31. Tyson
THIRTY-ONE
TYSON
Josie’s beauty steals the air from my lungs.
I stay standing in the doorway, just staring at her, words completely failing me.
She’s stunning.
Something tightens in my chest. The feeling is sharp, something that was unfamiliar until I met her. I know I should say something—anything, really—but words fail me.
The hem of Josie’s dress brushes high on her thighs. The gauzy material softly shifts with every one of her small movements. I know my gaze lingers longer than it should where the cream fabric meets her tan thighs. I can’t help it. It’s taking everything in me to force my gaze upward.
My gaze continues to travel up, stalling for a moment on where I can see two peaked nipples through the fabric. I blink, wondering if I’m just imagining things. I pull my stare from the spot before I can find out if the outline of her nipples was real or in my imagination.
I meet her hazel gaze, finding her focus solely on me. She watches me closely, her shiny, glossed lips parted slightly.
“Come in?” I manage to get out. My voice comes out rougher than I intend it to, but I’m lucky I’m able to get words out at all around her right now.
Josie nods, the small movement sending a few loose curls to slip into her eyes. She’s done something different with her hair this evening. She’s carefully styled it into soft waves. The blonde strands catch the light and dance along her collarbones with every movement she makes.
I press my palm against the door and take a step back to let her in. As she passes, her shoulder brushes against my chest as she walks into my entryway.
It’s barely a touch.
If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t do anything.
But with her, the brief contact lingers in a way that, for a moment, I find it hard to breathe. Even worse, I find it incredibly hard not to reach for her to prolong the touch.
I step inside and close the door behind us—the movement maybe a little too quick—as I shove my hands into my pockets in an attempt to keep control of myself.
It doesn’t help. I still want to touch her.
I can’t help it. The memories from this morning are still fresh in my mind.
I can’t forget her mouth against mine. The way she sounded, the way she felt—how she tasted. The memory of the kiss hits harder than it should, and all I can think about is doing it again.
Josie turns to face me, a soft, almost hesitant smile on her lips.
My gaze drops to her mouth before I can think better of it.
Am I allowed to kiss her? Would she let me?
I want to taste the lip gloss from her lips. Badly.
Would she pull away if I tried?
“No smoke this time?” Josie quips, her gaze moving past me and toward the kitchen.
It takes me a moment to realize what she means, my thoughts still somewhere far less innocent.
I can’t help but laugh. “Nope. I’m trying to make a better impression this time, starting with no smoke and no alarms.” I pause for a moment as I pay close attention to her. “How am I doing?”
She playfully shrugs a shoulder. “We’ll see.”
Without even thinking twice about it, I take a small step closer to her.
“Would we be off to a better start,” I begin, my voice dropping slightly, “if I kissed you right now?”
Her eyes go wide, but instead of stepping away, she mutters, “Yes.”
That one word is all I need.
I close the distance, my hands finding her face like they already know exactly where they belong. There’s no hesitation.
Her lips eagerly meet mine like she’s been waiting for this just as desperately as I have.
Something falls to the floor next to her with a soft thud, but neither of us reacts.
Her hands slide up my neck as she pulls me in. I go easily, wanting to be as close to her as possible.
Now even closer than we were, the kiss deepens. Her tongue eagerly moves against mine, making it clear she’s been wanting a repeat of the kiss from earlier just as badly as I have.
We were only apart for half a day, and it still felt like too long.
We’ve only just met, and I’m quickly learning that no amount of time spent with her feels like enough.
I could spend my entire evening kissing her right here in the entryway, but I know it’s probably been since our brunch that she actually ate anything.
It takes more effort than it should to pull away, but I don’t go far.
I pull away just enough to break the kiss before I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath.
Our chests rise and fall together, our bodies close enough that I can still feel the warmth of her.
I stroke her cheekbone with my thumb. “I made you dinner.”
Her lips—swollen and red from our kiss—curve into a slow, knowing smile. “What if we waited to eat?”
I let out a groan. “You worked hard today and need to eat. I didn’t mean to distract us. I just couldn’t help kissing you.”
“Maybe I’m starting to like distractions.”
