Page 23

We should sit and talk—that’s what we decide. And I’ll make coffee. I can totally make us some coffee so we can sit and talk. And, I mean, I think I should be able to make coffee. It’s one of the few things I actually can make.

But the honest truth is I can’t fucking think right now because my dick is still hard and throbbing and my body is still thrumming with need.

I want more. Or just... that again. I want that again—him kissing me, his hips pressing into mine, feeling his hard length pulse against my thigh. Although it would be better with us both wearing much less clothing. Or no clothing at all. Yeah, that would be best.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hmm?”

Josh’s hands rub lightly up my back to my shoulders. I hadn’t even realized he was behind me. I’m supposed to be making fucking coffee, but I’ve probably been standing here staring at the coffee maker for several minutes.

“I’m no expert,” he says, “but I think you have to actually put the coffee grounds and water into the machine for it to brew.” His voice is teasing but also deep, and his hands—shit, I can’t wait until later.

I groan and drop the bag of coffee grounds onto the counter as I turn around, and he’s immediately in my arms again. His lips find mine, and I sort of stumble back half a step until I run into the counter. But he’s pressing up against me, his hands on my hips and his tongue sweeping through my mouth.

Hot. It’s hot. He’s fucking hot. This is all really, really fucking hot.

That’s about the extent of my thoughts right now. Especially when he moans into the kiss, his lips capturing mine again and again, his tongue tasting me. It’s some sort of fiery, silky, wet softness that’s mixed with an urgent—fucking hot—desire. Yeah. That’s it.

He’s still hard too. His hands slip under my shirt along my lower back, searing my skin, and they bring our hips together more. More. I want more still. I need him. It’s a fucking need like I’ve never had before.

“God, you’re—you’re just...”Everything. You’re everything, and you’re here, finally. And I want you.

His lips are on my neck now, and it’s sending waves of this amazing heat through me. Holy fuck, is this what he was feeling when I was kissing him earlier? I thought it had felt good to be kissing him, but god, this is even more. Even better.

And when one of his hands wanders around to my stomach and then teases along the waistband of my jeans, god, I can barely fucking breathe.

“Holy shit, Josh, I—”

His hips press into me again, more deliberately this time. Like he’s—oh, god. His hand dips down between us, and he strokes me through my jeans.

Fuck, I’m not going to survive this.

“God, you’re so hard.” His voice is a hoarse whisper now, hot against my cheek.

He does it again—strokes me—and this time, I think he’s rocking against me too, and his lips are back on my throat. It’s so many sensations all at once.

Too much, maybe. Too much, too fast.

But then again, maybe it’s not. I am fucking twenty-five years old, after all. Ready to not be a virgin anymore. And I’m totally in love with him.

So, fuck, there’s that.

I’m fucking in love with him, and I have been for so long. And I want this to mean forever. I want us to be forever. And I’m not entirely sure what that means or what that looks like, or—

“Ah, fuck, that’s so—”

“You feel so good,” he breathes against my neck. Then he trails more kisses and his hot tongue down lower to the base of my neck, and he somehow finds this spot that’s just the fucking best spot ever. And he sucks hard.

“Ahh, god, god, yeah. Soooooo, soooooo fucking good.”

We both moan long and low as he presses against me again, moving his hand away. I feel his hard, hot shaft rubbing against mine. Holy hell, my fucking pants are too tight, and he feels huge and thick, even constrained in his jeans. I have this incredibly strong urge to touch him to see just how big he is.

But it’s too much now. Too much, and yet I still want more.

He cups my cheek as his lips work their way back up my neck, and then his mouth covers mine as he thrusts his hips against me again.

God, I want this. I want him. But... I want forever, too. So we shouldn’t rush. I mean, I think—I think that’s what I was trying to think, before he interrupted my thinking in the most fucking amazing and wonderful way.

“Ahh, Josh, I—”

He stops me with another kiss, and then he moans into me and pulls back, breathing hard. I manage to open my eyes, and he’s got his eyes closed, his head tilted back a bit. One of his hands is now under my shirt, resting on my stomach, and the other is still on my cheek.

Fuck, that’s... hot. He’s gorgeous and hot and sexy, and I want to touch him now too. Kiss his neck, taste his skin everywhere, undress him, stroke his dick. Slowly, though.

“Slowly, what?” he asks, his eyes half opening as he straightens up.

“Fuck, I said that out loud?”

He laughs. “You said...” He leans in closer to me again, his lips grazing along my jawline until his breath is hot against my ear. Then he whispers in the sexiest voice I think I’ve ever heard, “Ahh, yeah, slowly, though.”

I screw my eyes shut and groan as both of his hands slide downward to my hips.

Slowly.

His chest is rising and falling, and he’s still close. And I can still feel his hard shaft against my thigh. And I can think of exactly how slowly I want to stroke up his length. And exactly how slowly I want him to—ah, god, I want him inside me. Nice and slow. Shit, that’s too much.

“Uh, I was thinking that . . . c-coffee . . . coffee brews slowly?”

He reaches down between us again. “I don’t think that’s what you meant,” he murmurs as he presses his hand firmly against me. When my dick throbs into his touch, he makes some indistinct sound and rubs up and down along my length.

“It’s not. It’s—fuck, Josh, I-I—”

How the fuck did we both get so bold? And how the fuck do we stop for a minute so we can talk?

“I’ve never felt like this before, Coop,” he says, and there’s something a little deeper and more serious to his voice now, even though he’s still stroking me.

But, yeah, it’s that. “Me—me neither, and I—fuck, that feels so fucking good, and I just want...”

I can’t think anymore, because he starts kissing my neck again. But this time, he’s slower, and it’s less urgent and more sensual. Hot, wet, slow kisses.

