36. Josie
THIRTY-SIX
JOSIE
I let my hand slide lower as I look at Tyson with a smile on my lips. “Does that mean it’s my turn to show you more?” I ask, my fingers drifting to the waistband of his pants.
Tyson sucks in a breath, but his fingers wrap around my wrist to stop me before I can go any further. “As much as I want that, I think the more should stop for tonight.”
My body freezes at his words as I instantly try to figure out if I did something wrong.
As if he can read my mind, his eyes go wide.
“I want more. Fuck, I want more, Josie. I want it all with you, but I don’t want to take things too fast. We’ll have plenty of time for everything, and you should have the inspiration you need for now.
” He rubs his lips together in an attempt to hide a smile before he winks at me.
“But I do have a request for you that you can absolutely say no to.”
I try to get rid of the pit in my stomach at his denial of taking things further, instead choosing to believe his words that the only reason he’s stopping things is because he wants to take it slow. I keep my thoughts to myself, but still wish he weren’t so insistent about taking our time.
“What’s your request?” I ask, my voice quiet.
He lets out a long exhale before dragging a hand through his hair. He wears a smile that does something to my chest because of the vulnerability and softness in the way he looks at me. “Stay,” he rasps. He lets the word linger between us, simple and direct.
“What?” I ask, even though I swear I heard him perfectly.
His gaze travels over me as the corners of his mouth lift even higher. “Stay the night.”
My heart leaps in my chest as I immediately try to read into his request—into him and what he means by asking.
He cups both sides of my face, tilting my head to look at him. “I meant what I said earlier,” he says. “I don’t want to rush this. Not with you. But I don’t want the night to end either.”
It feels like my heart expands at the vulnerability of his words. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before, but one I swear I’ve written about.
“I just…” He pauses as his blue eyes search my face. His jaw flexes slightly, as if he’s not used to having to explain himself like this. “I love being around you, Josie. I want to keep doing that tonight without rushing the other stuff between us.”
The honesty in his words—the way they get quieter the more he speaks—does something to me.
His words aren’t the smoothest or practiced, but they’re real, and that’s what matters the most.
For a moment, all I can do is look at him.
Because I don’t think anyone’s ever wanted to spend the night with me without it meaning something else. Without there being an expectation of sex attached.
And I don’t know how I feel about him wanting to spend time with me, knowing nothing else will happen tonight.
I don’t know how to feel about a man wanting to spend time with me just for me because it’s something I haven’t really experienced before.
“You just want to—” My words stall as I try to figure out what he’s requesting “—hang out tonight? Sleep together without the sex?”
His mouth twitches as he gives me one curt nod. “I know. Wild concept, isn’t it?”
I can’t help but laugh and shake my head at him. “You’re asking me to stay the night, with no sex involved. That doesn’t exactly scream casual,” I point out.
“You’re right. But I don’t think I can do casual. Not with you.”
My mouth snaps shut because his words are both a relief and absolutely terrifying. It should be casual. We only met a week ago. And yet…I feel the same way.
His gaze holds mine, his blue eyes steady and unwavering. “Stay. Please.”
The way he says the words—quiet and confident—makes it really hard to overthink this the way that I want to.
God, do I want to overthink this. Because this moment feels like something. Something important. Something that could very easily lead to him mattering more than I’m ready for.
For a moment, I think about leaving. About going back to my place. I came over here for him to help with inspiration, and he definitely did that. I wanted to know what it felt like to feel more with someone, and I did with him.
I could go back home and sit alone with everything I’m feeling right now. I could even use the memory of the orgasm he gave me—and the way he made me feel—and write some more tonight.
But it doesn’t feel right.
Not when I could stay here—with him.
“Okay,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.
Something shifts in his expression as his shoulders sag slightly. Maybe it’s relief.
“Okay?” he repeats, dragging the word out.
I nod as a smile tugs at my lips. “Okay,” I respond, more confident this time.
He returns my smile as his hands slide down my waist. “Then come on.”
The bathroom light is even softer than in the kitchen. I don’t know what it is about being in here with him, but it feels quieter in here. More private.
Tyson’s grip on my hand is tight as he leads me to the large vanity. My pulse thumps erratically as I can’t help but wonder why he led me straight in here instead of into his room.
Before I can ask him what he’s doing, both his hands find my hips as he lifts me onto the white marble of his bathroom counter.
“What’s up with you putting me on counters this evening?” I ask, my voice quiet but teasing.
“Maybe I have a thing for you and countertops.” Tyson smiles as he opens a cabinet and pulls out a washcloth. I watch him closely as he runs it under the water before wringing it out.
I catch on to what he’s doing, and my cheeks heat at the realization. He turns back to me, the washcloth still in his hand as he hesitates for a moment. “Can I help clean you up?” he asks, the question still taking me off guard.
I don’t even know if it’s what he’s asking that takes me by surprise or if it’s the fact that he’s asking at all.
I give him a timid nod. “Yes,” I breathe, my heart doing funny things at the simple gesture.
His hand is steady as he steps between my thighs once again. I don’t know what seems more intimate—his mouth on me making me come, or him cleaning me up after—but I know both have me feeling things for him that are new and completely foreign.
One hand braces lightly at my hip, while the other gently brushes the damp cloth between my thighs. He’s light with washing me, completely unhurried, taking his time.
I watch him closely as he does it, wondering why I don’t feel as embarrassed as I expected to. I’ve never had someone help clean me up. No one’s even offered. Yet here Tyson is, taking his time and acting like what he’s doing isn’t a big deal, even when it feels like one to me.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, my words kind of useless because he’s already started.
“I know,” he responds, not looking up. “I want to.”
I want to.
I swallow as my fingers brush lightly against his wrist for a moment before I pull them back. I don’t know why I just did that. I think I’m just unsure of what to do about the feeling building in my chest.
He finishes cleaning me up before tossing the washcloth into a laundry bin in the corner of his bathroom. With him no longer standing between my thighs, I close them, my gaze staying pinned on him.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
He smirks as he closes the distance between us. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he offers. His fingers dance along my hairline as he pushes stray pieces from my face. “I’m the one who made you messy to begin with anyway.”
My cheeks heat at his words. “Well, I’m still saying thank you.” I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in to kiss him.
I can’t help it.
He’s too damn sweet and considerate, and I don’t know how to process the way he makes me feel, but I push that away for now. For tonight, I’m going to enjoy being wrapped up in this bubble with him, not worried about what might happen somewhere down the road if this blows up in both of our faces.