Page 48 of Back for Seconds

“Stop worrying, June,” he said without making any move to create space between us. “I’m having fun.”

Joey looked gorgeous in the tree’s winking light—different from the man I’d first seen on my little glowing screen. Here, I could count the long lashes on his lower lids; I could see the gentle hollows in his cheeks; I could make out the places on his chin where his beard still didn’t grow, stubble-free and smooth.

“But I want to do something for you,” I said softly, knowing full well that my eyes were brimming with the appreciation I’d pulled out at Sandra’s. I wasn’t a good actress. That look had come from somewhere.

“Like, follow, and subscribe,” he deadpanned.

“Joey. I mean it.”

His eyes fell to mine, as soft as his presence, contoured with the beginnings of gentle laugh lines. He traced my features with the slow sweep of his gaze, finally settling on my lips. My throat bobbed with a heavy swallow. Kiss me, I thought. Just do it. Who cares about anything else? Just kiss me.

“Ok.” Joey’s voice was a low rumble in his chest. “You can do something for me.”

I nodded. “What? Anything.”

His mouth pulled into a sideways smile, full lips pulling back to show his teeth. He took a step closer to me. “You already know, Junie.” He let out a low laugh, then lifted his thumb to gently cup the underside of my chin. “I’ve been waiting all night.”

Chapter 15 Joey

The buzzing in my chest was cacophonous—an overwhelming, building ball of white light and vibration that radiated down my arms and legs, up through my chest, pulsing through my veins, drenching my brain in a feeling I couldn’t describe.

June’s fingers danced ghostlike up the inside of my wrist, traveling up over my biceps. Her eyes—with their toffee-brown color and gentle upturn and endlessly long lashes—locked on mine, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her lips, the color of mulled wine.

In this soft blue light standing in the living room where I had spent so, so many nights—falling asleep on the couch, lying on the floor, watching movies—she looked suddenly familiar. Not like I’d known her longer than three days, but like I’d been sent to the airport with a sign and then there she was—exactly who I’d been waiting for all along.

I brushed my thumb down the side of her neck, drawing a line from her earlobe to the hollow base of her throat, and watched as she inhaled sharply, her lashes casting a fluttering shadow against the apples of her cheeks. Her fingers closed around my wrist. June leaned upward, and my fingers wound into her hair. Her full lips parted, drawing me in with a slow, sweet heat, her tongue dragging over my bottom lip.

Instantly, my body responded. My chest tightened. I drew her close, tilting my body into hers, pressing and pulling her mouth into mine, hungry. A drag of desire like hot molasses sank through me, dripping from where our mouths met down through my insides. Her body was pressed flush against mine, her arms wound around my neck, all her soft curves pressing into me.

I needed her. Every taste of June I got left me wanting more. Her hands traveled up, grabbing for purchase at my chest and then my shoulders as I deepened our kiss, a small animal noise coming from her throat.

She pushed me slightly, urging me backward toward the couch. I responded by slipping my hands down and around her hips, pulling her with me.

“Is this ok?” My voice came out thick with desire, a hoarse whisper against her mouth.

“Better than,” she gasped, breaking away to give me one more push toward the couch. I settled backward and pulled her with me, not letting her break our kiss as she settled onto my lap, legs slung over mine. Slowly, she lowered her weight down onto me until the soft seam of her leggings was flush against me.

She pulled her hair down from the bun on top of her head, and I watched as her waves unfurled in a smooth cascade over her shoulder, past her chest. My eyes were wide, my lips parted. She gave me a little sideways look before pushing her glasses up into her hair, shifting her dark waves away from her face.

“I like the glasses,” I said, my voice coming out in a quick pant. “A lot.”

“You must have some sort of librarian fetish.”

I have a June fetish. Too corny. Instead, I avoided words all together and let out a hum deep in the back of my throat, settling my hands back on her thighs, working upward indulgently over the swell of her hips, upward further to the dip of her waist. I let my body speak for me with the way I dusted my fingertips over the soft thrum of her heart, down quickly over her arms until our fingers were wound together and settled back on her thighs. Her gaze had been fixed on mine the entire time. Until abruptly, she looked away.

“You ok?”

“This is just…funny.” She pulled her hands from mine and ran her fingers quickly through her hair—a nervous habit. “Not like, ha ha funny. But we’ve spent every day together since we met. And I…don’t know what that means.”

I reached for her hand again, turning it over in mine like a treasure. I liked to explore June. I liked the way she gave me a skeptical, scrupulous sidelong glance when I did things like this. I liked the way she scrunched her nose and almost snarled when I showed her how soft she made me feel. I liked flirting with her and watching her harden in response. It made me want to wrap her in my arms and pull her to my chest and kiss and lick every inch of her until she had no choice but to melt into me.

“I think…” I kept my voice low and deep. “It means we’re hanging out, June.”

“Ok…” She rolled her eyes, calculating the various meanings of the phrase “hanging out.” I’d been ambiguous on purpose. I wanted to know: What did she think we were doing?

“Are we…friends?” she said.

Her hesitation was right. Friends didn’t fit what this was at all. “Best friends,” I countered.