Take What You Want

by Jeanette Grey

  There beneath the stars, he fell into her, trying to tell her with his body that he knew her. To tell her who he was.

  That he was hers. Not just for a week and a day. But for as long as she would have him.

  And when they cried out their completion to the night, he felt like she had heard. Like she knew.

  The ride back to her apartment was quiet. It left him unsettled, uncertain what to do with how he felt and with the distance still yawning between them, even when they seemed so close.

  He parked and turned the engine off. She was staring out the windshield, as if at something far away.

  It didn’t feel like an invitation, and after she’d asked him to leave the last time, he wasn’t going to presume anything. He wanted to, though. He wanted the closeness from the rooftop to spill over, wanted to have her in his arms all night and to kiss her in the morning.

  With a sigh, he pulled the key from the ignition and got out. He walked her to her door and pressed his lips to her temple, lingering there for just a minute. Just in case.

  As he started to turn away, she grabbed his hand. He faced her, heart pounding in his chest.

  “Come up,” she said quietly. She left no room for mistake. “Stay.”

  Chapter Five

  Wednesday

  The next morning, Ellen woke feeling like a different person—not the shy, responsible bookworm she’d been so desperate to escape and not the brash seductress she’d been pretending at, but something in between. The person Josh knew.

  A warm flush pushed through her at the memory of how she’d told him what she wanted, and of how he’d given it to her. His body, pushing deep inside there on that roof. His comfort, curled around her in her bed.

  She stretched and reached her hand out, seeking out his warmth. With a sinking feeling, she stopped. The sweet, unfamiliar glow of waking with a lover dissipated, leaving only cold sheets and a colder sensation deep inside. She opened her eyes and took in the sight of her room. Empty.

  She sat up and pushed her hair back from her face, bringing her knees up in front of her to rest her forehead against them.

  You couldn’t keep him anyway.

  How she’d wanted to, though. She’d wanted to keep him for the night and for the rest of the week and for…as long as she could. She liked who she was with him. And she liked him. Maybe more than liked.

  With a heaving sigh, she pushed herself out of bed and threw on a robe before wandering out into the living room, thanking God she didn’t have to be at the diner until the dinner rush. There was too much tumbling around in her heart and in her head.

  And in her kitchen. There was tumbling going on in her kitchen.

  She stopped cold at the threshold, blinking repeatedly. In a rush, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Josh looked up from the bowl he was whisking and beamed his brightest smile at her. He looked tousled and bright-eyed, dressed in jeans and the undershirt from last night. He looked happy. Right up until his gaze connected with hers, and his expression faded.

  He put down the bowl and dusted his hands off on his jeans. “Sorry. Should I have…?” His eyes shifted to the door, and he toed the floor with his bare feet.

  Even his feet looked sexy.

  He cleared his throat, bringing her back to herself and drawing her attention to his face, to the mask he was putting on to hide his disappointment.

  “No,” she said, too quickly. “No, of course not.”

  Refusing to be awkward, she closed the distance between them and curled her fingers in his empty belt loops. God, he smelled good. She rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his throat and the corner of his mouth. There, too close for him to see her, she admitted, “I thought you’d left.”

  He chuckled, sounding uncomfortable and yet relieved as he wrapped his arms around her. “I promised you French toast.”

  “That you did.”

  She felt a bright bubble of lightness rising up inside her and touched his face, pulling him down so she could kiss his mouth. The kiss was soft and sweet and spoke of all the joy she had, finding him here, smiling and half-dressed, making her breakfast. Only when she was satisfied did she let go and step back, her smile just as wide as his. She loved to see him smiling like that again.

  “So.” She rubbed her hands together. “What can I do to help?”

  He placed a soft kiss on her lips, his gaze too intense and too tender. “Not a thing.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on opposite ends of her couch, plates balanced on their laps, feet tangled together on the middle cushion. Ellen kept catching sight of the way their legs touched, at the casual positioning of their bodies, and it set off more sparks of warmth inside her chest.

  Smiling, she hummed and licked syrup from her lips. “You do make a mean French toast.”

  “It’s even better with challah, but I made do with what I could find.”

  “Is there, like, a secret ingredient or something?”

  “A good cook never tells his secrets.” He smirked and popped another bite into his mouth, chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “You want more, you’re just going to have to keep inviting me to stay over.”

  She wouldn’t object to that. But as she thought it through, the bread in her mouth lost its flavor and her stomach fell. There was so little time. Hell, she was lucky to be getting as much of his attention as she was this week, considering he was supposed to be home visiting his folks. She didn’t see any way that it could last.

  “Hey.” His foot tapped against hers, and he tilted his head to the side. “Where’d you just go?”

  Had she been that obvious? “Nowhere.” Shrugging, she cut off another bite and dredged it through the syrup. “Just thinking.”

  “About…?”

  She chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds to buy some time. “Just… Your parents.”

  “My parents?”

  “They’re being awfully understanding, you know?”

  “Not really.” The space between his eyebrows was all scrunched up in confusion.

  Unsure how to say what she wanted to, she sat up straighter and drew her feet in to sit cross-legged in front of him. It was both easier and harder to focus without his touch. “I mean, you’ve been spending a lot of time not at home this week.”

