JOSIE
FORTY-FOUR
I’m breathless.
Spent.
My body completely tangled with Tyson’s.
For a moment, neither of us moves, besides the rapid fall of our chests, thanks to our heavy breathing.
I stay there on top of him, straddling him with my hands braced lightly against his chest as I try to catch my breath.
Tyson’s hands landed on my hips at some point. They stay there now, his grip firm as he also works on trying to breathe normally.
His gaze finds mine before he leans in to place one chaste kiss against my lips. It’s so soft and tender that it goes straight to my heart, making it squeeze inside my chest as my body still hums from the pleasure.
Tyson slides out of me, but he keeps us in the same position, as if he doesn’t want to let me go. I don’t move either, wanting to soak in the moment with him.
My fingers shift slightly against his chest as I begin to trace over his skin without even thinking about it.
I just need the contact. I need the connection with him as everything inside me feels…
different after what just happened. The intensity of the orgasms—the way he made me feel during—was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
Tyson lets out a long exhale, his chest rising under my palms. I can feel his racing heart below my fingertips. I can feel every breath he takes, every erratic beat of his heart.
His fingers move up my spine and cup the back of my neck as his lips twitch with the hint of a blooming smile. “How was that for inspiration?” he asks, his tone cocky. The way he asks, combined with a smirk, tells me he’s already confident in my answer.
I smile, my gaze dropping to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again. “Perfect,” I tell him, my voice quiet but sure.
His gaze travels over my face like he’s making sure I mean it.
Like it’s important to him.
And that gives me that same funny feeling in my chest again. The one that only Tyson’s ever made me feel.
I shift slightly in his lap, not pulling away, just getting more comfortable. I slide my hands from his chest and up to his shoulders before cupping his cheeks in my hands.
“Thank you,” I mutter, my thumbs swiping over his cheekbones.
He gives me a hesitant smile as he leans into my touch. There’s something so vulnerable about the way he looks at me right now—like he’s let down every single one of his walls for me. “For what?”
“Everything,” I immediately respond. “For that, for being you. Just…for everything.”
He presses his lips to mine softly, and there’s something about this kiss that blows all the other ones out of the water.
It’s the tenderness of it in the aftermath of what happened between us.
He doesn’t rush it or forgo kissing me at all.
He presses his mouth against mine like even after everything we just did, he still can’t get enough of me.
And that pulls at my heart—makes me feel things I’m terrified of feeling.
“Anything for you,” Tyson mutters as he pulls away just enough to get the words out before he kisses me again.
The kiss is slow. Intentional.
He continues to take his time, all while sliding us off the bed, carrying me to his bathroom, and turning on the shower. Even as we step into the hot stream, his mouth is on mine, like he needs the air from my lips instead of his.
I don’t know how long the kiss continues in the shower before he eventually pulls away.
“Can I help get you cleaned up?” he asks, his voice hoarse. Something about the raspiness makes me blush, remembering how much he spoke to me while inside me. He didn’t hold back, letting me know how good it felt for him, and even though he just gave me two orgasms, my body heats at the memory.
I nod, my heart doing that squeezing thing again. I’m just not used to this side of sex—the aftercare. It almost feels more intimate than the sex itself.
Tyson gently grabs me by the elbow and pulls me underneath the warm water.
“Is the temperature okay?” he asks, and I nod.
It feels perfect. The hot water hits my skin, easing the lingering tension in my muscles.
I watch closely as he lifts a bottle of soap from the shelf in the shower. His eyes stay trained on me as he squirts the liquid into his palm before setting the bottle back down. He rubs his hands together, creating a soapy lather as I stand underneath the water, my gaze pinned on him.
Tyson takes a step closer to me, our bodies almost touching as he begins to lather the soap against my skin.
He takes his time, running it over my shoulders, my arms, over my stomach.
His movements are unhurried as he grabs a washcloth from the corner of the shower.
He holds it underneath the stream before bringing it back to me, running it over where his hands just were.
His blue eyes flick to mine for a moment—almost like he’s checking in—before he continues to gently wash me.
Down my abdomen, until he moves it between my thighs.
He takes his time fully cleaning my body. Every now and then, he leans in to kiss me. Just when I think he might be done, he reaches for a bottle of shampoo and works it into my hair.
My eyelids flutter shut as he massages the shampoo into my strands. His fingertips are firm against my scalp. It feels so good that I let out a small moan.
