Terms + Conditions (Strangers #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THEN

November 2018

I’VE REREAD THE SAME damn sentence forty fucking times now. Every time I try to focus on this damn book, my mind wanders to the woman standing on the other side of the wall with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. The water gushes from the faucet as she finishes brushing her teeth and begins her nighttime face routine. It’s the same thing every night—brush teeth, remove makeup, wash face, apply lotion and serums (don’t ask me which ones, but I know there’s a particular order), apply Chapstick, and change. Same thing. Every night. How do I know this? Because we have been “together” for almost three years. Sometimes, it feels like it’s been much longer than that. Others it feels like just yesterday we were signing on the dotted line.

We’ve had our ups and downs, like everyone else, but despite it all, we’ve managed to become friends. Real friends. And right now, I wouldn’t say we’re “dating,” but we aren’t on bad terms either, and that’s okay. After our breakup last October, we never got back together. Christmas helped us ease back into friendly terms, though. Slowly but surely, we found our footing, and we have been able to open up again little by little. I’d rather be friends than nothing at all. It’s better than being stuck together when all you want is space from the other person. And two months ago, when I came down for the sixth anniversary of her parents’ death, we had the conversation we’d been dreading since the beginning of all this: the engagement. Elizabeth was graduating in the spring, which meant the clock on our impending nuptials was ticking. We had six months after May 31st to say I Do, per the contract. That meant we had to be married before the end of November, which was only one year from now.

Elizabeth moves to the closet to finish her routine and change out of her jeans and black floral blouse into her nightgown, but I interrupt her.

“Can we talk?” The words tumble out and she steps out of the closet—one foot in and one foot out—about to undo the buttons of her blouse. She throws a suspicious glance my way. “I just, I want to…do something.”

I clamber out of bed and meet her on the other side.

“Okay.” She draws out the word. “Is something wrong?”

“No!” I clear my throat. “No, I just…Liz, I—”

Okay, Josh. Relax. Take a deep breath. You can do this. It’s just Elizabeth. Your friend. Your partner. The other half of your equation for the next seven-ish years.

Taking her hands, I take another breath and drop to one knee. Her brown eyes widen—bigger than I have ever seen before. Normally, the scene would be quite romantic. Cozy night at home, a fire in the faux fireplace across the room, the only other light coming from the Christmas tree in the corner. I had come down two weeks ago to help her decorate for Christmas because Elizabeth did not play when it came to decorating for her favorite holiday. “Elizabeth Regina Cain, I—”

“Josh, what are you doing?” She interrupts me. “We said we’d do this at—”

“I know.” I stop her. “I know we said we’d do this at Thanksgiving with the family, and that’s fine. We can. But I wanted to do this here, just us. Without all the fanfare and glamour that Brina and Nina forced upon me as soon as I told them what I was planning to do.”

Her features soften, and she squeezes my hand slightly.

“When I met you four years ago, I never imagined we’d be where we are today. But from the moment I met you, I knew you’d be an important piece of my life. You were beautiful and kind, funny…and you never took any of my shit. I liked that, even if I didn’t want to admit it. And now…Now, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Whether we come out of this as friends or lovers, I just know that I don’t want to do life without you.”

Tears begin to brim her eyes and mine. Fuck, I didn’t think I’d be this emotional.

Swallowing back the tears, I say, “I know this isn’t perfect. It’s not the life you imagined, and I’m not the husband you imagined but just know that I’ll do everything I can to make the next seven-ish years as painless as possible for you. So, Elizabeth Regina Cain…Will you be my wife?”

A tear slips down her cheek as she takes a shaky breath and nods. I don’t hesitate. I stand and capture her lips in a kiss that catches us both off guard. We haven’t been intimate in over a year unless you count the PDA we have to display in front of others. Every time, it leaves me wanting more. But this kiss…There’s something different. Something real and raw. My mouth moves against hers; our tongues dance in a desperate embrace. Elizabeth wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me impossibly closer, and I delve deeper into her, earning a soft moan against my lips.

“Elizabeth,” I whisper against her.

She presses a chaste kiss to my lips as her fingers move to undo the buttons of her blouse. I take her hands, stopping her. I don’t want her to feel pressured into something she doesn’t want.

