19. Chapter Nineteen

Fuck, I can't breathe.

He's standing there, watching me with those fucking gorgeous blue eyes, deep and full of something I can't even explain. And his words are finally sort of registering.

They're not together anymore. They're... not together anymore. When the fuck did that happen?

"Wh-what? Y-you—you broke up with Brenna?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

I mean, that's the question, right? She sounded perfect. Like his best friend. Like his best friend... and maybe nothing more than that.

Oh, holy shit.

He takes a step closer to me, and I can almost feel the heat from his body now. He's so close. He frowns a little as he says, "It wasn't fair to lie to her anymore."

"To lie to her? Shit, Josh, what—what are you saying?"

I back up a step, and he stops, but his eyes don't leave mine.

"Coop, I—"

"Don't fucking say it, Josh." Fuck, I'm not even sure what I mean. What the fuck don't I want him to say?

For whatever reason, he doesn't seem as confused as I am. He's had time to think about this. Or something. Fuck if I know. But he shakes his head almost gently. Then he takes one more step closer, and—fuck. There's this tug in my chest, and it's the same one I've been fighting all afternoon, but it's close to overpowering me now.

He has to fucking know how I feel by now. He has to.

I turn away from him because I need some space. Because I can't fucking breathe again.

"I'm sorry, Coop."

I'm not entirely sure what he's sorry for. And that's not even what I meant. Was it? Fuck, I don't know.

He touches me then, his hand rubbing lightly up my back, and something immediately ignites. And it's hot and burning. And—fuck.

I turn around, and he's right there, gazing up at me with all this fucking emotion in his eyes. His hand somehow finds its way to my chest, and I just know he must be able to feel my heart pounding now, because it's almost painful.

I back up another step, but my eyes don't leave his.

"That kiss, man," he says, and I can't stop myself from looking at his lips.

I want to kiss him now. More than anything, I want it. I drag my eyes up to his again, and it's almost like he's pleading with me. I shake my head, though I'm not sure why.

"Wh-what about the kiss?" And then it's there—a pain in my chest, sharp and angry. I turn away again, and my hands drop down to my sides. "You fucking kissed me, Josh, and it was—it was fucking incredible. God, I've never... And—and then the next day, you fucking just ignored me, man. Fucking ditched me. Like we didn't even know each other. We were best friends, and you fucking ditched me. And now you want to bring up that kiss, like it suddenly fucking meant something to you?"

That's a lot of words I hadn't meant to say. A lot of words that hurt.

He's quiet, and I feel the need to backtrack. Take the words I'd said and bottle them back up. Because I think we'd been pretty close to finding some sort of friendship again. Maybe. Or something like that.

And now there's a thick tension in the air that I can't even pretend not to feel.

I shake my head and move the few steps to the counter, so I can brace myself for what will inevitably end with him leaving me. Again. And fuck, I really don't want that. Me and my big fucking mouth. "I'm sorry, Josh. I shouldn't have said all of that. I—"

His hands are on my back again. Both of them this time. God. I'm shivering and burning at the same time as he rubs all the way up to my shoulders and then back down.

"Coop." He says my name softly, and there's a clear regret in his voice.

But dammit, I don't want to hear it. Do I?

Fuck. Yes, I fucking do. I fucking want that apology. The whole thing this time.

I close my eyes and drop my chin down to my chest as my whole body shudders with some deep want or need or something. God, his touch—it feels so good.

"I don't deserve a second chance, so I won't ask you for one," he says quietly. "But I need to say that I'm sorry. I fucked up. It was the worst decision I've ever made—to treat you how I did after... after what was the best thing I've ever experienced in my life. I fucked up big time. And it cost me the best friendship I've ever had. And I'm so deeply sorry for how much I hurt you. I wish I could take away all that pain. Because I... Because you don't deserve that. I'm sorry, Coop."

His hands drop away from my back, and there's this pulse in me that screams with want for his touch. God, I need it. My body craves it. And yet, I can't make myself move. Instead, some strangled sound escapes me. I think it's an attempt at his name, but I'm really not sure. All I know is that the very next second, he's back and next to me. And as soon as I turn toward him, his arms wrap around me, and he pulls me up against him.

And god, it feels like coming home.

It feels like being surrounded by the most comfortable, comforting warmth. And it somehow feels safe in a way I haven't known for a very, very long time. Because honestly, I can't even remember the last time someone hugged me.

I might be shaking. Fuck, he might be shaking, too. And he's murmuring something in my ear, although I can't really make out the words. I can feel their warmth, though, and their intention. The same as his hand gently caressing my back.

"God, Josh, what the fuck, man? Why the fuck did it take you so long?" I mumble the words into his shoulder. I don't expect any answers. They're both rhetorical questions.

And he doesn't really answer anyway, but his words become clearer as he pulls back just a little and says, "I'm so, so sorry, Coop. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry." Then his arms tighten around me, and he leans his head against mine. "I'm so sorry."

It's several minutes until either of us moves again, and then it's him—because I still can't seem to get my fucking feet to listen to my brain. He straightens up, and he's looking at me with so much uncertainty in his eyes. He brings one hand up, and his fingers brush along my jaw before coming to settle on my neck.

It's overwhelming again—a sensation like fire ripping through me. But it's not painful. It's fucking brilliant and hot and makes my heart leap.

There's a lump in my throat, but I swallow it back and close my eyes. And because I don't want to stop myself from saying it this time, I give myself permission.

"I want to kiss you so fucking badly right now," I say, and when I open my eyes again and see him looking at me with this expression that's just hopeful as hell, my heart does that thing again, leaping around wildly in my chest. But it still hurts, a lot. And I'm not sure.

He seems to know there's a "but" coming, and he gives me this small nod, like he understands. Fuck. I screw my eyes shut and let myself lean forward until my forehead is touching his.

