For Better or Worse (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen

I
TOLD YOU, YOU
were drooly,” he said, wiping at his shoulder as they climbed the steps toward their respective apartments. “I have dried spit on my shoulder.”

“You do not,” Heather retorted, not looking back.

He probably did.

She would have felt awkward about waking up with her head nestled under his chin, her arm looped over his waist, with his around her shoulder.

But since this was Josh, he'd quickly made a joke about her snoring and was now complaining about her drool.

Two topics that definitely ensured any intimacy between them was purely platonic and wildly unsexy. And although a part of her wanted him to see her as a woman, she was too high on the warm fuzzies of the day to let his indifference to her lady bits get to her.

Heather felt horribly disloyal to her mom for having the thought, but today's Thanksgiving had been the type of holiday she'd dreamed about on the
Thanksgivings spent at the diner when her mom had to work, picking at green beans from a can and gravy that had congealed on the plate long before it had been set in front of her.

The family element had been exactly right, too. The gentle bickering, the exasperation, and the love. So much love. It had been everywhere, from the way Josh had gently coaxed smiles from his grumpy grandma to the way Josh's parents had snuck gooey, lovesick looks across the table.

The Tanners would likely never know the gift they'd given her, but she was grateful all the same.

When they reached their respective front doors, Heather made a grab for one of the bags and peeked inside. “Is this the one with pie in it?”

He glanced down into his own bag and gave her a victorious grin. “Nope. You've got the carrots and potatoes. I've got the pie.”

She held out the bag to him. “Trade.”

“Hell no. I want a piece of this pie just as badly as you do. Maybe with a cup of really excellent coffee.”

She groaned. “You know I can't handle it when you talk dirty.”

Josh stepped closer and wiggled his eyebrows, lowering his voice to a husky tone. “Can you smell it? All those dark roast beans? A hit of smoke, a little bit of chocolate. The way its rich bitterness rolls over your tongue, mingling with the sweetness of the pumpkin pie.”

“So this is how you coax women into your apartment? Because it's totally working,” Heather said with a whimper.

Something flickered in his gaze, but then he smiled and it was gone. “Actually, I'm inviting myself into
your
apartment. My coffee stash is still in your place from this morning.”

“Even more impressive,” Heather said as she shoved her key into the lock. “You've managed to get yourself an invitation into my apartment.”

“Ah, but will it get me into your thong?”

She rolled her eyes and ignored him, stepping into her apartment and knowing he would follow.

“Speaking of this morning, are you still wearing a thong?” he asked, shutting her front door.

“Speaking of this morning, how about you hand over that spare key?” she shot back as she hoisted the bag onto the counter and began putting leftovers in her fridge.

“I see you're helping yourself to my family's leftovers,” he said.

“Okay, fine, keep the key in the short term,” she said, shoving aside a carton of milk to make room for a Tupperware of gravy. “We'll have joint custody of the leftovers.”

Heather pulled down two plates for their pie as Josh went about the process of heating water and scooping coffee into her French press, trying to ignore the little sense of contentment she felt at how easily he fit into her apartment.

Almost as though he belonged there.

“Pecan or pumpkin?” she asked.

“Really?”

“Both it is,” she said, cutting two enormous slices of pie for him and two smaller ones for herself.

Heather waited patiently for the coffee to finish before taking a bite. Josh did not, and he was already on his second slice of pumpkin as they settled at her table with two steaming cups of coffee and plates of pie.

“Can I ask you something without you freaking out?” she said. His chewing slowed and his gaze went wary, and Heather lifted her fork in reassurance. “Don't worry, you don't have to answer.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly.

She put a piece of creamy pumpkin pie in her mouth, slowly withdrawing the fork as she studied him, wondering at the wisdom in asking.

What the hell.

“I'm missing something, aren't I?” she said.

“Huh?”

“About your past. You don't have to tell me what it is if you don't want to, and I promise never to ask specifics, but there's a piece missing, right? Something I don't know about you? Something you don't like talking about? That's why you got all mad at lunch the other day. It's why your entire family will talk endlessly about your childhood and yesterday, but anything a few years back is off-limits.”

Josh stared at his coffee for a long moment, and for a second she thought—hoped—he might actually confide in her.

Instead he merely nodded. That was it. A nod.

Heather swallowed her disappointment.

“Okay!” she said with false brightness. “I won't mention it again. Really. I know you don't want to
talk about it, I just sort of wanted to make sure I wasn't crazy, you know? And I—”

“4C. Heather. Stop.”

His voice was quiet. Steady.

She clamped her mouth shut. “Sorry.”

