Chapter 21 Melanie
MELANIE
Before we head home, I take Josh for ice cream at the Franklin Fountain—an old-time ice cream parlor that only fits ten people comfortably, but there are tiny café tables inside and out and the homemade ice cream is to die for.
Josh and I each order a cone and join hands as we start the slow walk back to his car, licking the sticky ice cream as it drips own our hands.
It’s been ages since I’ve felt this content.
Josh has been the missing puzzle piece in my life for decades now.
I have always wondered what was wrong with me.
Why couldn’t I find the right one? Why did no one choose me?
It’s taken me forty-one years to be okay with not being someone’s everything, but maybe I am meant to be Josh’s.
We’re quiet as we walk, and I let my mind wander.
I let myself hope that there is more for us than just a summer thing.
That this could be our second chance. I don’t know what that would look like yet, but for the first time in my life, I’m not scared.
I’m not afraid to make a change. I think that’s saying something.
“How’s the mint chocolate chip?” Josh asks, a mischievous smile on his lips.
“So good.” I let my eyes roll back in my head. “How’s your fudge brownie?”
Josh holds his cone out for me to have a lick and I lean in, taking a long, slow lick and eyeing him as he watches me. Then, before I can stop him, he smears the chocolate cone all over my lips and the outskirts of my mouth.
“Josh!” I squeal, laughing like my younger self.
Josh doesn’t laugh. His eyes turn smoldering, and his hands wrap around my neck, tugging me to him.
“You’ve got something on your mouth,” he murmurs, his lips inches from mine.
“I better get it.”And then his mouth is on mine, kissing me deeply, like the other day outside my bedroom.
Our tongues swirl together, and the mixed taste of mint and brownies on his cool tongue has me exploring every inch of his mouth.
We are in the center of the sidewalk, pedestrians needing to step around us.
I might hear a few wolf whistles, but I’m too caught up, too engrossed in our kiss to notice.
Josh backs us off to the shoulder without breaking our kiss, threading his fingers through my hair with one hand and holding his ice cream with the other.
His mouth claims mine with hunger that has been earned, like he’s been aching for it.
Our teeth clash together as we part, Josh sucking gently on my lower lip before kissing the rest of the chocolate off the corners of my mouth. He leans his forehead into mine.
“People are staring,” I whisper, biting back a giggle.
“I don’t care.” Josh straightens and brushes a hair off my face. “I was thinking—and you can say no if you want to—but it’s getting late. Why don’t we see if the Renaissance has any rooms left for the night?”
An involuntary grin spreads across my face and butterflies flood my insides. The thought of being alone with Josh in a swanky hotel room and not my tiny apartment sends a shiver through me. “I’d like that,” I murmur.
Josh picks up my hand and licks away the melted ice cream that now coats it, a sultry look in his eyes. “Good.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking back into the hotel. The lobby is much quieter, and I am buzzing. I lean against the counter as Josh talks to the front desk, his flirtatious smile working to his advantage.
“Hey, aren’t you that musician who sang out here earlier today?” the clerk asks. She’s about our age with honey-colored curls and clear green eyes. I wait for Josh to check her out, but he doesn’t. He reaches for my hand instead, giving it a familiar squeeze.
“We both did, yeah.” Josh flicks his gaze to me, a smile grazing his lips.
“That’s so cool,” the clerk murmurs, clicking around on her screen. “It looks like the only thing I have left for tonight is a Parkview suite on the top floor.”
“Saturday night in the summer, I guess.” Josh says with a chuckle, lifting his hands, then turns back to the clerk. “We’ll take it.” He slaps his credit card on the counter, looking at me with mischievous eyes.
The elevator doors are barely closed before Josh’s mouth and hands are on me.
He backs me into the corner, raking his palms up my back, threading his fingers through my hair.
His mouth crashes into mine, his stubble burning my chin—reckless, urgent, real.
Soft and savage all at once. My breath catches, years of deprivation unraveling between our lips.
Josh drags his tongue along my neck and jaw, leaving tiny fires in his wake. Our mouths collide; our hands are everywhere. I feel him grow hard and time folds in on itself. It’s messy and breathless, all teeth, tongue, and heat. But it’s familiar—like coming home. And it makes me ache with want.
The elevator dings and the doors open. Josh tears his mouth away from mine, taking my hand and leading me quickly down the hallway—as if the floor is on fire.