"I want to. I just don't know if I'm ready yet."

"Of course. That's—of course," he says quietly.

I feel his breath, hot and so close, and I know his lips are right there, less than an inch from mine. And fuck, I want it. I remember the taste. The heat. The dizzying overwhelm.

But I'm really not ready. I know, because I suddenly can't fucking breathe again.

"Josh... I..." My voice sounds strangled and raspy, and I shake my head just a little, not really sure what I'd wanted to say. There's so much that needs to be said. But right now, all I can do is just cling to what's right here, and hope he won't let me go.

God, please, don't let me go.

His fingers play at the back of my neck but don't leave, as though he knows or feels the same or understands. Shit, maybe all three. His other hand continues to rub in long, slow strokes along my lower back.

It's a lot, though. No one's ever touched me like this. This hug, his hands. And his hips pressed into mine, his chest flush against me. Fucking god, I'm feeling warm. I need a little space, I think. But my body doesn't want it; it still won't let me move.

He's gonna have to go soon, though. What the fuck am I gonna do then? There's an immediate reaction to the thought—a sinking feeling in my stomach—and I nearly gasp for breath as the knot low in my gut tightens.

He can't leave. I can't let him leave. Not again. Not... again.

And it's as though he's reading my mind. His hand on my neck slips forward a bit to cup my cheek, and he says, "God, Coop, I don't—I don't want to go."

Shit. With a groan, I lean into the touch, and his thumb brushes along my skin. Why? Why does this feel so good? How can this feel so right?

And what the fuck am I gonna do?

"Josh, I . . ."

I finally convince my body to move, and both of his hands find their way to my chest as I pull back just enough to see his eyes. There's hope in them again. Hope and so much more than that. I shake my head, but even as I do, my hand drifts around to his chest and then up to cup his cheek, as he had mine a moment ago. God, his skin is smooth and warm, and my hand seems to fit right there. Perfectly. Like that's where it was made to be.

There's some deep ache in my chest then. I don't know why. Josh must be feeling it too, though, because he closes his eyes with a shuddering sigh. Then he brings his other hand up, his fingers caressing gently along my forearm until his hand covers mine.

"I can stay," he says, his voice as soft as his touch. "I can stay if you want. I don't have to go, Coop."

That deep ache becomes stronger when he presses his hand into mine a little and then turns his head to brush his lips against my palm.

"I don't have to leave," he repeats. "I don't... want to leave."

Fuck, I need space. And a cold shower. And at the same time, I need neither one of those things because all I really need is standing right in front of me, and I don't want him to go.

"Please, please stay," I say. "I-I mean . . ."

And it's all too much again. I can't think with him touching me, and I should be—fuck, I should be thinking. We should be talking. I think.

I don't even fucking know. I've never done this before.

I pull away. Actually this time. I back up a step, trying hard to ignore that same fucking knot that tightens more in my stomach as his touch disappears from my chest and my cheek and my hand and wherever else he'd been pressed against me. And I shove my hands into my pockets so I'm not tempted to touch him again.

Then I look down at the floor so I can't see and feel whatever's in his expression. What I'm about to say fucking hurts me to even just acknowledge, and I'm not sure I could handle watching him react.

"I mean, I think... I think you should go, actually," I say. There's a rattle in my throat, though, and that deep ache in my chest again.

He lets out a long breath. "Um, okay. Yeah, if that's what you want."

"It's not," I say quickly, and I force myself to look up at him, but he's staring at the floor now, his lips pursed in a frown. "It's not what I want. But..."

My breath catches in my throat as he lifts his eyes to meet mine. God, he's fucking gorgeous. But it's more than that too. There's something in his eyes, his expression, the soft nod he gives me that just tells me he understands. He understands, and he accepts it. And... fuck, I'm wavering, and I don't know what to do. I look away again.

"It's not what I want," I repeat, "but it's what I need. For—for now. Just for now, I mean. Fuck, I don't know. I don't even know what this all is. I don't fucking know, Josh. Fuck, I-I'm sorry."

It feels wrong—asking him to leave when we've just, I dunno, started to maybe get somewhere. Maybe he should stay. Maybe we should talk.

"It's okay," he says, and his voice is soft again. Soft and understanding.

"I just—I need to figure out—" What? What the fuck do I need to figure out that I can't do with him here?

He steps back up to me, and he reaches out slowly and takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. Heat rushes through me, and I can't breathe again as I close my hand around his. It's so fucking good.

Fuck it. Just a little kiss. Because I'm fucking curious. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I'm not ready for this.

And I'm so fucking ready for it.

I've been ready for it for ten years.

My heart races as I reach up and touch his cheek again, my fingers brushing along his jawline. It feels so good. And when he inhales sharply and his eyes dart down to my lips... Fuck. God, what the fuck am I doing?

I settle my hand on his neck, my thumb rubbing back and forth lightly along his jaw. Then I gently draw him closer as I lower my mouth to his. My eyes close just as our lips meet. And god, it's just soft and warm and this sort of hot, concentrated desire all at once. His lips caress mine, and I feel both of his hands on my cheeks now, pulling me in closer as he deepens the kiss and moans against me. Fuck, that sound. God, that's fucking hot too.

He moans again, and it's like another rush of heat shoots through me as his tongue darts out to taste my lower lip. It's gentle and exploring, although there's something underneath it all that's becoming hotter. God, it's all hotter and... and harder, and shit, it's a lot.

I should pull back, but I don't want to.

I open my mouth for him instead. And I lower both of my hands to his back. His whimper as I press our hips together sends another burst of desire flooding through me. His tongue explores my mouth, and I reciprocate. And—oh god.

I tear my mouth away from his, breathing hard. God. God, it's just like...

"Fucking . . . peaches and honey."