“No, don't apologize,” he said, starting to reach across the table, and then stopping, as though thinking better of it. “I'm sorry. It's not you that I don't want to talk to. I just don't like talking about it with anyone. My family knows what went down because they were there, as do some of the friends who stuck around. But trust me when I say I sometimes wish I could erase their memories.”

“It was that bad?” she asked quietly.

“Not so much.” He fiddled with his fork. “It's just that I don't want to be defined by something that happened in the past. I want to be defined by who I am now, not something that happened a couple years ago.”

“But I wouldn't—”

“Yes,” he interrupted kindly but firmly. “You would. You wouldn't want to think of me differently, or act differently around me, but you would. And I don't want that.”

She sighed into her coffee, knowing a lost cause when she saw one. “Okay.”

“I like us as we are,” he said. “I like the way you act around me
now
.”

A corner of her mouth lifted at that. “What, slightly bitchy?”

He smiled back. “Not bitchy. More . . . unabashed.”

She snorted. “Just how every woman wants to be described by a man she . . .”

Josh's gaze sharpened. “A man she what?”

Heather froze, as every swear word in the book ran through her head at warp speed.

“Nothing. I don't know,” she said, dropping her fork onto her plate and carrying it to her sink even though she hadn't finished her pie. Didn't matter. Her appetite was long gone.

Josh followed her, his own plate in hand, although his was empty. He set it beside hers on the counter, and when Heather tried to move away to put more distance between them, he lifted his arm, resting one hand on the counter so that she couldn't move forward without touching his arm.

And touching him was really not on the agenda right now.

“A man you what, 4C?”

She shook her head. “I don't know.”

“Yes you do.”

She lifted her chin and met his eyes. “I really don't. Really. I don't know what I was going to say.”

It was true. Even now she wasn't sure what word her brain was trying to come up with. It was as though the sentence had come from the deep, forbidden part of herself that she kept on lockdown.

“Take a guess,” he said, coming infinitesimally closer. Not enough to touch, just enough for her to feel his body warmth. Smell his cologne. See the dark gold of his five o'clock shadow.

“You're not the only one who thinks some things are better left unsaid, Josh.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. “No?”

She shook her head and took a step backward so she could move around him the other way, but he lifted his other arm, slowly lowering his hand to the countertop so that she was good and truly caged by his arms.

And they were good arms.

Even beneath his dress shirt she could see the curve of the biceps, see the way the fabric stretched across his chest and shoulder. Her eyes dropped to where the top button lay open, just enough to perfectly frame his Adam's apple and give a glimpse of the smooth skin beneath.

And suddenly Heather knew exactly what word her subconscious had been trying to say:

Want.

This was a man she wanted.

Rather desperately.

All of the swear words sounded in her head again, louder this time.

She might want him, but she didn't want
this
. Didn't want to be another of his flings, another in a long line of Josh Tanner's conquests. Hell, not a week ago she'd watched that Kitty girl slink into his apartment all trim and sexy and shiny haired.

And tomorrow there'd be another Kitty, and the night after that yet another, and—

“Heather.”

“What?” This time she wasn't brave enough to meet his eyes.

“Look at me.”

She shook her head.

“You're sure you don't want to finish that sentence?”

“
Positive
,” she blurted out.

His laugh was startled, maybe a little hurt, but more likely it was just his ego that was stinging. She suspected not very many women rejected him.

But then not that many women had to live next door to him, either.

Lucky for them.

“A couple minutes ago, you asked if you could ask me something,” he said. “My turn.”

“I already told you, I don't know how I was going to finish the sentence,” she lied.

“That's not my question.”

“Fine. And then you'll move?” she said.

Josh smiled, the warmth of it making her hot. “Sure. And then I'll move.”

She gestured impatiently with her hand for him to continue.

“Did you sleep with Trevor?”

Her eyes flew to his.
“What?”

His face was unreadable now, his smile gone. “That night when Trevor came into your apartment. Did you sleep with him? Or any night after?”

She laughed disbelievingly. “You don't get to ask me that. Not with your constant string of women coming in and out.”

Josh inched closer, and Heather shifted backward until her butt hit the counter, her hips now just inches from his thumbs. “Did. You. Sleep. With. Trevor.”

Heather frowned in confusion and shook her head. “No. Why?”

“Because I needed to know if you belong to someone else before I do this.”

His mouth dropped to hers.

And just like that, Heather was kissing Josh Tanner with everything she had.

Chapter Nineteen

J
OSH WAS A GOOD KISSER.

She'd kind of hoped she'd been imagining that the last couple times, but nope. The man was really, truly good at this.

