Page 51 of A Moment for Us
He grabs a prybar, flips it before catching it, and walks over to the edge of the floor. The muscles in his arms contract as he leans down, and I feel the heat burning through my cheeks.
Damn he’s hot when he’s looking all manly with tools.
Get a grip, Delia. You are not going to cross that line ever again.
Yeah, I don’t even believe my own lies.
Well, standing here is a bad idea if he’s going to flex and start ripping things up, getting hot and sweaty and . . . nope. Not going there.
“I have to get ready for work,” I say quickly.
“Okay. I’ll be here.”
Here in my house. Fun.
I head off into my bedroom to get ready for the day. Work starts in two hours, and there’s no reason to go back to bed for twenty minutes. I turn my music on, not wanting to hear the sounds of my floor being torn up, and step in the shower. I put the fact that I’m naked while Josh is in my house far from my mind.
It doesn’t matter that I want him. That I always seem to want him. We’re not doing anything sexual again. So, who cares that, as I wash my hair, I imagine it’s his fingers sifting through my blonde locks? Or about the way the pads of my fingers move against my scalp as I picture him in here, naked, touching me.
It’s me who imagines that he is here, watching, directing me as I rub the soap down my body and across my breasts.
With my eyes closed, I can hear his voice, calling my name, the way it’s deep and muffled because his lips are against my neck.
The heat, steam, and increased hormones are making me crazy. I want him so badly. I want to feel him, taste him, let him touch me everywhere.
I hate that I’m this weak when it comes to Josh.
My hand moves lower, and I wish it were his rough fingers touching my clit. I moan, rubbing circles. “Yes, yes,” I say with my hand on the wall. I’m so turned on, and I need to release.
I let out a heavy sigh, listening to bass pumping through my speakers, echoing off the walls.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
I squeal, my hands flying to try to cover up whatever bits I can. “Josh! Turn around!”
He does, his head shaking back and forth. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“No, I’m trying to shower!” I turn the water off and grab the towel as shampoo drips down my cheek. “What are you doing in here?”
“I knocked twice, called your name, and I heard you say yes.”
Oh, kill me. Please. “What do you want?”
Josh faces me, his eyes are full of lust. “You.”
The word is like a bullet to my chest, and each breath is a struggle.
He continues to speak, his voice husky. “You have no idea how much I want you. How watching you like that, touching yourself, wondering if it was me you imagined, makes me ache.”
I don’t have to imagine because I can see his erection. “We shouldn’t . . .”
Shouldn’t say these things.
Shouldn’t feel this way.
Shouldn’t want each other.
But what we should and shouldn’t do doesn’t make it easier to stop.