  “I know.” He smiled. “Thank you for that, by the way. I thought I was going to be bored stupid.”

  “But your folks don’t mind?”

  “Nah. They’re used to it.” A funny look passed across his face, and his eyes darted to hers and then away. “I mean, except for the whole trying-to-dictate-my-career thing, they get that I’m an adult. I have my own life and all.”

  “That’s nice. They sound pretty cool. You know, except for the whole trying-to-dictate-your-career thing.”

  He laughed and started eating again, seemingly more at ease, but there was still a tension to his posture. “They’re all right.”

  She didn’t know what came over her in that moment. Suddenly, she wanted another piece of him, another reassurance that he was real and hers. She wanted to be the girl who asked for what she wanted.

  Before she could second-guess herself, she blurted out, “Can I meet them?”

  He coughed, slapping his hand over his mouth as his eyes got wide. Sputtering, he reached for his coffee mug and downed a couple of big gulps. “You want to meet my parents?”

  “Sure.” Her stomach twisted at his disbelief. “Is that so weird?”

  “It’s a little weird.”

  “Oh.”

  Right. She’d only known him a few days. The version of herself she’d presented wasn’t exactly girlfriend material. And he’d be leaving soon.

  An awkward silence fell over them as she scraped at a patch of syrup with the side of her fork.

  Finally, he sighed. “You really want to meet my parents.”

  “If you don’t want me to, it’s—”

  His hand was under her chin, and he was suddenly close, so clo
se, those clear green eyes staring right at her. “Do you?”

  She took a deep, shaky breath and squared her jaw. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

  He studied her, gaze darting between her eyes, and then his expression softened. “Okay, sweet girl.” He leaned in and kissed her nose before settling back again on his side of the couch.

  “Really?”

  With a forced nonchalance, he said, “Sure. Why not?” The set of his shoulders spoke of a hundred reasons why not, but she chose not to read too much into them. “Come over for dinner. Tomorrow night. Or are you working, or—”

  “Tomorrow night sounds perfect.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “Okay.”

  He gazed right at her, his grin wide. And she couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop smiling.

  The next thing she knew, he was setting his plate down on her coffee table and grabbing hers from her hand, his body hovering over her. His kiss was hungry and warm, his mouth sweet with syrup. As startled as she was, she opened to him and tangled her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, sucked on his tongue as he pressed it inside. He sank a heavy arm into the cushion behind her and rose enough to look at her.

  “This week, Ellen. It’s been such a surprise. Such a wonderful surprise.”

  She slid her hand down to rest on his chest. “Yeah, it has.”

  Humming, he captured her mouth again, sinking lower with every sweep of lips and tongue until his heat soaked into her. He shifted to bring his knees up underneath him, denim rough against her bare shin. She unfolded her legs and opened them for him, and he moved his hand to the dip of her waist. Everything was hot, her body responding to him, desire unfurling, and then—

  She squealed as something cool and sticky hit her chest where her robe was gapping. Laughing and pushing at Josh’s chest, she pulled her lips away to try to look, only to watch as another thin drip of syrup overflowed the rim of the plate he was still holding in the air above them.

  “Josh!” She reached the plate to try to right it but just succeeded in knocking it even more askew, sending more syrup flying.

  “Shit.” He rose up onto his knees and grabbed the plate with his other hand to place it on the floor beside them. “I’m sorry.” Sucking his thumb into his mouth, he dropped his gaze to her chest, his eyes darkening. “You’ve got a little…”

  Ellen rolled her eyes, laughing as she tried to scoop up a little puddle of syrup that had pooled in the hollow of her collarbone. It just ended up spreading the stickiness around.

  “You’re all messy.” His voice rumbled with a low growl, and the intensity of his gaze had gone to molten heat.

  Her breath caught in her throat. “And whose fault is that?”

  “If I said it was yours for being so sexy, would you hurt me?”

  “Would you like me to?”

  “Fuck.”

  His mouth attached itself to her neck, hot tongue lapping, and his hardness pressed against her thigh. Still holding the sticky one in the air, she pushed her clean hand into his hair and spread her legs. Sucking lower on her chest, pushing the edges of her robe apart, he groaned.

  Already panting for breath, the ache building between her thighs, she tilted her head back. “You were the one holding the plate, you know.”

  “Is that a complaint?”

  “No,” she said with a gasp of pleasure as he latched on to the top of her breast, her eyes drifting closed. “Statement of fact.”

  “I bet you want me to admit this is my fault then.”

  “I wouldn’t stop you.”

  There were so many things she wouldn’t stop him from doing right then.

  Suddenly, his lips disappeared from her skin, and he sat up straight. She opened her eyes, shocked to find her hand grasping at air, to see him staring down at her with mischief in his smile.

  “Guess it’s my job to get you cleaned up then, huh?”

  Before she could even protest, he was picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder as he stood.

  All the breath flew out of her as she screamed, a laughing, gasping sound full of thrill and surprise. “What do you think you’re—”

  He slapped her ass sharply, then slid his hand under the hem of her robe to grasp the naked back of her thigh, his forearm pinning her legs against his chest. With big, striding steps, he carried her through the apartment. Hanging upside down, she darted her gaze from the coffee table to the wall to the open doorway now looming before them.

