Professor Tracey. But dating Joshua is much more interesting. For him or because of him, I’m blurring the line between my old and my new life.
My phone screen lights up with just the name invading my day. Soulmate. He makes it easy to believe in such things. I move the phone to my lap to try to read the text covertly: I can’t stop thinking about you.
I type: Same for me. Best. Weekend. Ever!
Joshua: I vote for a repeat.
Me: I’m in.
Joshua: Macroeconomics and finance forecasting don’t hold a candle to eating cold chips and drinking warm water with you.
Euphoria consumes me, and for the first time, I understand why the Greeks called love the madness of the gods. Is that what I’m doing? After one date and a few texts telling me I’m better than his major? Am I . . . is this? Sliding down in the chair, I bite my lip, feeling this craziness take over, and I willingly let it.
Love isn’t a science or something I can dissect. It’s an emotion that overwhelms and can’t be explained. It can only be felt. And I’m feeling something I’ve never felt before. It’s like my brain’s been rewired to take direction from my heart.
>
Confidence matches the high. I flirt right back, and type: And here I was thinking about the sex.
Joshua: Lol. It’s worth a repeat as well, though I’m surprised you have the energy. #insatiable #harder #faster #allthedemands #vixen
Laughter bellows from my gut. Oh, crap!
I’m given the evil eye from pretty much everyone but the guy sleeping two rows down. Seconds later, I’m saved by the class’s dismissal. As I float down the auditorium stairs, my mood is hijacked when the professor calls me, “Chloe?”
I step to the side. “Yes?”
“Outbursts are unacceptable in my class. Please keep the distractions out of this auditorium.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She turns away, moving to raise the screen. I hurry, realizing even getting in trouble for the first time in my life didn’t dampen my great mood. Stopping in the sunshine, I tilt my head up to the blue skies.
“Chloe?”
Geez, suddenly my name is the most common word in the English language. This time it’s Ruby, though, so I don’t mind. “Hey. Heading home?”
“You will not believe what just happened.”
We start walking together. “What?”
Showing me her cup, she says, “So I’m standing in line for coffee at Perky Beans, and this hot guy is behind me. I’m next to order, and he starts chatting me up about not being able to drop a class but seeing me has his day looking better.”
Joshua makes my days—and my nights—better. I can’t imagine anyone dreamier than that man, but she doesn’t need to hear me talk about him.
“Chloe!”
“What?” I glance next to me to find her not there. Stopping, I turn back.
With her hands on her hips and her brows knitted together, I don’t need the glare to tell me she’s irritated. “Are you even listening?” She’s happy to tell me herself.
“I’m listening. Hot guy. Black coffee. Sophisticated. Got it.”