Both of his hands slip under my shirt and caress upward. “I’ll be slow, if you’ll let me,” he whispers as his fingers brush over my nipples.

Fire shoots through me. I’m fucking on fire, and it’s bright and so warm and so good.

“Ahh, god, that’s—that’s . . .”

He flattens his palms against me, and his hands slip back down to the waistband of my pants. His fingers run along the edge, under the top. They’re asking a question. He’s asking a question.

Do I want him now? God, yes. Yes, I do.

But what does that mean, exactly? And what does he want? Ah, fuck if I know.

He’s stopped and straightened up a bit, and he’s watching me with some sort of eager expression, I think. I’m not really sure. Maybe I’m too distracted still, and my body is all thrumming and shit. And it feels so fucking good.

But I’m supposed to be doing something. I’m supposed to be answering his question.

Fuck.

“I-I’m not—I’m not ready,” I choke out. “I-I mean, maybe I am. I’m just not really sure. And I... I wasn’t thinking about coffee.”

Yeah, duh, dumbass, he knows that already.

His hands pause, still at my waistband, and he purses his lips. God, his lips—they’re swollen and red from kissing me. And his eyes are dark with what can only be desire. And his neck is so fucking inviting—this expanse of skin that’s just waiting for me to taste it again.

Yeah, I’m still a dumbass. So easily distracted.

“What were you thinking about?” he rasps, and I tear my eyes away from where I’d been staring at his neck.

“I was thinking about...” I push away from the counter, and I reach out to set one hand on his hip. I can feel him shiver. “I was thinking about how slowly I’d...”

My hand moves lower until I find him, and he groans and drops his head to my shoulder. Fuck, I can feel how hot he is, even through his jeans, and I can feel his dick throb as I stroke him. Slowly.

“Godddddd, Coop.” He’s trembling now, clinging to me.

“This is what I was thinking about,” I whisper in his ear as I stroke him again. “Except... with less clothing.”

“That sounds . . .”

“Good?”

“Yessssss. God, yes.” He moans, and his hands slip back under my shirt.

And that’s when I freeze up. Because I’m really not ready.

I pull away and turn around, suddenly needing space. Or something.

Fuck.

Yeah, I’d jerked off while thinking about him less than a week ago. And yeah, I’m ready to touch him—god, I want to touch him. So fucking badly. And god, I fucking want to be ready. But I’m just... not. And it doesn’t make sense. Why the fuck—

“Coop?”

“Sorry, I just—I just need a minute.” I run a hand through my hair, and I hear him step up closer behind me. My heart’s beating hard in my chest, and it’s almost painful. And I’m fucking terrified.

Why the fuck am I terrified? I close my eyes, and my jaw clenches tight. I fucking know why, and it makes sense. It fucking makes perfect sense.

It’s because I don’t know, not for sure. I don’t know if I’m the only one who doesn’t want this to end. I don’t know that he’s not going to leave me. Again. I don’t know if this is... safe.

I need to know first.

Fuck.

“Wh-what—what does all of this mean to you, Josh?”

“I, um—I-I’m sorry, what?”

I turn around to face him again, and he’s watching me, his forehead creased with concern and confusion. Of course he’d be confused. I’m fucking confused too. I run a hand through my hair and look down at the floor.

“This. Us. This date today. This—” I motion to him and me because I have no idea what words to say. Then I turn away, my chest feeling tight. “What—what does it mean to you? What is all of this to you?”

I feel him move closer to me, and his hand touches mine, his fingertips tracing along my palm and then up to my elbow. Fuck, that feels good. Yet I’m almost sick with worry because if he doesn’t say what I want him to say...

God, this is so fucking confusing.

He squeezes my arm and slowly wraps his other arm around my midsection. And then he holds me as he lowers his mouth to my neck again, just as he had earlier. He kisses me just once, lightly, and his hand on my stomach presses into me with some sort of insistence. At least, that’s what it feels like.

“Everything, Coop.” He pauses as his lips brush against my neck again. “This means everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

God, my heart is just pounding. I swallow hard, and I feel him shudder as he holds me tighter.

“Coop, I won’t screw this up again. I promise. I want us. I want the chance—every day—to show you what you mean to me. I want to be your best friend again. But I want to be more than that too. I want...” His hand slides along my stomach, and he kisses my neck. “I want to show you that I love you. That I never stopped loving you. If—if that’s what you want. If you’ll... let me.”

I’m fucking shaking again, and I’m sure I couldn’t have possibly heard him right, because he said the L word there. Twice. He fucking said the L word twice. And there’s that weird shit going on in my chest—my heart doing some funny fluttering thing.

It feels wonderful, but I’m also terrified, for a different reason this time.

I turn around in his arms, and he immediately reaches up to cup my cheek.

“Please, please believe me, Coop,” he says quietly. His eyes are searching, pleading with me. His thumb brushes along my cheekbone. “I can’t lose you a second time.”

I shake my head. “I-I don’t want to lose you either. That’s the last thing I want.”

There’s so much more I want to say. But the words aren’t fucking coming. And it’s frustrating as hell right now because this is really important.

And because I’m so fucking in love with him.

Maybe that’s why this has been so difficult. And maybe that’s why my heart’s still beating so fast and why I find myself sliding my arms around his waist again, pulling him close to me.

“You . . . said you love me?”

He nods, and his eyes soften. “I do. I always have. Always.”

And that’s enough. That’s enough, and I’m sure, and I know. And shit, I’m so in love.

“Me too. Fuck, I . . . Me too.”

I stop trying to make sense of everything, and I lean in just as he stretches up to meet me. Our lips crush together in a different kind of kiss, one that doesn’t hide anything. It’s desire and love and need and fucking everything else, all at once.

And it’s fucking brilliant.