10. Dove
DOVE
T he first thing I noticed as I woke was something comfy and warm, yet oddly solid, under my cheek. I was more than used to my down feather pillow that practically molded to my head when I laid down at night. What I was lying against was comfortable, sure, but most definitely not soft.
I cracked one eye open, my mind waking slowly, groggily, as if from a deep, sated sleep—a rarity for me. The flickering glow of the muted living room TV met my gaze, too bright in the surrounding darkness, and I shut my eye again against the glare, thinking.
I was downstairs.
Why was I downstairs?
Giving myself time to wake up, I snuggled deeper into the cozy warmth below me, freezing as I rose with subtle up and down movements, a steady heartbeat pulsing under my ear.
Both my eyes flew open, panic seizing me at the realization of what—no, who—I’d been sleeping on.
The night before came rushing back in vivid detail: Josh and I sitting down to eat, choosing a movie, the comfort of a full belly, and the soothing presence of him beside me, lulling me to sleep before the opening scenes had even finished.
Frozen in fear, I momentarily held my breath, waiting to see if my stirring had woken Josh.
When his breathing remained even, I let out a silent sigh and relaxed, his quiet, barely audible snores evidence he was still asleep.
The fact I was so comfortable made it difficult to gather the willpower to move, a part of me content to stay right where I was, pressed against him.
It’d been years since I’d last seen Josh, even longer since I’d been this close to him, surrounded by his familiar, comforting smell, his skin near enough to mine to feel the heat it gave off.
I wanted to sigh and burrow deeper, but I knew not only that I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t .
We weren’t teenagers anymore, attached at the hip and spending every day working together on the farm. We were adults, distanced from one another by so many adult things like time and hurt and?—
And the fact you want to get dicked down by him , my treacherous inner voice supplied. It sounded suspiciously like Reverie.
I frowned against the hard chest under me and slowly pulled away. I wiped at my mouth self-consciously, hoping I hadn’t drooled. God, how embarrassing would that be?
As I sat up, my eyes trailed over his peacefully slumbering face.
Josh wasn’t old by any means, only about three years older than me, really, but he looked so much younger in his sleep.
Since I’d met him, he always carried the air of someone older than he actually was.
At first, I’d assumed he was older, but I’d learned age held no bearing on why he acted mature.
Josh had been dealt a similar fate as me, touched by the harsh realities of life and forced to grow up too quickly in dealing with them.
I could commiserate, knowing all too well the unfairness of loss.
But as I’d grown closer to Josh, learned his hurts and the feelings he kept buried, I realized it wasn’t just the past that haunted him.
It was what he carried from the tragedy instead—a grief so deep it could never heal, and a misplaced resentment that drove a wedge through an already fractured family.
Those were the things that had aged Josh so much, deepened the lines of his face and chased the youth from his spirit.
It was one of the reasons why every laugh that fell from his lips felt like a victory to me.
Every smile a prize. Neither one of us had been laughing much when we first met, but it was all we did in those last few years before he left.
Somehow, we’d healed one another. It’s why his leaving had created such a deep wound in me.
But I didn’t want to think about that right now, not about his leaving, or about his tentative return.
I wanted to sit here and simply be in this moment, beside him, to watch as he peacefully slept on, wondering what he was dreaming about behind those closed eyelids. His hair had dried funny from his shower, smooshed slightly from where his head was titled back along the sofa.
He’ll have a crick in his neck for sure .
But I didn’t dare move him.
Feeling emboldened by the freedom his sleep gave me, my eyes trailed lower over his smooth forehead, down to the dark lashes fanned against his cheeks.
A scatter of freckles, gifted by the sun, dotted his skin, and I itched to press a kiss to every last one.
I resisted, letting my gaze wander on. If simple freckles could tempt me, they were nothing compared to the pull of his lips—dusty pink, the bottom just a touch fuller than the top, as if daring someone to take a bite.
God, I wanted so badly for it to be me.
It reminded me of the summer of my freshman year, when I’d crept around the side of the barn, lured by the huskiness in Josh’s voice, and annoyed by Stella’s answering high-pitched giggle.
Spying, I’d leaned around the corner only to find Josh pinned to the wall.
I’d watched with bated breath as she raised up on her tiptoes, teasing him with a lewd kiss before falling back on her heels.
Josh’s lip still trapped between her teeth.
His low groan had me swinging myself back around the corner, heart racing, pressing myself against the barn in shock. A heat so different than the sun grew inside me, and a deep throb had me squirming in a way I didn’t quite understand, but was beginning to.
That was the first time I’d wished it’d been me with Josh, instead of Stella.
It wasn’t the last.