She'd known from the very second he'd opened the door with no shirt the first time they'd met that she would enjoy it. The
real
surprise came from the fact that this kiss wasn't just skilled, wasn't just
hot
like the others had been, although it was both of those—the surprise was that it was
perfect
.

As though their mouths had been meant for each other.

He started off slow, his lips lightly brushing over hers. No tongue, just his lips against hers as they explored each other, trying to see how they fit—if they fit.

And they definitely did.

His tongue caressed the center of her bottom lip.
Open
.

She obeyed, and then his tongue was sliding
against hers. Heather whimpered and lifted her hands to his face, her palm cupping his jaw as the other hand slid around to the back of his neck, keeping his head bent to hers lest he come to his senses and pull away.

Josh's hands found her waist, his fingers curving around to her lower back as he pressed forward until they were chest-to-chest and she was pinned between him and the kitchen counter.

He tasted like nutmeg and coffee and
Josh
, and it was the last one that was the most potent of all.

His hands slid up her sides, his thumbs idly moving over her rib cage, stopping just beneath her breasts, which were now full and heavy and wanting.

Heather made a whimpering noise of need and he groaned in response, his arms winding all the way around her now, drawing her to him as he tilted his head and took the kiss deeper, hotter.

It was the sort of kiss that was better than sex. Unless, of course, one was talking about sex with Josh, in which case she was pretty sure this was just the appetizer.

When they pulled back to breathe, he rested his forehead against hers with a soft laugh. “Well, what are we going to do about this, 4C?”

In response, she lifted her eyes to his and slowly brought her hands to the front of his shirt, her fingers toying with the second button before flicking it open.

His eyes flickered. “Heather—”

She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the V of his throat, teeth scraping against his warm skin before she soothed it with her tongue.

His breath hitched even as he lifted his hands to her head as though to pull her away, and in a last-ditch effort to persuade him otherwise, she tilted her hips forward, rubbing rather shamelessly against the unmistakable bulge of his erection. But she didn't care. Now that she'd had a taste of him, she knew she wanted—no, needed—to see this through, even if it was only for tonight.

His body went still as his fingers tangled in her hair. “You seducing me, 4C?”

“Is it working?”

His breath was hot against her cheek. “I want you. Obviously. But—”

“No but,” she said quickly, lifting her head and brushing her mouth against his. “We don't have to make a thing of it. It can just be sex.”

His eyes flickered in doubt, and she lifted her eyebrows in challenge. “Unless, of course, you're in danger of falling madly in love with me. It's okay if you are, it happens.”

She smiled in response as she met his eyes. “Oh, that's not what you're worried about, is it? It's my poor little heart you think is at risk.”

Josh winced. “It sounds so condescending when you say it like that.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “It does, doesn't it?”

He opened his mouth, and she rested her fingers lightly against his lips. “Josh. Hear me out. I like you. You like me. We're friends. We're neighbors. But with all due respect, I'm way too smart to fall in love with you.”

He smiled. “Should I be insulted?”

“How about you just be naked instead? I'm getting impatient.”

“Will you hate yourself tomorrow morning? Or me?”

“No. Not once I've had my coffee,” she retorted.

Josh's laugh was swift and genuine. “Well, you were right about one thing, 4C. I do like you.”

“I know,” she said before she pulled his mouth down to hers once more. “But Josh. No more talking. Tonight I don't want to be bickering Josh and Heather, I want to be—I want—”

Josh's mouth brushed softly over hers. “I know. I want, too. Heather.”

Heather. Not 4C.

His kiss was gentle as he coaxed her lips open, his mouth making love to hers in sweet, hot caresses, his tongue lingering and seductive.

In the very back of her mind she knew that he'd kissed dozens of women. Perhaps even more. But tonight he was kissing
her
, and it felt . . . significant.

His hands slid up her sides, reminding her of her naughty dreams, and she smiled. He pulled back. “Tickle?”

She shook her head. “No. Just really, really good.”

They undressed each other in leisurely, slow movements, taking time to explore every inch of skin revealed.

She gave back as good as she got, her fingers making quick work of the remainder of his buttons as she shoved the dress shirt over his shoulders and down his arms.

Heather froze a little in nervousness when he
tugged her upward to unsnap the back of her bra, and he stilled. “Want me to stop?”

Her eyes closed. “I'm not good at this like you are.”

Josh pulled back slightly, touching a knuckle to her lip. “Trust me. It's already very, very good because it's you.”

Her eyes closed and her breath caught.

