Page 102 of Honeysuckle
“I…” He started and stopped.
“Are you nervous?” I laughed and he tossed me a dirty look that made me raise both hands in surrender.
“A little, justshut up.” He rose to his knees and moved closer to me on the couch and I held my breath. It burned in my lungs as my heart started to race uncomfortably fast.
“What are you—”
“Please shut up?” He cut me off with a pathetic whisper, and I nodded, willing to do whatever he wanted if it meant he was going to take the leap and touch me.
I wanted to know every single violent thought that was floating around in his head at that moment, when he leaned down with his hands resting against his thighs and his lips slightly parted.Was he scared? Did he want to kiss me, or was he doing it for me?
“Stay still,” he said quietly and shifted on the couch, his hand pressed flat against my chest. He pushed me into the pillows, but it wasn’t rough or forceful, it was just direction. I hooked my arms up over the back of the couch, careful not to interrupt him as he lifted off his knees.
“Josh,” I whispered, suddenly so unsure that I wasn’t forcing him into something he didn’t want.
“Dean,” he inhaled my name like it was a breath of air he desperately needed, and inched closer. His leg hooked over mine, and he hovered over my lap, staring down at me with a tight, nervous jaw.
“Are you okay?” I asked him. I needed to know. I dug my fingers into the fabric of the couch to hold myself still as he lowered onto my lap. I ground my teeth together as his weight settled comfortably around me, and I wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him how proud I was of him for doing any of this, but I couldn’t open my mouth.
I relinquished all the control to him.
His eyes darted to mine from my lips, and I could see how terrified he was, but there was something else there, certainty? Confidence?Need.
“Don’t move, okay?” The question came out a whisper and I wanted to nod but he told me not to move so I was going to listen and sit still for him while he worked out what he wanted just hoping that the want led tous.
I closed my eyes in hopes that it would help him calm down, but he paused.
“Look at me,” he said
I opened them, and he was staring at me so nervously that he was practically vibrating. I stifled the anxious laughter that threatened to bubble up from me, knowing that it would scare him away and instead breathed through my nose. The cinnamon kissed every sense as Josh rebuilt his courage and leaned in. His fingers dug into his sweats, pulling the fabric under his intense touch in a feeble attempt to hide his emotions.
Our bottom lips collided in a delicate kiss that wasn’t angry or rushed; it was just him and I. Quiet seeped in around us, and it took everything in me not to reach for his sides and pull him deeper into my lap. I wanted his body flush to mine, I wanted my arms around his back. His lips were so feathery and distracting from the tension he was clearly fighting as butterflies ran rampant in my stomach and my heart beat skipped around in my chest like a ping pong ball.
He retreated, and I felt myself follow him, my hips involuntarily lifting from the couch as my body gravitated toward him, daring to steal more from his trembling lip.
Josh paused, briefly letting me take the kiss that I needed, but one that scared him to no end. He licked his bottom lip and settled back on my thighs, his fingers still tangled into the fabric and his shoulders so tense I could snap him in half with the poke of a finger.
“What was that for?” I asked, reeling from the contact, wanting so much more. The couch creaked beneath my grip, and Josh’s eyes flicked to my white knuckles with a quiet hum.
I had never been that high in my life.
Everything was quiet except for Josh’s heavy breathing and the sting left on my lips from his absence. It was the longest moment of my life, wondering when and if he’d come back for more. He sat so quietly that I wasn’t sure he’d even heard me ask. I wanted to put my hands on him, to feel his skin, but without permission, I was stuck waiting for him to figure out what he wanted, what he needed.
When Josh decided to come back, I think my chest exploded with frantic impatience. It was such a small kiss but I had never been touched like that, with such careful exploration. It was new, but with Josh it felt familiar.
My palms were sweaty against the itchy fabric of the couch, but my mind was lost in the way our lips crushed together, sealing in the air and making me dizzy from the lack of oxygen. I wanted to devour him, to explore every inch of his freckled, scarred skin until I knew it by heart. So it would show up in my dreams on those days he couldn’t bear to crawl into my bed.
Suddenly, the meaning of need felt new—loud, and ringing in my ears.
I needed Josh.
A low whine of disappointment slipped out of me—pathetic, but Josh’s kiss-bitten lips curled into a tiny smirk.
“Thank you,” he said in a tone so soft I couldn’t believe that it had left Josh.
“You’re welcome?” My voice lifted in a confused question.
“For making it easy,” he finished, clearing the air.
