between my legs, I felt swollen and ready for him.
I started to lean back, ready for him to take me right there on the kitchen counter.
Josh made a quick move and pulled me from the counter against his body.
I wrapped my legs around him.
He put me at eye level.
I then took my turn and cupped his face.
Feeling the scruff.
Tasting his breath.
His eyes battling with mine.
“Say something,” I whispered.
“You really want to hear something?”
“Yes. Please…”
Josh then said something I never expected to hear.
“… if there’s a chance to love you, I’d risk my life. If I could find the right words, I would repeat them every day until I could no longer speak. If I could just touch you… to know I feel whole…”
He kissed me and walked toward his bed.
Those words… perfectly spoken.
Just like in the letter to Delilah.
Which meant…
The letter to Delilah was written by Josh.
I gasped as Josh put me down on his bed.
I looked into his eyes and saw that he was vulnerable.
Maybe I should have stopped him right there before things got too crazy.
But I didn’t.
The vulnerability made him sexier, if that were possible.
My hands clawed at the back of his shirt, giving the silent order that it needed to come off. Which it did as he stood up and ripped it over his head. I bit my lip as my eyes scrambled to see, memorize, and lock every inch of his cut body into my memory for personal use only.
In a daring move, Josh fell to his knees, hitting the floor with a thud.
I jumped up on my elbows and watched with my jaw dropped as he eased his hands under my shirt and inched it up. Then his hands kept going, leaving my shirt where it was. His big, artist hands crested the swell of my breasts, over my bra, still strong, yet soothing. He squeezed hard enough to make me moan. But my breath was quickly stolen when I felt his lips touch my belly. I wanted to gasp, but the sound was inaudible. The flicker of his tongue against my skin made me shiver. He kissed a few inches up and then decided to playfully draw a straight line down my body. He was stopped by the top of my jeans. As I started to move my hands, needing to give him everything I had to offer, his hands moved faster.
I managed to look down and I watched as he opened my jeans. His fingertips then played along the inside of the top of my panties. Gently tracing from hip to hip, leaving a warm torture spreading between my legs. The desire and the ache came together, the years of thinking and maybe even waiting, all building to this moment.
Josh must have known it too because he moved his hands to my hips and curled his fingers tightly around both my panties and my jeans. He paused long enough to look at me. There was a slight curl to his lip. He was my protector. My fierce protector. Who looked mean and pissed off, but that made me feel comfortable.
“Josh…”
I found a letter. I think you wrote it. To someone named Delilah. Someone that you obviously love. So why are you…
Josh pulled and lowered his mouth down to my lower belly.
I cried out and lifted my hips, letting him slide my panties and jeans down my body. His hands kept going, all the way down to my ankles, stripping my clothes off. His kisses were soft and caring as he moved toward my left thigh. I shivered and fought back the urge to laugh from the ticklish feeling that went through me.
Then his hands returned, touching just inside my knees. He gently parted my legs and moved his hands up, sliding along warm skin, seeking out even warmer skin.
I swallowed hard and rocked my hips forward, wanting him.
In another bout of cliché things to think or say, I wanted his tongue to be the paintbrush and my body to be the canvas.
I blushed at the thought, but that’s where this was going.
I bit my lip again as the fingertips of his right hand touched my folds. He made a wide, circular motion, spreading me open. There was no hiding how ready I was for him. The sound of his fingers against my honey echoed around us. He slid his fingers up and over my mound. His thumb trailed, peeling me open, gently rubbing my clit, forcing me to groan with the desperate