  Still laughing and squealing the whole time, she scrabbled at his shirt and beat her fist into his side. “Stop it! Put me down!”

  “Just a second.” He strode into the bathroom, then with a grunt, shoved the shower curtain out of the way, setting her down on her feet in the bathtub.

  “Son of a—” A blast of icy water hit her in the face, and her words dissolved into another scream. Her robe soaked through, and she reached for the knob to turn the water off, only to meet Josh’s hand, his big palm wrapping around her wrist and his hot mouth on hers. The chill of the water faded, giving way to a warm spray, and all her resistance melted. When she pulled her hand away from his grip, he let it go, and she clung to his shoulders, kissing him hard and deep. “Get in here.”

  “Hold on, baby.” He wrestled with his jeans, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom floor, along with his boxers. Separating from her mouth for the briefest second, he pulled his A-shirt up and over his head, then flung it behind him as he stepped into the tub and drew the curtain closed behind him. “Fuck, but you look good.”

  The fabric of her robe clung to her naked skin. He peeled it from her an inch at a time, fingers caressing curves, and in no time at all, it lay at their feet, leaving them skin to skin, his erection trapped between their bodies and her sex achy and slick. She slid her hand down his side and across his back, reaching to palm the firm roundness of his ass before slipping across his hip to curl her fingers around him. He groaned into her mouth and teased her nipple between his finger and his thumb.

  As she stroked him, he kissed his way down her throat to the sticky skin across her collarbones and slicked a fingertip through the lips of her sex. “I thought I was supposed to be cleaning you up.”

  A heavy surge of desire rushed through her. She hadn’t been a virgin before she’d taken Josh home, but sex had never been this good before—this giving or this fun. She’d never gone from squealing to steaming, never been so wanting or so eager to please.

  She wanted to thank him. To tell him what this meant to her; even if she only got to keep him for this week, he’d changed everything.

  Everything.

  She moaned into his touch and moved her hand around to cup his balls, gazing down to hide her face from him. It would say entirely too much.

  “One thing at a time,” she said.

  With that, she dropped to her knees, cushioned from the floor by the wet mass of her robe. She sucked in a deep breath. He was long and thick, hard and perfect in front of her. Still not looking up, heart racing, she traced a single finger up and down the length of him, watched as he bobbed, flexing at her touch.

  “Yeah,” he groaned as she leaned in and slid her mouth around the head. He cupped the side of her face, a gentle touch of fingertips against her scalp. He didn’t push her or try to guide her onto him, just held on. It felt possessive. Sexy.

  Curling her fingers around the base, she took him in, a slow slide of lips over hard flesh and low noises of pleasure—a soft “baby” and “God” spilling from his lips as she sucked him deep.

  When she slid even farther down on him, he shook. “Fuck, that’s good. I love your mouth.” He flexed his hips, a gentle push in time with her own motions as he hit her throat, sliding back before she could gag.

  She wanted to make him feel good. Better than anyone. She wanted…

  “Baby…” His fingers touched the edge of her jaw, nudging her up. “Look at me.”

  She sucked harder and felt his legs tremor.

  More insis
tently, he tugged. “Look at me.”

  She forced her eyes up, still scared of what she’d show him. But in that instant, his gaze held the same fire she felt burning inside of her. The same need and connection.

  His next grunt was agonized.

  “Babe, I’m gonna—” He let go of her, pulled his hands from her hair and slammed one fist into the wall of the shower, but she didn’t let go. “Ellen…”

  With a shuddering pulse, his release filled her mouth, hot and bitter, and she swallowed it down, still moving on him, only easing off on her pressure when he touched her shoulder and pulled his hips away.

  His gaze still burning, he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her up, slamming his mouth against hers the second she was standing. “You are…” he mumbled between kisses, “the sexiest…most dangerous woman…”

  “Yeah?”

  “God, yes.”

  Her back hit the wall of the shower, and then he was on his knees, hands holding her hips to the tile and lips sucking at her inner thigh. Eyes on hers the entire time, he picked up her right leg and hung it over his shoulder, spreading her.

  “Hold on to me,” he urged, and then his face was buried between her legs.

  She cried his name and reached out, one hand connecting with the shelf beside her and the other with hot skin. Just like he had, she held his head, touched his neck. With lips and fingertips and tongue, he opened her, sucking and licking at her clit while pressing just inside. Her whole upper body strained as she clenched her jaw shut against the onslaught of pleasure.

  He pulled away to kiss her thigh. “Let me hear you. Tell me what I do to you.”

  “Jesus.” Her mouth hung open and her eyes drifted skyward before slamming shut as he pressed his fingers deeper and brought his tongue back to her flesh. “I’ve never—”

  Felt anything like this. Been this close before.

  She snapped her mouth closed, trembled as she gave in to it. In a matter of minutes, Josh had her on a precipice, wet and open and soaring, pushing until there was only his mouth and his hand.

  “Say my name, Ellen. Say my name when I make you come.”