Page 46 of The Catch

He ran his hands up her sides, and a trail of goosebumps appeared in their wake. His body seemed to want to make a liar out of him, so he forced himself to let her go, pulling up to his knees and straddling her warm thighs.

“You’re right,” she said shakily. They held each other’s gaze, taking a moment to adjust to the decision they had made, then her eyes dropped to his mouth. “Can I still kiss you?”

He swore he could feel all the blood evacuating from his brain. “How about I kiss you?” he said, picking up her hand and bringing it to his mouth. He pressed his lips to the back of it, then turned her arm and kissed the inside of her wrist down to the bend of her elbow.

Her skin still smelled of sunscreen, and a vision of her in that little white bikini on the beach gave him another idea. He moved to the curve of her shoulder, nudging the red strap of her bra aside with his nose, and pulled in a full breath of her. Cat tipped her head back into the mattress while he worked his way to the peaks of her breasts then down to her stomach. Her muscles flexed beneath his lips as he moved around her belly button, his fingers toying with the waistband of her panties.

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispered. His eyes darted to hers for confirmation while his fingers grazed the inside of her thigh, waiting patiently until he had her answer.

He wasn’t sure if it was a yes or a gasp, but she said something, and her knees fell farther apart.

His hand was unsteady as he pulled her panties to the side, hooking the slick fabric over his thumb. Her sweet scent washed over him like a wave, crashing against his chest in a swirl of nerves. The build-up between them had gone from lightning fast to achingly slow, and it certainly left a lot of time to fantasize and wonder and imagine. This was a scene he’d played out in his mind more than once—making her squirm, making her cry out, hooking her on him the way he was so pitifully hooked on her. With goals like that, it was hard not to be nervous.

Cat let out a sharp gasp at the first press of his tongue, her hips lifting against the gentle pressure of his palm. He pulled back, kissing her inner thigh until she settled into the mattress again. “Keep going?” His voice was raspy, breathless, and he wasn’t sure which one of them he was asking.

She whimpered a simple “Please,” and he was convinced enough for both of them.

Seventeen

He was a sorcerer, shedecided. Some sort of mind-melting Cat whisperer. That was the only explanation for the way he’d convinced her to grant him such intimate access to her. He’d barely had to ask. Maybe it was the fact that hedidask, politely at that, like she was doing him a favor. But still, this was the ultimate concession of control, and she’d just handed it over to him after a simple “can I?”

Josh was taking his time—pressing, exploring, devouring—and her nerves were responding to every movement. Her heels dug into the mattress, retreating self-consciously, but Josh increased the pressure of his hand on her hip, coaxing her to feel all of it: his warm breath, his soft lips, his steady tongue.

Jesus, he’d done this before. Of course, he had. He’d been married. He was a grown man. And she was a grown woman. She’d been here before too. Still, the sensation didn’t feel altogether familiar. It had been a while, years, but she was quite sure this was a new thing for her. The difference between experiencing something and experiencing something done well.

She tried again to pull back, embarrassed by the way she was bucking against him greedily. She murmured half-hearted requests for him to let her return the favor, to please not make her fall in front of him. He was greedy, too, though. She could feel his grip digging into her hip, hard enough that she knew there would be gorgeous little fingerprint-shaped marks on her skin. The flag of a conquering country.

“Please,” she said louder. “Josh. I’m going to—”

“I want you to, Catia.”

Her name breathed onto her skin sent a shiver through her limbs. She climbed, higher and higher until the steps began to disintegrate beneath her, and she tumbled in a free fall of sensation. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and her feet scrambled against the sheets. She wanted to push him away and hold him hostage at the same time. He seemingly had no intention of being anywhere else, though, still whispering to her as she crumbled against him.

Finally, all of the tension in her muscles released like the snap of a rubber band, and she relaxed into the mattress, her chest heaving. Josh pulled up so that his face rested on her stomach. He kissed the soft flesh around her belly button, while her body rode out the aftershocks still pulsing through her.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she said, her fingers smoothing down the tufts of his hair that she’d been gripping.

He smiled into one of his kisses, then pressed his teeth against her playfully. “Why?”

“I haven’t even touched you.”

Josh adjusted himself in his boxers. “I’ve been thinking about doing that since that night on the beach.”

“So that’s where that was headed? I have a new hatred for rainstorms… and Dylan.”

Josh’s laughter vibrated against her hip, mixing with the warmth still flowing through her lower half. He pulled to his hands and knees and crawled up the bed, then lowered himself beside her, nuzzling his face into her neck, his arm slung over her belly.

She turned to look at the top of his head. “I’m not tired yet,” she said. “Tell me something.”

“You want a bedtime story?” He chuckled against her ear, his tongue flicking at the lobe as if it hadn’t already put in a full day’s work.

“I do. Something about you that no one knows.”

“Something secret? I’m not that interesting.” He snuggled closer and closed his eyes. Relaxation seeped into his words, making his accent rougher and more pronounced.

“What was it like moving here as a kid?” she asked. “Was it a big change?”

Josh didn’t say anything for a moment, and she was afraid he’d fallen asleep, or worse, she’d brought up something that was still painful. Finally, he let out a warm breath against her neck. “I lived on the Cape as a kid. Cape Cod. Beaches, tourists, fishing boats. The Bay’s not that different. Water’s warmer and the people talk weird—” Cat giggled. “But the atmosphere’s the same.”

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