He takes his time rinsing the shampoo from my hair before pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “I don’t have any conditioner,” he admits, trailing his lips against my skin. “But I’ll make sure to get some here for next time.”
I smile as he wraps his arms around my middle and pulls me to him. My back is to his front. I don’t miss how, despite the orgasm he had minutes ago, he’s hard all over again. “Next time?”
He moves my hair from my neck and kisses the spot below my ear. “Yes, next time. It’s past me just wanting to give you inspiration. I’ll never get enough of you, Josie. We can do this at your place or mine, just as long as whatever this is”—he nips at my ear softly—“doesn’t stop.”
His words settle over me, feeling both heavy and light at the same time. Both scary and a relief.
For a moment, I don’t respond. I can’t. I’m still mulling over his words, wondering how so much has seemed to change in such little time.
I stand there in his arms as I try to gather my thoughts.
I love that he gives me time to do so. He doesn't rush me at all. I lean into him with the water cascading over us and his chest pressed firmly to my back, wanting him to know that even if I can’t find the right words, I’m feeling the same as he is.
Because it’s true.
I’ve felt it.
That shift.
The one that’s gone from enjoying spending time with him and wanting to have fun with him for writing purposes to something that feels like more.
I put my hands over his as a way to have as much connection with him as possible.
“Tyson,” I start, my voice coming out more hoarse than I was expecting it to be.
He stills. He doesn’t pull away or let go, but he freezes as he waits for me to keep going. It’s new, to have someone listen to me like this. It’s new to have someone be up-front about their feelings and what they want. I’m used to guessing, but with Tyson, he doesn’t leave me guessing at all.
While he waits for me to answer, he trails his lips along my neck. I tilt my head slightly, giving him better access without even realizing I’m doing it.
“Feeling this way, especially this soon, is new to me,” I admit softly.
“I know,” he mutters against my skin. “It’s new for me too.”
He shifts just enough so I can turn in his arms. The water now hits my back as I look up at him. Even in the new position, his hands don’t leave me. They settle on my waist, his touch solid and sure, something that makes me feel at peace.
“We don’t have to label anything,” he continues, his voice low and calm in a way that immediately eases something inside me. “Let’s just be here, feeling it all, not fighting it, together. We can just…be.”
Just be.
I don’t think either of us are people who are used to that. It seems impossible to do, to not overthink this, but now that he’s standing in front of me, looking at me like he’s never been so confident of something in his life, it doesn’t feel impossible at all.
My gaze drifts over his face, wanting to commit every single detail to memory. There’s a softness and tenderness in the way he looks at me that goes right through me—straight to my heart.
He cups my face, his thumbs dancing along my cheekbones, sending shivers down my spine.
It isn’t just his touch that does things to me.
It’s everything.
It’s just him.
The way he pays attention.
The way he takes care of me.
The way things are easy—making me not want to overthink things for once in my life.
My chest tightens, that same pressure building again, but this time, there’s not a single part of me that wants to push it away.
I let myself feel it.
I want shampoo and conditioner at his house.
I want him in my space.
I don’t want to run from this or try to cut it off before he has the power to hurt me.
I want to finish this book with him at my side and then figure out what happens after that.
I want a lot of things when it comes to Tyson Bishop.
And it finally hits me—I have feelings for him.
Not just attraction and not just chemistry.
They’re deeper than that—far deeper.
Maybe if it were anyone else, the realization would scare me. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. If it wasn’t him, I’d pull away and protect myself.
But because it’s him, I step closer.
I slide my hand up his chest and rest it over his heart as I meet his gaze. This entire time, he’s given me the time to process my thoughts, to sit with them, before saying anything else. I appreciate his patience beyond words.
“I don’t want to stop this either,” I tell him, hoping my words come out as confident as they feel. Things are still so new, and I have no idea what will happen, but I know I have feelings for him unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
And I don’t want to run from them. I don’t want to run from him.
He smiles at my words, his shoulders dropping slightly as he lets out a long breath of relief. His thumb lightly brushes my cheekbone as his gaze rakes over me. “I’ve never been so relieved in my life to hear you say that,” he gets out before leaning in to kiss me again.
We stay under the stream as we both accept that whatever’s happening between us, it isn’t just a fleeting feeling. It feels like something that’s going to stay and develop into something more.
Maybe neither one of us knows what that means yet. Maybe we don’t know where it’s going. But for once, I don’t feel the need to figure it out. All I want to do is get lost in it, thinking that maybe, in the process, I’ll be found.
I just want to feel it—with him.