“I heard the banging.” Her voice grew closer with each word. He felt her hand on his back, gently resting on his shoulder blade. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Fuck it. Let her see the tears. She’d come here red-eyed and weeping. She hadn’t tried to hide her pain.
“I’m not, Josie. I’m so damn far from OK.” He turned around, letting her see all of him, broken down and battered by the news that his friend might die and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Me neither.” She reached her hands up and cupped his cheeks, wiping away his tears with her thumbs.
He reached for her, pulling her close, needing to feel her cheek against his chest, her body against his. And yeah, he was still naked. He should probably ask her to wait outside while he found some damn shorts, and then take her back to the kitchen for more pie.
“Noah?” she whispered.
He closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m scared,” he murmured.
“That he’ll die?” she asked, her voice trembling.
That he’ll die. That if he makes it, he won’t even recognize himself.
He felt her tears start to flow as if he’d turned on a faucet. Shit, he was a jerk for making her cry again.
“Josie.” He lifted his head, placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her back. Her eyes swam with helplessness and fear. And he wanted to make it all go away. He wanted to erase her pain and strip away his own. He hated the fear, demanding his attention.
But what the hell could he do?
His gaze fell to her parted, trembling lips. He could escape. The fear, the pain, the tears . . .
He lowered his lips to hers. Running his tongue over her lower lip, he waited for her to push free.
But her arms wound around his neck. Her fully clothed body pressed up against him. And he kissed her harder, deeper, losing himself in the feel of her mouth. She tasted like sugar and bourbon. She was intoxicating.
And right now?
She was saving him.
Chapter Eighteen
JOSIE UNDERSTOOD GRIEF. She could navigate the fog that descended when the Bad News Bears arrived and delivered their doom-and-gloom message.
Your brother has been injured.
Your brother needs surgery.
She had heard those words and the haze had swallowed her. There was no way out. She knew that. The bears stood guard, keeping her locked in fear and anguish.
Until Noah kissed her.
One kiss from a man who was fighting the same fears didn’t change a thing. But oh God, it felt so good. The touch of his lips, the feel of his hands pulling at her shirt as if he needed to touch the skin beneath . . .
Her body responded, demanding more, needing to feel more. She ran her hands over the smooth skin of his broad back, down to his waist and around to his chiseled abs. Her tongue touched his as she traced her fingers over his six-pack.
So much strength.
Gliding her hands upward, she pressed her palms flat against his chest, dimly aware of his fingers toying with the button on her pants. He tugged at her zipper, but didn’t bother pushing her pants down over her hips. He simply slipped his hands inside and drew her to him, keeping a firm hold on her ass.
Groaning, she broke away from his kiss and tipped her head back. His mouth trailed kisses over her jaw, down her throat, as if he needed to taste every inch of her.
More. I need more.
She wanted to keep the fog of grief locked outside his bedroom. She didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel. She needed him right now because she couldn’t step into that place where the world felt like it was falling apart, spiraling out of control. Not yet.
“It’s not fair,” she murmured, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling.
His lips hovered over the swell of her breasts peeking out over the top of her shirt. “Not much is.”
Oh no, don’t go there.
“You’re naked and I’m not,” she said, drawing him back to this place where physical desire dominated.
He let out a low laugh as his tongue glided over her skin, licking just above the edge of her T-shirt. “Not fair at all.”
She broke away from him and stripped off her clothes. Her movements were rushed and she nearly fell over trying to get out of her pants. But she wasn’t looking to seduce him. She wanted to take him, fighting her way to a mutual pleasure that would block out everything else.
His brow knitted together as he watched her. “Are you sure—”
“Shhh.” She placed her index finger over her lips. “I need you, Noah. I’m not calling, sending a letter, or a pigeon. I’m right here and I need—”
His lips captured hers, his hands on her hips, drawing her close and then guiding her back. Her legs touched the bed and she lowered down, sitting on the edge. She took him with her.