shifts, and drags me back.
This time, the movement tugs at the blanket around his waist.
There’s a bulge humping up under that blanket.
Oh, my God. He’s hard.
Hard for me.
His breathing picks up, no longer smooth and deep. He grabs my wrist and peels my fingers off him, as if he doesn’t want me to touch him anymore.
I can’t stop staring into his lap.
This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. I drifted off to sleep, and now I’m having one of those dreams where I wake up tingling and wet after.
Josiah brings my hand to his mouth, and kisses my knuckle. The heel of my palm. The inside of my wrist.
Gentle little kisses I’d never have expected someone as fierce as him to be capable of.
Then he puts my hand on his belly and slowly moves it down. He stops before I reach the blanket.
I don’t have the courage to move it lower. I can barely breathe as it is. Josiah grasps my chin and tilts back my head, watching me for the longest time, scanning my face.
“You should go.” His voice is thick and rough, curt even.
My heart thumps like it wants to break free. “Yes,” I manage, despite every cell in my body screaming at me to stay.
His breath washes over my mouth, and my lips tingle. I lick them on automatic, and his eyes dart to my mouth.
“I dream about you,” he murmurs, still watching my mouth.
My belly tightens. “You do?”
“It’s sick.”
I swallow hard, too scared to ask.
“The things I do to you when I dream. They’re sick.”
My eyelids flutter at those words. I squeeze my legs together, trapping the sudden fierce ache in my core.
“Tell me.”
His eyes widen a little, then he shakes his head. He moves a section of my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear.
That same fingertip trails down my jaw, over my chin, brushes my lips.
I squirm and move up against him.
I’m hot and tight, and all I want is for him to unravel me, to lay me bare.
“No,” he says. “You won’t look at me again.”
“Tell me.” Despite my pounding heart, my prickling skin, I force my hand down an inch. My pinkie brushes the blanket on his lap.
Josiah’s body tenses. A puff of hot air washes over my mouth, and I’m forced to lick my lips again.
“Careful, darling,” he warns in a low voice. “That bell can’t be unrung.”
“Josiah—”
But then his mouth is flush with my throat.
I expect him to devour me, to tear me apart. Instead, his kiss is light as a feather, a sensual tease that makes me ache for something harder, rougher, fiercer.
My hand delves under the blanket. I skim the elastic of his boxers, my fingertips thrilling over that satiny fabric.
He grips the back of my neck, and works his way toward my mouth. Electric tension courses through my body in wave after wave of delicious, intoxicating lust.
I touch the tip of his cock a second later. It fills his underwear, engorged to the point of spilling out.
My breath hitches, and at the same instant, he tears his mouth from my skin.
He snatches my wrist and presses my hand to his chest.
His heart pounds in time with mine, his chest rising and falling erratically under my palm.
“We can’t do this,” he says.
“It’s just kissing.” I dart forward, burning to taste his mouth, my body aching for him to run his hands all over me.
“I won’t be able to stop,” he rasps.
“Who said I wanted you to?”
“We’re not thinking straight.”
I let out a laugh. “And?”
Josiah leans back and examines me. The predatory light gleaming in his eyes fades.
The tension between us snaps. His face slackens, and he drops his eyes.
“Josiah—”
“I’m going to bed,” he says, sitting forward stiffly and practically pushing me out of the way.
He’s right, of course.
I’m hurting, and I barely knew little Emma. I can’t imagine what he must be—
Josiah’s hand comes out of nowhere.
He grabs me by the throat and pushes me against the couch. I’m so shocked, all I manage is a gargled sound of protest.
“Why can’t I stop thinking about you?” he growls.
His fingers tighten, cutting off my air. I choke and try to peel his fingers from my throat.
I can’t.
He’s too strong.
Too angry.
I pushed him too far.
“Quiet, darling,” he says quietly. His arm muscles bunch as he drags me to the side and then forces me onto my back on the couch. “The more you struggle, the more I want you.”
He tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen.
He