Now, though, Stella was gone, and I was here. Perhaps just as close as she had been that day, but no closer to having what she had, no matter how much I wished it.
My dry throat demanded water, but I didn’t dare move.
Afraid if I moved even the slightest inch, it would be forward, toward Josh and his kissable, slightly parted lips.
The stubble shadowing his jaw was like an arrow beckoning me onward, encouraging my eyes to trail down his bared neck.
My lips tingled with the urge to press a kiss to his fluttering pulse.
I couldn’t touch, but I could look , right?
There was no harm in looking.
Look I did, mesmerized by the swell of his biceps and the pull of the shirt across his chest. The name scrawled across it in faded letters, PowerFlex Fitness , was unknown to me.
A place he’d clearly spent a lot of time at, if the muscles hidden beneath the fabric were any indication.
A place somewhere outside the perimeter of our small town, located in a place Josh now called home.
The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I skipped over the blocky letters with disdain.
His broad chest tapered into a narrower waist, but he was far from slim.
Josh had always been tall and lean from years of farm work.
Somewhere in the time he’d been away, he’d grown into himself, grown into his height and weight in a way that had me wondering what he’d been up to in the years he’d been gone.
Josh had always been bigger than me, but now…
now he seemed massive in comparison, all solid muscle beneath soft skin.
I nearly died when I noticed the hem of his T-shirt had ridden up just enough to reveal a thin line of skin, paler than his arms or face, considering Josh had taken to keeping his shirt on outside.
It puzzled me because he never used to. No one would ever call Josh shy, not when he would sling his sweaty shirt off whenever the heat got the best of him, tucking it into his back pocket like an afterthought as he continued on with whatever he was doing.
I’d always secretly enjoyed the heat waves we’d endure in summer because it meant I’d get a glimpse of Josh’s glistening, bronze chest.
The memory turned my quiet breaths shallow, and my hand itched to slip beneath his shirt, to pull it up and see what was beneath it.
That enticing strip of skin looked so soft, with the barest peek of hair visible, hair I knew would lead me further down to somewhere I’d never seen, but I’d dreamt of seeing. Of doing more than just looking.
The wrongness of my thoughts was an afterthought as I imagined what he looked like underneath the baggy material of his sweatpants. It’d been torture, watching him descend the stairs in them earlier. Now I knew why everyone online raved about men wearing them.
I wanted to touch. God, I wanted to touch so badly.
I knew it was wrong, considering he was lying there, unaware of my gaze and my wanting, but the ache didn’t care about right or wrong.
My hands, tense at my sides, had curled into fists.
I forced my fingers to unfurl, and the moment they did, as if freed from restraint, they reached instinctively for the tempting sliver of exposed skin.
I froze, my hand suspended just inches away.
I couldn’t touch Josh while he was sleeping.
I couldn’t touch Josh period . Having these thoughts was one thing, but taking advantage of Josh while he slept?
I may have harbored a crush on this man for longer than I cared to admit, but that was no excuse.
Ashamed, I withdrew my hand.
The sound of a breath catching in someone’s throat had me freezing, my hand still in the space between our bodies.
A cold sweat broke out over my skin as dread laced through me.
My eyes trailed the path they’d taken, back up Josh’s stomach to focus on his still chest. Where his breathing was no longer coming in soft inhales and exhales.
I forced myself to keep going, heart pounding in my chest as my gaze continued up, over the length of his neck, skipping over his lips entirely, only for my widened blue eyes to meet his half hooded, sleepy gaze.
Relief rushed through me. Good, maybe he hadn’t seen anything.
“Do you want to touch me, Dove?” Josh questioned, voice gravelly from sleep.
The raspy way he said my name sent shivers running through me, the fabric of my tank top rubbing roughly against my pebbled nipples.
His gaze flickered down, as if drawn to them, where they were likely visible from the light casting off the television.
I had to be imagining the way his eyes turned molten, vanishing any trace of sleep from his gaze.
“I—I’m going to bed.” I ignored his question, standing up swiftly and crossing my arms. “It’s not comfortable on the couch.” Liar , my mind hissed at me. His chest had rivaled my bed, enticing with its warmth. “We can probably get a few hours in before we have to get up. G-goodnight.”
I slipped around the couch and raced up the stairs, my heart pounding with each step I took.
When I was in the safety of my bedroom, curled under my covers, all I could focus on was how cold and empty the space seemed. How warm and safe I’d been while sleeping with Josh.
Wide awake, willing my heart to calm down, I strained to hear the creek of the stairs indicating he was going to bed as well.
It never came, and I fell asleep wondering if he’d still be here in the morning, or if I’d be left alone, again.
I’d have no one to blame but myself.