We find our room quickly, and Josh fiddles with the keycard. I run my hands up and down his back, under his tight-fitting T-shirt. A low hum starts between my legs in anticipation. The key card doesn’t work at first, blinking red.
Josh lets out a growl as I drag my fingernails down his back. “Come on,” he says to the door. He pauses to kiss me again, softer this time, cupping the back of my head and pulling me to him. “I need you,” he rasps.
Finally, as if the door itself understood his plea, it opens, and we’re in the middle of a swanky hotel room overlooking the night skyline. There’s a black accent wall and a red chaise lounge, but all we notice is the king-size bed.
Josh swallows, letting my hand drop. He takes a step closer to me, cupping my cheek. My pulse speeds up and my breath hitches as Josh plants a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, slow and sensual, prompting me to open for him. Our tongues dance slowly, our breaths mixing, soft and steady.
Josh pulls back, his expression soft. “Mel,” he says, and my name catches in his throat. I let myself believe he’s been waiting for this too.
“I know,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his.
And then his mouth is on mine again, the feel of his hard body tangling excitement and caution together.
My heart pounds, like it remembers every kiss that came before this one.
All the sadness, the longing, the ache of what we used to share is poured into this moment.
Josh’s kiss turns hesitant as his fingers fiddle with the strap of my shortalls.
“Do you want this as much as I do?” he growls through fervent kisses.
I nod because I don’t want to pull away. “Uh-huh.” It comes out like a breathless moan.
Josh unhooks the first strap of my shortalls, and it falls to the side. His mouth moves to my bare shoulder, and he kisses it softly, flicking his gaze up to mine. He cups my cheek, softly circling his thumb, and our eyes meet—the unspoken hope that maybe we’re on the edge of rewriting everything.
He unhooks the other strap, and the shortalls fall to the ground. All at once I’m standing there in a lace purple thong and a tight white crop top, but I don’t feel exposed; I feel cherished.
Josh’s breath hitches as he drags his eyes up my body.
His fingers graze my hip bone, the urgency from moments ago replaced with something savory.
I tug at the hem of his T-shirt, and he helps me pull it off before returning his focus to me.
Josh’s mouth finds mine, his teeth nibbling at my lower lip before he drags his mouth across my jaw, down my neck and shoulder.
He crouches as he kisses down my body to the hemline of my panties.
His tongue grazes the purple lace and he sucks in a breath, cupping my ass.
“May I?” His voice is gravelly. He slips a finger under the lace band and looks up at me for approval.
“Yes,” I breathe. It comes out like a sigh.
That’s all Josh needs to hear because he yanks the purple lace to the floor, simultaneously kissing me from hip to hip.
I tug him up off his knees and his mouth finds mine.
He grips me tighter as I begin working at the button on his jeans, then the zipper.
He steps out of them, never breaking the contact of our thirsty mouths.
He pulls the hem of my crop top, and I let him yank it over my head.
All that stands between us now is a bra and a pair of boxer briefs stretched with his desire.
We pull apart, assessing each other quietly.
I swallow and reach behind me, unhooking my bra.
I let it fall to the floor, revealing my breasts, the chill in the room instantly hardening my nipples.
Josh lets out a gasp before enveloping one and then the other, sucking each one until soft moans escape me.
I slide my fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, wanting desperately to see the man he’s grown into.
His shoulders are broad, and his chest is hairless, save for a light blond happy trail.
I tug them down, and my breath catches. Tattooed in black, just beneath the happy trail are our words:
You’re the reason I go on
A gasp falls from my mouth. “That’s…my handwriting.” My voice is barely audible.
Josh clears his throat, looking down at the words etched in his skin. “It is. I took it from the copy of the lyrics you gave me.” His voice is hoarse, thick with emotion.
I run my fingers over the ink and lick my lips. Josh cups the back of my head, pulling my gaze up to his. “You saved the lyrics?” I ask, tears welling in the back of my eyes.
“I saved it all, Mel. Every note we passed, every photo, every lyric.” Josh’s voice catches. He takes a shuddering breath and strokes my cheek with his thumb.
“When did you get it?” I ask, softly.
“My eighteenth birthday,” Josh replies. “My memories of you—they kept me going all these years.”
A stray tear escapes my eye, and my mouth crashes into his, all the hunger and urgency returned. We fall onto the end of the bed, Josh hovering over me.
“Let’s see if we can make up for lost time,” he rasps.
I don’t argue.