Oh shit. I think I just told Josh I’m in love with him.
He feeds me another bite of sandwich but doesn’t say anything for a long beat.
“Water?” he finally asks, his voice tight.
“What?” My cheeks feel flushed. I just told him I love him in a clever sort of backhanded-code, didn’t I?
Josh holds up the water bottle. “Thirsty?”
“Oh. Yeah. Thank you.”
He holds the bottle to my lips and I take a long guzzle, my heart racing. Damn. I wish I’d told him more clearly than that, in a way that would have left no doubt. I shouldn’t have been so subtle. I should have said, “This sandwich is so good,it made me fall deeply in love with you, Joshua William Faraday.” But I didn’t. I left it vague. “Yeah, that’s what I have,” I said—and nothing more. Idiot. And now the moment has passed.
“Chips?” Josh asks.
“What kind?”
“Doritos.” He holds up a little red bag. “Original flavor.”
“Thank you.”
He pops a chip into my mouth and then into his own. “Fuck you, Jonas—I eat what I want—although I must admit I feel kinda bad I’m chowing down on Doritos while gourmet meals are sitting in my fridge.”
“How about we eat Jonas’ food tomorrow night?” I say. “We can stay in and rent a movie.”
“Awesome. Yeah, a quiet night at home with my Party Girl with a Hyphen sounds damned good. More water, babe?”
I shake my head. “I’m good. I’m done.”
“You ready to keep going with the porno?”
I nod.
“Cool. I’ve got my entire speech ready for act three.” He stows the remaining food in the cooler. “Give me my cue, babe,” he says softly. “I’m gonna slay it.”
I clear my throat. “Untie me, Joshua,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore. I need my freedom.”
Josh touches my cheek tenderly. “Katherine, when Iabscondedwith you, all I cared about was making you mine, through any means necessary. All I cared about was what I wanted. But now, even though I want you more than ever, I care too much about you to keep you as my prisoner anymore. Now the thing I want more than my own happiness is yours.” He touches the cleft in my chin.
Holy Exploding Heart, Batman. Not To Mention Ovaries. I know Josh was merely following the loose script I babbled to him in Las Vegas, but he delivered his lines with such breathtaking sincerity, my heart seems to have lost its ability to discern fantasy from reality.
“Hang on,” he says. He gets up and walks behind the bed, outside of my field of vision. I strain against my bindings. What’s he doing? He’s supposed to untie me now and ravage me as a free woman.
A song begins playing over the sound system and my heart stops. Holy shitballs. He’s cued up “If You Ever Want To Be In Love” by James Bay—the song that made Josh literally bolt out of his bedroom when it came on last night. Oh my effing God.
Josh returns to the bed. His clothes are off and his hard-on is massive. He sits on the edge of the bed, gazing at me with smoldering eyes, and slowly begins untying me.
Holy shitballs.
The minute I’m free, he pulls my nightie and underwear off my body and guides me onto his lap and straight onto his erection. I take him into me and wrap my thighs around his waist, throw my arms around his neck, and ride him feverishly, spurred on by the song—and especially what it means that he’s decided to play it for me in this magical moment.
“Don’t leave me,” Josh whispers, cradling me in his arms, fucking me, caressing me, kissing my face.
I’m lost in him. I gyrate my hips on top of him and smash my breasts against his muscled chest, desperately trying to press my beating heart against his.
“Josh,” I breathe. I can barely push air into my lungs. I’m gasping for air, suddenly overcome by a surge of energy coursing between us.
I want him. I need him.I love him.
