Page 43 of Running Into You
“Betty, are you…?” He takes a step closer to me. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I’m not upset, I’m overwhelmed because I can’t remember a time when someone cared enough to do something like this for me. Not only has he rearranged his life to help me train for this marathon, but he also went to the trouble to make me this, whether it was to actually document my progress or just to make me smile. I hear his voice in my head, encouraging me, telling me I can do it and I realize that I’ve never had someone believe in me as much as Josh does.
I can’t find the words to say any of this, so I step into his arms and put my mouth on his. His arms encircle me, and he kisses me back with a need that matches my own. My fingers run through his hair as his hands explore my body. Needing to be as close to him as possible, I pull him against me harder and he answers by hooking one of my legs around his hip and lifting me up, his lips never leaving mine. He walks me down the hallway toward my room, stopping halfway there and pushing me up against the wall.
“Do you know how much I want you?” His voice is like gravel as he pins me there. He cups my ass with his hands, squeezing it hard and yet not as hard as I want him to.
“Show me.” I plead, and he moans as he grinds his hips against mine. The friction between our bodies sends electric currents through me, but it’s not enough. I need more of him, all of him. As if reading my mind, he carries me to my bedroom and sits down on the bed, my body still wrapped around his. He unzips my running jacket and peels it off me. I can see he’s pleased that I’m only wearing my sports bra beneath it.
“That’s a new one,” he says admiringly, running his hands over my torso.
“You haven’t seen its best feature yet,” I say, moving myself a few inches away from him, but still on his lap. As he stares at me, I reach up and release the hidden front closure of the bra, freeing my breasts in one swift movement.
“Whatever that is, I am going to buy you one for every day of the week,” he says thickly as takes my breasts in his hands and lifts one to his mouth. His teeth graze my nipple and I cry out against him. He’s taking his time, almost teasing me, and I’m not sure how much more of this sweet torture I can take. Apparently not much because I pull away from him and move my hands to his shirt, pulling it off over his head. I throw it on the floor and then push him onto his back before rolling him over on top of me, reversing our positions. Once he’s positioned over me, I waste no time taking his pants off. I think he likes that I’m taking charge and I know I do.
“That’s my girl.” He growls, climbing back on top of me and pushing away the strands of hair that have fallen on my face. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
I don’t have to think twice. “Get me out of these tights and fuck me until I faint.”
He groans loudly and quickly rips the tights off me, then grabs a condom from my bedside table. I watch him impatiently as he puts it on, my hands fisting at the bedsheet beneath me. My entire body is screaming for him.
He crawls up my body on the bed, raising my arms above my head and pinning them there with one hand. With his other hand under my hips, he thrusts inside me, and I know I’m not going to last long. A few more hard thrusts and I’m panting his name and coming around him, my body quivering and shaking. He releases my hands and slows his rhythm, still moving inside of me as I slowly regain my senses.
“I think you’ve got one more in you, Speedster,” he says in a low voice as he moves in and out of me and my body instantly responds to his words. He slides out of me and gently helps me roll onto my front. From behind me, he positions me so I’m kneeling, facing the head of my bed. I grab the bed frame in front of me for support and he groans his approval. “Good girl. Hold on.” Grabbing my hips, he enters me from behind. My body matches his rhythm, my hips meeting him on every thrust.
“Harder.” I pant and he gives me what I want, slamming into me again and again, my name on his lips over and over. When I arch my back, pushing myself back onto him, his groan sends me into another blinding orgasm and he comes after me, crying out my name and shuddering violently over me.
I collapse on the bed, exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. I’m vaguely aware that Josh leaves me for a moment, probably to throw out the condom. He returns and crawls into bed behind me, gathering me up in one arm and pulling a blanket over us with the other. I’m not sure how long we lay there with his arms around me and his face in my hair.
“I have meals to prep and laundry to do,” I say, turning to face him. God, the afterglow looks great on him.
“How much of that can you do from this bed?” he asks, not opening his eyes.
“Zero percent.” I sigh. Given the choice, I would stay in his arms for the rest of the day. Longer, even.
“Ugh.” He nuzzles closer and opens one eye. “Can I help?” The warm glow inside of me burns a bit brighter at the offer.
“No, I’ve got it down to a science. And don’t you need to get ready for your week?”
“Not really. I got my laundry done yesterday because I wasn’t dying from a hangover.”
“I almost died.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t,” he says cupping my chin in his hand and smiling sleepily at me.
These are the moments with Josh that shake me to my core. When he looks at me like this, I feel cherished, and I don’t know how to respond. I want to lean into it and let it swallow my whole, but there is a part of me that warns me to resist. If I let myself get used to feeling wanted, important, maybe even special, where will I be when this ends? And it will end.
The intimacy becomes too much for me and I break eye contact first, getting out of bed. I throw on a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants, keeping my back to Josh. I can hear him getting dressed behind me, but I don’t turn around.
“Are you sure you don’t need a sous chef?” he asks me when I finally turn around. He’s looking at me tentatively, like he’s sensed a change in me. Before I can answer, Lizzo’s powerful voice is blaring from my phone in the other room.
“Shit. That’s Rilla.” I hiss, as if she could somehow hear me when I haven’t accepted the call yet. I consider letting it go to voicemail, but I did that when she called last week. I hit accept and try to sound normal. “Hey!”
“Hey yourself,” Rilla drawls. “Where have you been hiding? I was starting to worry that the city had swallowed you whole.” Rilla and I normally alternate calling one another every week, but I haven’t been keeping up with my end of the deal. To make matters worse, I haven’t responded to her last couple of texts. It wasn’t a conscious decision that I made. I’d just been with Josh when I’d gotten them and felt weird about responding to her when I was naked and in bed with her brother, and by the time I’d been clothed, I’d forgotten all about it.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I say as I pace around my living room. “Work has been crazy, and the days have been getting away from me. How are you?” I desperately want to talk about anything other than myself.
“Generally dissatisfied with my life, as usual.” She laughs.