It was the right thing to say as he'd likely known it was. This time when he reached for her bra, she didn't freeze. And when his palms came around to cup her, she arched into him, biting her lip as his thumbs brushed over the sensitive peaks. He smiled at her whimper as his fingers continued their slow perusal, circling and flicking until her nipples were hard and begging.

“You like that,” he whispered.

She nodded.

“Me too,” he whispered. He dipped his knees so his mouth was even with her breasts, and her breathing quickened in anticipation.

But his touch didn't come.

Wild with need, she glanced down, saw him watching her. Only when their eyes met did he give her what she needed, his mouth slowly closing around one nipple and pulling it into his warm wet mouth.

“Josh.” Her fingers dug into his hair.

In response he moved to her other breast, giving them both equal worship time before he straightened and took her hand, leading her into the bedroom.

“A bed? How conventional,” she quipped, trying to ward off some of the embarrassment of being
mostly naked, her nipples damp and cold from his mouth.

“Yeah, well, thought I'd spoil you, what with it being a holiday and all,” he said.

“What happens when it's not a holiday? Kitchen sex?”

Josh turned once he reached the bed and tugged her toward him, her bare breasts brushing the hard planes of his chest and sending her already-simmering lust up another notch. “Kitchen sex. Shower sex. Couch sex, taxi sex—”

“
Taxi
sex?”

He smiled wickedly against her mouth as he kissed her slow and deep as she tried to figure out whether he was joking.

In the end, it didn't matter. Because when he gently lowered her to the bed and lowered himself on top of her, there was only
this
moment.

He removed her pants and then his own, before glancing down her body and running a single finger along the top edge of her panties, just below her belly button.

“You never answered my question,” he said, his voice quiet as his finger roamed lower.

“What question?” Her voice was breathy.

“Are you still wearing a thong?”

In response, Heather merely lifted her eyebrows. “I thought we agreed no more talking.”

His gaze narrowed, and he slowly pushed her onto her stomach, groaning as he got the answer to his question.

“Why am I so obsessed with your ass?” he asked,
his fingers trailing down her back until they reached the tiny fabric of the thong.

He hooked a finger beneath it teasingly, and Heather folded her arms under her head, biting the back of her hand to keep herself from begging him to touch her.

She didn't have to beg.

He was already touching, his palm molding the shape of her butt as he planted hot kisses on the back of her neck.

His hand trailed lower, snaking under the fabric of her underwear as he slid a finger into her wetness without preamble. They both moaned.

Josh shifted, pulling his hand away only to reach under her, sliding his hand into her panties once more, this time using two fingers to circle her slowly and she bucked against him in need.

Heather tried to roll to her back, but he wouldn't let her, his body weight holding her still as he trapped her against the bed—against his relentless fingers, probing and teasing until she exploded in his hand, muffling her cries against her arms.

He let her recover, brushing kisses over her shoulder until her cries turned into heavy breaths, before flipping her over.

Josh's mouth dropped to hers, kissing her wild and hot before pulling back slightly. “Tell me you have a condom.”

Heather managed to move her lethargic limbs to get at her nightstand, pulling out a box of condoms that hadn't seen action in a very, very long time.

Josh pulled the condom from her hand before
slowly pulling her toward him once more, his hand tangling in her hair as he kissed her thoroughly, lowering her slowly to her back.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered against her neck. “And I've wanted this so damn long.”

Heather pulled his mouth to hers. “Then let's not wait any longer.”

She opened to him as he settled above her, waiting until she gave him her eyes before he slid inside her, slow and thick and hard.

“Jesus,” he whispered into her neck. “Jesus, 4C.”

He pulled his hips back slowly, and this time when he pushed forward, she arched to meet him, their bodies sliding together in perfect rhythm.

“Again,” she whispered. “More.”

He gave her more. He gave her everything, one arm hooked behind her neck, the other finding her center, two fingers rubbing over her clit until she was there, shattering against him, around him.

“Yes,” he said. “Heather—”

He let out a hoarse cry against her hair, his body bucking into hers, her hands on his ass, urging him on until he collapsed on top of her, a heavy, welcome weight.

And even in her postcoital bliss, Heather had the annoying realization that Josh Tanner was the best sex she'd ever had.

Her eyes flew open when she realized she'd said it aloud, but before embarrassment could sink in, he pressed his lips gently to hers. “Right back at you, 4C.”

She smiled happily, her fingers drifting over his
shoulder as he settled his head beside hers on the ­pillow.

But as postorgasmic bliss slowly faded and reality crept in, Heather realized that far from scratching the itch, she had never wanted him more.

Dangerous territory for a man who made it very clear he wasn't playing for keeps.