Just because I proposed doesn’t mean she has to offer herself to me, even if I’m desperate for her. We haven’t slept together in the three years we’ve been together. It was a conversation we had on my second trip down to Savannah after I kissed her and left to drive back home on her first night in the townhouse. Elizabeth said she wanted to wait until marriage. She wanted her first time to be with someone who she knew truly loved her.

After she told me, William’s eagerness to jump ship and screw around with the girls at Duke made more sense. He didn’t want to wait around when he had plenty of fish right in front of him. Elizabeth told me she would consider compromising since we were going to get married eventually, but I refused. I wasn’t going to compromise something she believed in, regardless of if we were going to get married. I wouldn’t push her. And while a man has needs , it hasn’t been that bad. There are other…ways to keep the needs at bay.

“Liz—”

“Josh.”

“We don’t have to do this.” I tuck a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. “You said—”

“Not like I can change my mind now.”

“Elizabeth, if you aren’t one hundred percent sure—”

“I am.”

I swallow hard. I don’t want to push her into something. I don’t want her to compromise herself because she thinks she has to. I’ve waited this long; I can wait a little longer. I can wait as long as she needs. “Elizabeth, I don’t want you to give up something you’ve held onto and held sacred just because—”

“You’re my husband, Josh.” The words send a shock wave through my system. “You became my husband the second we signed that damn paper three years ago.”

“I’d rather it happen when you want it to. Not just because I proposed. You said—”

“And I want this,” she says.

Fuck, I want this too. So bad. But I’m scared she will wake up in the morning and regret it.

In my moment of hesitation, she steps closer, her hands wrapping around the back of my neck, pulling me down to meet her lips. “I want you.”

“Elizabeth,” I whisper, her breath skating across my face. My fingers brush against her flushed cheek before I kiss her. There’s a different spark that erupts between us. This one is different than anything I’ve felt in the past. The burn in my veins tells me we’re crossing into new territory.

The line of no return.

She whimpers when I bite down on her bottom lip, plying open her mouth and stroking her tongue. I tighten my grip on her hips and push further against her, her back scraping against the doorframe of her closet, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her arms wrap tighter around my neck, a vice grip, and I lift her feet off the ground, wrapping her legs around my waist. I moan against her mouth when she grinds against me. She tastes like the butterscotch she was eating earlier—a mix of sweet and savory. I would be perfectly fine if we stopped right now. If we parted ways and went to bed, but fuck, I don’t want to. I want all of her.

I carry her to the bed and gently lay her back before leaving a trail of kisses down her jaw to her neck. She gasps when I bite softly on the skin of her collarbone. Her shirt opens with a pop of each button, and I leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses to her chest and down to her stomach. Thirteen jagged scars span across her torso that have slightly faded over the years. She tries to cover her stomach, but I push her hand away and hold her gaze, pressing a light kiss against the discolored skin. Tears cloud her eyes when I do the same to each one before I bring her left wrist to my lips and do the same to the right, never taking my eyes off hers. I crawl back up her body and stop just before our lips meet. “You’re beautiful.”

A shaky inhale against my lips.

“And strong.” I kiss her neck.

“Courageous.” The valley between her breasts.

“Stubborn,” I say against her stomach, and she laughs.

“Caring,” I mumble against the skin just above her jeans.

Slowly, I unzip the denim, and she helps me shimmy them down her legs. My fingers trace her center over the underwear, and she gasps. “Already so wet for me, huh, Sugar?”

“Josh,” she groans.

“Patience.” I blow on her center through the damp cloth, and she squirms under my hold. Lying beside her, I pull her body close to mine, propping my head on my left hand to look down at her. “Can you stay still?”

My other hand traces a line down the center of her body, and I can feel her vibrate with anticipation. I stop at the edge of the white cotton.

“I’ve waited three years to know what you taste like. I can wait a few more minutes. I want to watch first, watch as you come undone with just my fingers, and then my mouth, and then my dick. I want to know what makes you tick…so I’m going to take my time with you, Sugar. Going to enjoy every moment of this.”

Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, and I haven’t even touched her yet.

I say her name, catching her attention. “Can you do that for me?”

