18. Josiah #2
For a moment, we stood in my kitchen with smothered chicken cooling on the counter, peach cobbler waiting like a witness, and every boundary I’d set standing firm enough to hold what came next.
She looked at my mouth.
I looked at hers.
“Celeste.”
“Yes?”
“If I kiss you right now, I’m kissing you like I’ve been missing my woman and praying I’d get another chance to do it right.”
Her hand slid up my chest and stopped over my heartbeat. “Then kiss me like that, baby.”
My breath caught.
One word, and she almost put me on my knees.
Baby.
From her mouth, it didn’t sound casual. It sounded like surrender with a pulse; soft, certain, and brave enough to stand in the same room with fear without bowing to it.
My hand moved to the side of her neck.
Her pulse jumped beneath my thumb; mine answered beneath her palm.
When she rose on her toes, there was no retreat in her body, no apology tucked behind her desire, no grief trying to drag her backward by the hem.
Just my Red choosing me with her whole chest, offering me the truth of her want, and trusting me to receive it with discipline instead of greed.
I kissed her before restraint found another scripture to stand behind.
Her mouth opened for me, and every careful thing I’d been holding back stepped closer to the edge.
I kissed her deeper, with one hand at her neck and the other low on her back, anchoring her to me while her body softened and pressed closer.
She didn’t shrink from the evidence of my want.
She breathed into it, held on to it, her fingers digging into my shoulders like she needed me to feel her choosing.
I broke away long enough to look at her.
“Bedroom.”
She nodded.
I took her hand and led her down the hall. The lamp near my dresser cast warm light over the bed. Celeste turned toward me with swollen lips, shining eyes, and her locs slightly tousled from the neat ponytail she’d gathered them in. She looked nervous, but not uncertain. That mattered.
I came to her, slow enough to be clear, close enough to let her know I was done pretending I didn’t ache for her.
“You’re beautiful, Red.” Her eyes lowered. I touched her chin. “Don’t hide from me.” She looked back up. “That’s a boundary too. No hiding behind fear. No punishing me for wounds I didn’t cause. No making me guess whether you need space or mercy. You tell me the truth, and I’ll meet you there.”
Her breath shook. “Okay.”
I kissed her forehead before my mouth found hers.
By the time my lips found hers fully, her fingers were working at the buttons of my shirt with purpose.
I let her undress me while I undressed her, and there wasn’t anything timid about the way she touched me now.
Her palms moved over my chest and shoulders as if reminding herself I was real.
When her blouse fell away, her arms drifted toward her stomach.
I caught her wrists gently and kissed the inside of one palm. “Don’t cover what I’m trying to thank God for.”
Her eyes filled.
“I love all that comes with you. Your body. Your babies. Your grief. Your laugh. Your fear when it tells the truth. Your past. What you understand and what you’re still praying through. I’m not standing here asking for the convenient pieces.”
“Josiah.”
“I got you, baby.”
I laid her back and followed, bracing myself above her.
The first brush of our skin pulled a breath from both of us, and I watched her face as my hand moved along her waist, her hip, the full softness of her thigh.
She arched into my touch, and the trust in that movement did something to me the heat alone couldn’t have done.
I reached into the nightstand, then paused with protection in my hand.
Her eyes met mine. “I’m with you.”
I covered myself and came back to her, settling between her thighs with my forearm beside her head. Her fingers slid along my jaw, then around my neck, and I kissed her while my body found the pace her breath already knew.
When I entered her, I didn’t rush, but I didn’t treat her like glass either. Celeste wasn’t breakable. She deserved honor, which meant I handled her with reverence, attention, and enough confidence for her to stop bracing for pain that wasn’t coming.
Her lashes fluttered, and her lips parted as her hands tightened against my back.
“That’s it, Red.” Her nails grazed my shoulders. “I got you.”
I moved with a steady rhythm, deep enough to make her cling, slow enough to keep her present, and firm enough to remind us both that love could be tender without being timid.
Her body answered mine in waves. Every time she lifted into me, I kissed her.
When her breath caught, I gave her mine.
When her eyes drifted closed, I touched her face until she came back to me.
“Look at me, baby.”
She opened her eyes.
There she was.
No running.
No hiding.
No fear making a home in the doorway.
Just my Red beneath me, brave and trembling, letting herself be loved without apologizing for needing it.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to run.”
“Then don’t.” I slowed, keeping my forehead near hers. “Run to me. Bring me the fear. Bring me the grief. Bring me the ugly thoughts you don’t want to say out loud. But don’t run from me after asking me to love you.”
“Okay.”
“Say it.”
“I won’t run from you.”
I kissed her, and something in her surrendered, not to me, but to the safety between us. Her body arched into mine, and the sound that left her moved through my chest like a hymn sung through mercy instead of music.
I kept one hand at her face.
“Stay with me.”
“I’m here.”
Her release came with my name trembling from her lips. I held her through it, slowing when her body shuddered and speaking over her until the storm inside her softened.
“I got you, Red.”
“You’re safe with me, baby.”
“I’m right here.”
When I followed her, it felt less like losing control and more like laying something down. My face pressed against her neck, her name caught in my throat, and the prayer that left me had no formal language.
For a while, I stayed over her, breathing with her, letting both of us come back slowly. Celeste’s hands slid over my back, gentle and tired, and I kissed her temple before easing away.
“Stay right here, baby.”
Her eyes opened, soft and dazed. “Where you going?”
“To take care of you.”
I kissed her once, then went to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. When I came back, she had pulled the sheet over her chest, her locs loosened around her face, her eyes following me with a softness that made my throat tighten.
I sat beside her and touched her knee. “Open for me, Red.”
Her breath caught, but she did. No hiding. No shrinking.
I cleaned her gently, watching her face more than my hands. When her lashes fluttered, I slowed. When her fingers curled in the sheet, I kissed the inside of her thigh and murmured against her skin.
“I got you, baby.”
A tear slipped toward her hairline, and she wiped at it fast.
I caught her wrist before she could hide behind movement. “Let it fall.”
Her mouth trembled. “I’m not sad.”
“I know.”
“I just feel . . .”
“I know, Red.”
I finished cleaning her, folded the cloth, and set it aside. Then I pulled one of my T-shirts from the drawer and helped her into it, guiding her arms through like tenderness had its own language, and my hands were finally fluent enough to speak it.
By the time I climbed back into bed, her eyes were heavy, but she still reached for me.
That almost took me out.
I gathered her into my chest, tucked the sheet around her, and let my hand move slowly over her back until her breathing evened out. She fit against me like a prayer I’d been whispering before I knew the words.
“Josiah?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I’m still scared.”
I kissed the top of her head. “I know.”
“But I’m here.”
My arm tightened around her. “That’s what I asked for.”
She lifted her face. “We’ll figure it out?”
“With prayer, honesty, boundaries, and no more disappearing acts, yes.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek. “We’ll figure it out.”
Her smile was small, tired, and real.
I looked toward the ceiling with my Red tucked against me, clean, covered, and close enough for my spirit to rest.
“Thank You, Lord,” I whispered.
Celeste tucked herself closer.
My house didn’t feel still anymore. It felt covered.