Page 47 of Something Spontaneous

It makes me want to ask him so many questions.

It makes me want him—or at least his body and touch—more than I already do.

CHAPTER 19

JOSIE

Invitation

He takes that last step and closes the gap between us. My ass is pressed against his car, but I don’t flinch. Not when he reaches out and tips my chin up with his thumb and forefinger. He’s over a foot taller than me, and this close, I have to crane my neck to look into those sapphire pools that are focused entirely on me.

“I’m going to tell you what I think, and you’re going to listen,” he says, his voice gravelly and low.

I furrow my brows in frustration, but I don’t move because my body thrums at this intimate contact. For the first time since last night, I feel a sense of peace—of being grounded—and while I don’t know what that says about me, I don’t want it to end.

“I don’t really want your opinion right now. I’ve gone the last ten years without it, so I think I’m good,” I say, even though I desperately want to hear what he’s got to say. I want more of his confessions—to hear that I wasn’t the only one reeling on lonely nights for years.

“Too bad,” he starts, taking no mercy on me, “because that means I’m going to have to show you that you’re wrong.”

I tilt my head in confusion as he tilts his, and his hands find my hips, lifting me onto the hood of his car.

His eyes bore into mine, and he lets out two gravelly words under his breath. “Fuck it.”

Before I can protest, his lips find mine and I turn into a puddle. He steps between my legs and his hands splay over my lower back, pulling me into his warmth. I brace my hands on the cool metal surface at my sides, but only for a second before my lizard brain takes over and I give in to what I’ve wanted since last night—or maybe, as I’m slowly realizing, much longer than that.

His tongue clashes with mine in a probing, hungry kiss while my hands roam up and under his shirt. I don’t know where I want them to end up. I spent all morning on my hike wondering what the abs I saw this morning would feel like, and they’re even better than I imagined. His body is firm and unyielding to my touch, but still warm and comforting.

The wet kiss and his hungry grunts make my nipples harden under the thin tank top I wore tonight. The scrape of his rough callouses feels so good against my skin, but I want more. I wish he would touch my chest, my waist, or anywhere all at once because my body is thrumming. My core clenches in anticipation, only adding to my urgent need. I run my fingers through the curls of his chest hair until my hands find his pecs. Finally, I try to lift his shirt over his head, painfully breaking our kiss.

He chuckles before taking his shirt off the rest of the way. My eyes take in the sight in front of me, and even though I saw him shirtless earlier today, this is so much better. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, and his eyes burn with what I imagine is the same hunger I’m feeling low in my core.

“Are you finally going to admit that I’m right? That you feel something too?” he asks, his eyes finding mine.

“This doesn’t change how I feel about you, Sylvester—but right now—I need you, so please shut up and let me take what I need,” I say. I notice the small, simple tattoo between his pecs, skewed to one side. It’s right over his heart, but it’s the shape that nearly takes my breath away. The unmistakable outline of a small bunny rabbit—what he used to call me—almost makes me reach out to feel his heartbeat, like I used to.

Before I can make that mistake, one that would be an even bigger mistake than the one I’m already making now, he reaches out and tips my chin up again. His touch is gentle, but he still forces me to look at him. “Whatever you need. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You’re still talking, so clearly you can’t follow instructions,” I huff.

He arches a brow in confusion and doesn’t say anything.

“Are you serious? What are you waiting for, an invitation?” I throw my head back, groaning in frustration. “Fine.”

I reach under my skirt and shimmy my panties down my legs. His mouth opens when he tracks the movement, and I don’t miss the way his nostrils flare. “I’m only going to say this once. Obviously, we have some shit we need to get out of our systems so we can move on, but this means nothing.”

I ball up the lacy fabric into my fist, and look him right in the eyes, trying not to notice all the beautiful hues of blue.

“I’m clean and on birth control. So, if you’re good with that, and can say the same, then this is as close as you’re going to get to me asking you,” I say, reaching up and stuffing my red thong into his gaping mouth. “Maybe now you’ll shut up and finally fuck me.”

I cup his chin and push his mouth shut for good measure, still begrudgingly admitting that I like the way his beard feels in my hand. He looks down at me with a wicked smirk as I brush the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip.

He grabs my wrist, slowly pulling it away from his face. I watch him pull the red fabric out of his mouth and hold my panties in front of his face. I swear he lets out the subtlest of moans when he inhales. I instantly feel the same need he’s breathing in pooling between my legs—the one I can now feel coating my inner thighs.

“Goddammit,” he rasps, tucking my panties into his pocket. “I fucking missed that.”

“Glad to see you still have some standards.”

His hungry grin returns, and I see him, the not-so-shy version of himself that would only come out for me.