Joy. Joy coursed through the veins that made him so casually authentic, and when the song on the radio changed, his low chuckle made her halt her hand, fingertips enjoying the sensation.
“Dirty Dozen Brass Band,” he said, kissing the hollow of her neck.
Knowing the song—and delighted that he knew the band, because no one she knew ever did—she stroked him twice, then slid her hand along the tight ridges of muscle in his inner thigh.
“‘Don’t You Feel My Leg,’” he said.
“Song title, or command?”
“Song title, of course,” he whispered, eyes closing as she wrapped her hand around him, fingers struggling to touch. The tuba’s deep bass line felt jaunty and joking, a bit out of pace for this moment, and yet it was fitting. Whatever came to them just did, as if life orchestrated what fate poured into the air. He stopped her, opening his eyes and pulling himself up over her, giving her access to all of him. My God. How beautiful he was.
“I want to be in you, Ms. Josephine,” he said, as if he had to ask permission. Yet it wasn’t a question, was it?
“And I want you in me, Dr. Perfect,” she replied, rolling over to open the drawer where she stored the necessary precautions. As she turned, his hand caressed her ass, lips dipping down to kiss her on each buttock, making her laugh. This was intense and frolicking, all at once. The two, it seemed, were not mutually exclusive in Alex’s bedroom world.
“Dr. Perfect?”
“McDreamy was taken.”
The baritone laugh that came out of him, his face morphing from sexual intensity to pure delight, made her fall a little more into something she feared was as close to love as she was capable of feeling. Where was the awkwardness? The self-conscious mental ricocheting of thoughts and worries and suppositions? She and he were two people entwined on her bed, about to make love, and as he took the condom from her and dispensed with the formalities quickly, she found a glee in her that had never been present during sex before. Instead of hiding her emotions, as she normally did, focused solely on the animal nature of the act, on surges and rushes and highs and explosions, Josie allowed Alex to bring her to a new kind of lovemaking. It was almost too easy.
Almost. Tears threatened to fill her eyes, drawn out by a groundswell of emotion that made her look at him—really look at him—and see a man she could spend her whole life with, love—
“You are so amazing,” Alex said, interrupting her thoughts. Thank God.
“You are, too,” she said, her body surprised when he rolled and pulled her on top of him. Oh, he liked it this way? Enjoying the power of having him spread out before her, her hands washed over his chest, up his neck, to his face, tracing his lips with fingers that tried to memorize him. Adjusting her hips, she ached to have him in her. He made her feel tiny and delicate, but also on display as his hands roamed up her belly, over the edge of her ribcage, then cupped both br**sts.
“This,” he said, hands now on her hips, guiding her, “is amazing, too.” And then all she needed to do was a small lift with one thigh, a knee placed on the bed just so, and the tip of him filled her, the pressure so inviting that he entered her slowly, the gasp of pleasure as their eyes met, the wordless communication and communion actually bringing those tears out. A shaky smile stretched over her lips as Alex moved inside her, so inadequate to display the vortex of emotions swirling within her, all of them crying out for more, more, more. This was what making love was supposed to have been like all these years? What else had she been missing out on?
Leaning together for a kiss, their bodies moved in rhythm, her deep core of heat growing, emanating out into her limbs while tightening at the center, her pu**y walls clamping down as Alex groaned, lips pressed against hers. At some point, the kiss became lost as each felt the cl**ax form, something shared that could only be fueled by mutuality.
“Josie,” he whispered through gritted teeth, just as she was about to say his name, too. Both felt it, and then he added, “Are you…?”
“Close?” she filled in for him. “God, yes.”
That was all it took as Alex enveloped her h*ps with his strong, big hands, a conductor of the symphony’s end, setting the rhythm and choosing strokes far more sensual than any she would have found on her own. One, two, three thrusts up and the orgasm slammed into her, grown large by an impossible sense of love and longing that played itself out in an embrace as she wrapped every spare section of skin against his body, holding on for dear life as stray strands of his hair caught in her mouth, ragged gasps her only words now, proving him right. She could think of nothing more than Alex, Alex, Alex, his name an infinite loop of pure joy, her body racked with wave after wave of him.
Whole body on fire, the heat receded slowly, her awareness of aching hips, and a slightly raw feeling where he entered her, reminders of the juxtaposition of their sizes. Alex was big, she was not, and whatever similarities they shared, in bed he was decidedly all man. He made her all woman.
A loud crack pierced the air, and then the crowd at the baseball field cheered, the sound bursting through the open window.
“Well, I knew I was good, but I’ve never had that kind of reaction before,” Josie said, sitting up, her hand cradling Alex’s face. Rich, brown eyes met hers with a kindness and depth that would have terrified her, even a day ago.
“I would give you a standing ovation,” he said.
“You just did,” she said, squeezing a Kegel around him. Laughing, he slid out of her, then rolled her off him, spooning. So much warmth. The man’s entire body was one big heating pad, and she wondered what this would feel like in the dead of winter, cozy in bed with Alex, no longer needing the cats to warm her feet.
That thought made her roll her eyes, the intrusion of cat-lady fears seeping into the afterglow. She and Laura had often mournfully joked about being alone in old age, surrounded by cats. Alex’s steady breath filled her ear, the rasp of stubble against her neck, the slow, layered relaxation of her body against his banishing those fears. They were one right now, and then her stomach gurgled, a horridly intrusive sound that seemed louder than the crowd outside.
“We forgot to eat,” he said, the rush of his breath against her ear a luxury she could become accustomed to making commonplace. As if on cue, his stomach growled as well, sending them both into giggles, their bodies shaking in bed, joy pouring forth in new ways.
The room had darkened enough that she reached forward to snap on the bedside table light. Still nude, their bodies were a series of legs and h*ps and arms, all mixed together like a bouquet of flowers. Peeling away, she searched the floor for her clothes, spotting each piece and cataloging. Whatever happened next was random, so she was uncertain. Get dressed? Slide under the covers? Hop in the shower? Boil the pasta?