Page 39 of Too Far

I search her face, taking in the concern behind her blue eyes and her soft smile.

“Are you in pain?”

“Yes” is her response.

I run a hand through my hair and tug on the strands. “Josephine, just lie down. You need—”

“Ineeda minute with you.”

She doesn’t need a damn thing from me. She needs rest. To keep hydrating. To give the antibiotics time to work and the pain meds a chance to kick in.

“One minute,” she repeats, running her hands over my shoulders, then linking her arms around my neck.

When she presses her lips to mine, it’s like a needle meeting a helium balloon.

There’s a jolt, then an instant, supremely satisfying release of tension. Every worry, every ounce of anxiety and stress I was holding on to, it all releases.

I fight back a groan as I smooth my hands over her hair. I kiss her back, matching her intensity when she starts soft and sweet, then turns more urgent.

The energy between us doesn’t fizzle out as much as we tamp it down, both aware of each passing second, both desperate for just one more moment together.

I let her pull away first. I’ll be damned if, after all this time, I leave her wanting.

More than anything, I want to make her happy. Protect her. Love her. Keep her safe.

How can such base desires feel so convoluted?

I accepted years ago that who I am, what I do, who I’m destined to be, is all too much. It’s overwhelming even for me most days. How could I expect a partner to navigate the pressure, the criticism, and the constant scrutiny I’ve invited into my life?

The guys and I have made it this far despite it all. We’ve figured it out, made it work. Their loyalty has given me hope, possibly false, misguided hope, but hope, nonetheless.

Hope that there’s a future for me that is more than public appearances and highlight reels.

Hope that it could be me and her.

And them.

That we could forge our own path.

That we could make this work, together.

Josephine hooks her chin around my shoulder, locking me in place as she strokes through the hair at my nape.

“I—”

“I know,” she insists. “I just wanted to hold on to you for as long as I could.”

She unwinds her body from mine, but I don’t let her pull away completely.

Hoisting her up in my arms, I hug her tightly: soft, supple breasts push into my pecs; strong, toned legs wrap around my torso.

“Want me to carry you downstairs?” I ask, snagging one more kiss as I readjust her in my arms.

She laughs against my mouth, her spark warming me from the inside.

“I already told you my legs work, Cap. Put me down and get to class.”

Chapter 15