My lips twitch as I take a moment to study her. The way she looks at me right now makes it very hard to stick to my plan of feeding her before anything else happens.
I press a kiss to the tip of her nose before forcing myself to take a small step back. “What a change of character for you.”
“I blame you.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’ll gladly take the blame.”
My hand finds hers, like it’s something we’ve been doing for years. Our fingers intertwine easily. I let my thumb trace over her knuckles. “Come on,” I say as I lightly tug on her to lead her to the kitchen. “Let me at least impress you before I get distracted again.”
Before we get far, I crouch to the ground and pick up her purse. I can’t help but smirk as I hand it over.
“I think you dropped this.”
She rubs her lips together as she uses her free hand to take it from me. “Yeah…” She pauses. “I was preoccupied doing something else.”
We both laugh as we continue on.
For tonight’s meal, I made stuffed caprese chicken with roasted vegetables and a fresh baguette I picked up from the store. The moment you walk into the kitchen, the rich smells of the tomato and basil take over.
“It smells incredible in here,” Josie notes as if she can read my mind.
I smile, soaking up the compliment. I can’t explain why, but I really want her to enjoy my cooking. I want her to enjoy it so much that she wants to come over at least once a day, just so I can spend as much time with her as possible.
“Good,” I say, lifting her hand to my lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. My lips move against her soft skin. “Now, take a seat while I get everything plated and ready for you.”
Josie stares at me through her thick eyelashes. For a few beats, we just stare at one another. Finally, she glances at the ground as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Thank you for this,” she murmurs. She slides onto one of the counter stools, her fingers instantly wrapping around the stem of the glass of wine I already poured for her.
I thought about doing the proper thing and setting up dinner at the new kitchen table Winnie found for me, replacing the one that came with the house.
I love the character the piece brings to the dining area in the corner of the kitchen, but no matter how much I love the table, I wanted to sit as close to Josie as possible this evening. So eating at the counter it is.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I tell her, grabbing two plates from the cabinet.
“The food might be horrible.” I’m hoping it isn’t.
I’ve spent my evening trying to make the best meal possible, but all my effort could still be for nothing.
There’s still a possibility I messed up somehow or that she just doesn’t like it.
After a few moments of Josie not saying anything, I pull my focus from trying to plate her chicken perfectly to look at her.
I find her gaze already on me, her chin resting in her hand.
“Even if the food sucks—which, I know it won’t, because it smells too good to be bad—I still want to say thank you.
It means a lot that you’re going out of your way to cook for me.
” There’s a thoughtful, serious tone to her voice I wasn’t expecting.
Something about the way she says the words makes them seem more meaningful.
I resist the urge to ask her more about why someone cooking for her seems like a big deal, but I don’t want to push her.
I might not be taking things as slowly as I first intended, but I still want to take my time in getting to know her.
I don’t want to pry too much too soon. I’m still learning about her, but I’ve gotten to know her well enough to learn she doesn’t love giving information about herself.
It makes me wonder if she’s ever been with anyone who cared enough to ask.
I hold her gaze for a few more minutes, wishing I could explain to her the pull I feel toward her.
But I don’t know how. I just know I want to do things for her.
I want to be the one she spends time with during her writing breaks.
I don’t want to move too fast, but I want to find ways to fit myself into her life, even though she might be leaving once she finishes writing her book.
I swallow as my gaze drops to the counter for a moment before looking back at her.
“I’d cook all three meals for you every day if I could.
” I try to make my words come out fun and playful, but there’s still a serious undertone to them because they aren’t a joke.
It’s true. If she wanted me to, I’d drop whatever plans I had and cook every meal for her if it meant I got to spend that much time with her. That’s the hold she has on me already.
Josie holds my stare. Her hazel eyes are wide as she drinks me in, and I can’t help but wish she’d say out loud whatever’s running through her head. I want to know if she feels the same pull to spend as much time with me as I do with her.
I don’t know how much time passes as we just stare at each other. It’s long enough that I can’t handle the quiet any longer.
“Let’s eat,” I announce, returning to plating our food before I say something else that might freak her out before we’ve even had the chance to eat.