She nods, and I slip my hand inside her underwear. A finger ghosts over her entrance, and she bucks against my hand greedily.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” I slip one finger inside her and then another. Her fingers clutch the white duvet covering the bed, trying not to move. Her walls tighten around my fingers, and I slip one more inside her, using the heel of my palm to rub her clit. She gasps, eyes screwed shut. She’s trying so hard not to move, her fingers white against the sheet. “Look at you, Sugar. Fuck, you look so good like this.”

“Josh,” she whimpers.

She’s close, I can feel it. Feel the way her body winds up around my fingers, milking them; feel the way her body vibrates with each stroke of my palm on the bundle of nerves between her legs. Without warning, I pull my hand from her and bring my fingers to my mouth. Her eyes meet mine as I stick my index and middle finger in my mouth.

Fuck.

I moan, she tastes so good. I smile when I pull my fingers from my mouth and kiss her, plying her mouth open and stroking her tongue so she can taste herself. “You taste better than I thought, baby.”

She whines against my lips.

“Soon, Sugar.” I nip her bottom lip and slip my fingers back inside her. I crook my fingers to find the spot that will make her come and let my palm rub against her clit to create the perfect storm.

I push the fabric of her bra to the side and take one of her hardened nipples into my mouth. She practically jumps off the bed when my teeth graze the sensitive bud. Her body vibrates, and my name falls from her lips, she’s so close to the edge…I hum against the soft flesh of her breast and suckle on her nipple.

“Come for me, Sugar,” I whisper against her chest before biting her nipple, and she does. She tries to pull away from my assault on the sensitive bud between her legs, but I don’t give in just yet. Her voice wavers under the pressure when she cries out my name. Without hesitation, I pull her underwear down her legs before tossing the cloth aside. I kiss her stomach and settle between her legs, resting them over my shoulders.

She gasps when I blow a small puff of air against her entrance before I lick one stripe up her center. Manicured fingers dig into my hair, twisting and pulling with each lick that follows. When she tries to pull away from me, I wrap my arms around her thighs and hold her still. A string of expletives and moans of pleasure fill the air around us, and when I push one finger inside her alongside my tongue, the sound she makes is heavenly.

Our eyes meet briefly before I push another finger inside, and my teeth scrape across her clit. Her head falls back, her mouth agape, and her hips buck against me.

“Baby,” she moans. I can barely hear her, but the word sends a jolt to my dick.

Never has she used a term of endearment, not even when we gave dating a real try. Nothing outside of the occasional “hun” that’s required in front of the family because calling me Josh or Joshua twenty-four-seven might raise a red flag or two.

“Baby, please,” she gasps. She bucks against my mouth again, and I curl my fingers to reach the spot that will send her spiraling. My left hand reaches to massage her breast, teasing her nipple. One more suckle on the small bud of nerves, and she comes on my tongue. I moan against her, the taste of her sweet as she tugs harder on the ends of my hair.

Her chest continues to rise and fall with each breath. I push my shorts down my legs, lining myself up with her entrance.

“Look at me, Sugar,” I command, and when her dazed eyes meet mine, she smiles. “You sure ‘bout this?”

She nods, and I push inside of her slowly, letting her adjust the whole way until I’m seated fully inside her. “Fuck,” I hiss. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Shit,” she gasps.

Fuck, she’s tight. Between coming twice already and being a virgin, her walls clench my dick with no remorse.

I pull out almost all the way and push back in slowly, starting to build a good pace. Fuck, she's so wet, so tight, and she takes me so good. If she keeps making noises like that, I’m not going to fucking last.

She reaches between us to play with her clit, and if she was close to the edge, she’s one foot off now. Her right hand rakes down my bicep, nails digging into my skin when I lift her left leg over my shoulder, and with each thrust, I’m starting to lose control.

“Baby,” she whimpers, eyes screwed shut.

“You wanna come on this dick, Sugar?”

She nods.

“Hold it,” I command, and she cries. “Hold it, Sugar.”

I slow my movements, pulling all the way out and pushing back in, maintaining an excruciatingly slow pace. Once, twice, three times. “Feel good?”

She whimpers. I pull out once more and wait a moment before I say, “Come.”

As I push back in, her body spasms beneath me, her muscles clenching my cock, milking it as I continue to fuck her. I lift her hips and begin to drive harder into her until I come.