“Timing sucks now,” I said in a voice that was weak to my own ears.
“Ember. You chose to go for your PhD. Remember? Studying for the GREs? Applying to the dig? Tell me you’re not going to let that all go.”
“I… Everything is a jumble right now.”
He nodded and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his pale blue polo. “This is the one year they’re letting PhD students for anthropology start in the spring, and that’s only because the dig is school-sponsored. If you don’t go, I’m not sure you’ll be able to get in this year. You’ll have to wait.”
“I can’t just leave him. Not when he’s hurt.”
Luke gave an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, well, at least take the packet and keep thinking on it. Selfishly, I’d love to have you there with me.”
“I know. I want to go, Luke.” Just the idea made my fingers tingle at the possibility of unearthing new relics, new art, new pieces of history from a civilization long-since dead. But leaving Josh in two months? His body was healing quickly, too quickly for my comfort, really, but his mind? Could I leave him for two months? “But there’s nothing I won’t give up for Josh. We’ve been through too much together for me to not put him first right now.”
“I respect that, I do. You two have this epic kind of love. Got it. But just remember, it’s your future, too.”
He was right, but what kind of future had me leaving Josh at a time like this?
“It stopped being just my future a long time ago, Luke. It’s us, now. Josh and me against the world—that’s what we’ve always said.”
“And does he see it that way?” he asked. My eyes narrowed, and he threw his hands up, palms out like he was under arrest. “Hey, I’m trying to help, I swear.”
“Of course he sees it that way. Josh is the least selfish person I know. He’s always put me first. He’s always been whatever I needed no matter what it costs him. I’m just trying to be the same for him.”
His expression softened, as did his voice. “Look, I’m just saying that if he’s shutting you out, it’s because he’s either scared of what he’s not telling you…”
“Or?”
“Or maybe he’s trying to push you away.”
The taste of coffee went sour in my mouth. “He wouldn’t.”
“Even if he thinks he’s not what’s best for you?”
Well, shit.
“Trash is out.”
Josh walked unsteadily into the kitchen as I popped cinnamon rolls into the oven the next morning. “Thanks, babe,” I said, my forehead puckering, “but I could have done that. You need to sit.”
He shook his head and smiled at me. “I didn’t want us to miss pickup, and besides, PT said I could walk on it yesterday.”
I snorted. “She said you could get off crutches but you had to take it easy.”
“The kitchen is easy.”
“The couch is easier.” I motioned to the living room with my head. “Save up your strength for Arizona, since we leave in ten days.”
“Only if you come sit with me.” He stepped forward, pinning me against the counter.
“You’re making it difficult for me to move.” A smile crept into my voice as I looked up at him. God I loved him, so much that my heart ached, stretched to max capacity. I’d taken what Luke said to heart yesterday, ignored the sting in my soul that Josh had confided in Jagger and Paisley but not me, and focused on proving to him that I wasn’t going anywhere.
Everything else could come in time.
“Maybe I like where I have you.” His smile was blinding, his eyes clear of shadows, as if my Josh was shining out from behind his war-ravaged exterior.
“Maybe I like being here,” I said, my hands slipping beneath his Under Armour T-shirt. I barely suppressed a groan at the feel of his abs beneath my fingers. Even after everything he’d been through, the man had a body that needed to be molded, sculpted, adored by the public…or maybe just me.
His eyes darkened. “December,” he whispered. He hadn’t touched me since West Point, and after nearly five days, we both radiated some pretty intense sexual tension.
My lips tingled and parted, my body recognizing its match and becoming hyperaware. His hand left the counter and shifted to my waist, squeezing lightly. I ran my nails down the skin of his stomach, and he sucked in his breath through clenched teeth. I loved that sound. I loved all of this really, the anticipation, reveling in the fact that this man was mine in every sense of the word.
My fingers traced the soft elastic of his board shorts, then dipped past the waistline and tugged, bringing him flush against my stomach. He was already hardening for me. I ran my thumb down his length and was rewarded by a low moan. Standing on my tiptoes, I brushed my lips against the stubble on his jaw. “What’s on your mind?”
“You,” he answered. “Thinking about the first time I had you pushed up against a kitchen counter.”
“Breckenridge,” I whispered.
“It’s the pajamas,” he said, his hand cupping my ass through the flannel.
“Hey, you said movie marathon. I vetoed pants.”
“Oh, babe, I am most definitely not complaining.” He looked down at me, two little lines appearing between his eyebrows.
“What?”
“There was a little something different,” he muttered, then lifted me with one hand and deposited me onto the counter. “That’s right.”