“I’d really appreciate that.”
“After my arm is done?” Josh asked, eyeing the boxes on the table.
The nurse laughed. “Someone has his appetite back. Eat. Do you want another dose of pain meds?”
“Maybe something a little lighter? I’m not too keen on zombie mode.”
“Sounds good. We’ll come for you in about an hour?”
“Perfect, thank you.”
I opened the box as she closed the door behind her, but turned to see him staring at me. “What’s wrong, babe?”
He shook his head and blinked. “When I woke up this morning, you were gone, and I thought maybe I had dreamed you being here.”
“Do you dream about me a lot?” I asked with a grin.
“When we crashed, I was knocked unconscious…” His eyes fell away with his voice.
“Josh—”
He glanced at the open box. “Pancakes with strawberries. I love you,” he said with false excitement.
Subject not up for discussion yet. Gotcha.
“Me, or the breakfast?”
“Both,” he promised and leaned up for a kiss. I kissed him gently, lingering, enjoying every second that I had missed for so long. My heart jumped like I was fifteen again, chills racing down my arms as he cupped my face with his hand.
He was as familiar as my own skin, and yet everything felt new, like I was kissing him for the first time. “God, I missed you,” he whispered. His hand tunneled in my hair, pulling it free of the knot I had it tied in. “There are no words for how much.”
I pulled back, stroking my thumbs over his cheeks, avoiding the scabbed scrapes. His eyes held me prisoner, drawing me in with a force I’d never understood yet was utterly thankful for. The distance, the time—it hadn’t mattered, our connection was still there, still crackling just under the surface. “You scared me. When they came to notify us…” My throat closed.
“I know.” His eyes lost their light. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
I shook my head, my thumb grazing his lower lip. “No. Never be sorry for what you bring to my life, Josh. The good, the bad, the amazing…the tragic. It’s all worth it for you. For us.”
He placed a kiss in the palm of my hand, his eyes closing like he was in pain.
Because he is, you moron. “I’m so sorry. Let’s get you fed.” I dropped my hand and turned my attention to his breakfast before he could distract me any further. Fail. I cut his pancakes into bite-sized squares while he dipped the neckline of my V-neck T-shirt and my bra strap off my shoulder. My eyes closed with each kiss he laid on my skin, and I dropped the plastic knife when his tongue traced the indent from my strap. “Josh,” I tried to lecture, but it came out a little too breathy. “You have to eat.”
“Maybe I’d rather have you for breakfast.” His voice dropped, the same way my panties practically begged to. We’d never gone a month without jumping each other, let alone three, but for God’s sake, he was barely out of surgery. Down, girl.
I turned with a forkful of perfectly proportioned pancake/strawberry and syrup/whipped cream and held it to his lips. “I don’t even know if that’s possible.”
He raised one eyebrow, his look so smoldering I was surprised the fire alarms weren’t popping off. “Me wanting you? More than possible. More like a certifiable fact.” The energy streaming through me vibrated, and my muscles clenched. Josh leaned forward and took the bite. God, he was sex personified, and my body screamed to get reacquainted.
Don’t be selfish. He’s freaking injured.
“No, I mean possible in the you-just-had-your-spleen-removed-yesterday way.” I started to put another bite on the fork, but he caught my wrist and held my gaze as he licked the last of the whipped cream off it. So. Fucking. Hot.
A little whimper escaped before he pulled me toward him and crushed his mouth to mine. This was no gentle kiss like before. There was no sweet savoring, no lingering look. Josh kissed me breathless, all tongue, teeth, and strawberries.
I melted. God, I’d missed him—and this—so much. My fingers ran through his hair, the fork lost somewhere in the bedding, and I kissed him back with every single fiber of my being. I poured everything into it, the nights I’d missed him, the fear that had been my constant companion, the relief of having him in my arms again.
He groaned, and I forgot where we were, what had happened in the last forty-eight hours. It was just Josh, my Josh, and we were doing what we did best. His fingers left a trail of shivers down my neck, and I gasped as he set his lips there next, putting perfect pressure on the spot just beneath my ear that he knew drove me insane.
Josh slid his hand to my waist, and then slid it under my shirt. My stomach muscles tensed as his fingers ghosted over my skin, but it was his breath that caught when he dove under my bra to palm one of my breasts. “Perfect,” he whispered against my jawline as he rolled my nipple.
Liquid heat poured through me, but my common sense reared its head when I steadied myself on the back of his raised bed so I didn’t bump his shoulder. “Josh, you’re hurt.”
His hand slipped free, only to take mine under the blankets and press it against his insanely hard erection, with nothing blocking me but his boxers. A sound between a sigh and a moan escaped me. “I’ll hurt a hell of a lot more if I can’t have you. Three fucking months without you, December.” My body temp must have spiked another five degrees, because I was on freaking fire.