Chapter 16 #2
“Shh, Chels, it’s okay.” Josiah’s large hands closed over her shoulders, dipping down to her wrists and back up to her shoulders, down and up, down and up, with firm strokes.
“It’s not okay,” she shot back, wriggling out of his hold so she could turn around and bury her face in his chest. She didn't even care that the Kevlar made it hard and uncomfortable, blocked her from absorbing his heat, at least she was in his arms, safe, while that poor woman lay up there suffering.
“It will be,” he reminded her.
“She hates us.” There was no mistaking the venom in the woman’s gaze as they’d stood beside her bed listening to Dr. Gant drone on about the transplant, and what to expect, how it would go, details of the surgery.
“For now. But soon she’ll know the truth.”
“What if they decide to do the surgery on her now?”
“They can't.” Josiah’s hand rubbed circles on her back, but the motion wasn't soothing her. She was too riled up. “We know what Dr. Gant said, both surgeries will happen at the same time tomorrow. A team will remove your damaged kidney and prepare you for the transplant while another team will remove hers. We know that’s not really going to happen, but it’s what he just explained, so while that woman will be uncomfortable and angry for another few hours, no one is going to be operating on her. ”
Hours felt too long.
She wanted this over now.
Maybe they should have activated their trackers this morning when Josiah wanted to. Chelsea had been so focused on getting a visual on Desiree Tilly that she hadn't thought of the suffering of the victims. If they’d set off the trackers hours ago, maybe Prey would have already been there.
Even though she knew they likely would have waited until dark before storming the mansion, it felt like they’d wasted so many precious hours.
Desperate for an outlet for her raging emotions, Chelsea didn't even think, just reached for the zipper on Josiah’s jeans. “Need you inside me,” she pleaded as she unzipped him.
“Chels.” Josiah said her name slowly, and there was clear conflict in his voice, like he wasn't sure this was what she really wanted.
Only it was.
More than that it was what she needed.
“You know you keep promising me hard and fast, but really, if you think about it, what you’ve really been giving me has been pretty sweet.
” Reaching a hand inside his boxers, she grasped his already hardening length and ran her hand along it before palming his tip and circling her hand on his sensitive flesh.
“I want my hard and fast. Here. Now. Take me. I'm yours.”
To emphasize her point, Chelsea pulled her hand free, and leaned down to grab the hem of her ankle-length skirt. Before she could, Josiah growled, and gripped her wrists, holding her still.
“You should be careful talking like that,” he warned, his lips just above the pulse point in her neck, the warm puff of air against her skin making her shiver with need.
A raw, desperate kind of need she’d never felt before.
This was more than attraction, more than love, it was something deep and almost animalistic. Something primitive that she couldn’t even explain. All she knew was that she had to have him inside her right now.
Hands still circling her wrists, Josiah suddenly yanked her off her feet. The motion startled her, and she squeaked at the sudden pain in her shoulders, and quickly wrapped her legs around his hips.
Bunching up her skirt, Josiah dipped his fingers under the soft cotton of her panties, and with no hesitation, he plunged two inside her.
Chelsea cried out at the beautiful intrusion, and the sting as he stretched her, the second of pain quickly morphing into pleasure as he curled his fingers so they brushed across the special spot inside her.
His thumb found her bundle of nerves, pressing against it hard and fast, just like she’d asked for.
Shoving his jeans and boxers down enough that his length could spring free, Chelsea stroked it with greedy fingers. This was hers, and she felt pretty possessive of it.
Another squeak fell from her lips when Josiah suddenly withdrew his fingers, and in one smooth move did something she hadn't even realized was actually possible to do in real life.
He ripped her panties off her body. The skin where the material had pulled against as it tore stung, but the sensation only seemed to add to her growing need.
Guiding him to her entrance, Josiah thrust his hips once and buried himself deep inside her. Filled with him, she moaned as everything around her seemed to click into place. This was where she belonged, and she prayed he felt it too.
“Damn, Chels, how do you feel so …?” Josiah trailed off as he pulled back and then slammed into her again.
Clutching at his shoulders, she rocked her hips forward, enjoying the friction. “So right,” she finished for him.
“Right,” he agreed, somewhat awestruck.
With that declaration, he spun them around so her back was pressed up against the door, shoved her tank top up so he could get to her bra-covered breasts, which he promptly claimed with his hot mouth, grabbed hold of her backside, and began to thrust into her.
Hard and fast, just like she’d asked for.
Each one sent her back ramming into the wooden door, likely hard enough to leave bruises, and she loved it.
Higher and higher she rose. The combination of his lips and tongue teasing first one pebbled nipple and then the other, with his hard and fast thrusts, had pleasure rushing toward her. All she could do was clutch at his shoulders and hold on for the wild ride he was giving her.
When one of his hands shifted to take her bud, tweaking it between his thumb and forefinger, that was it.
She combusted into a fiery ball of pleasure as ecstasy ripped along her veins, consuming her.
Maybe she cried out his name.
Maybe he cried out hers as she felt him come inside her.
It was impossible to know because she was too wrapped up in the orgasm that seemed to go on and on.
As it finally subsided, she leaned forward to bury her face in Josiah’s neck, breathing in his comforting woodsy scent, her body so convinced it was all hers that she didn't even have the energy to remind her brain and her heart that Josiah might have feelings for her, but he’d also put in a lot of effort to fighting against them.
“Thank you for giving me what I needed,” she whispered as tears stung her eyes. Happy tears, grateful tears, maybe a bit of sadness that Josiah might choose to keep fighting his battle instead of surrendering.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight against him, his face burying itself in her hair, and she felt him do what she’d just done to him, breathe in her scent as though committing it to memory. She hoped that wasn't because he didn't think he’d be doing this again.
She prayed it was because he was reminding himself of what would always be his, even if he chose not to let himself be hers.
Their fake marriage was about to come to an end.
With a last deep breath, Josiah grasped her hips again and pulled out of her, setting her back down on her feet. Taking her hand, he guided her into the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth, ran it under warm water, then kneeling before her, cleaned her up.
There was no need for words when he tossed the washcloth into the sink and stood. They both knew it was time.
The look on his face as they both activated their trackers felt far too much like a goodbye for her liking, and her heart filled with an ache she knew would never completely heal.