There were many ways she had expected it to happen; there were many, many scenarios that she'd played out over and over and over and then once more so that they were so ingrained in her memory that they'd become a part of her.
And yet, the way his lips cascaded down over her collarbone she realized that fantasies must always pale in compare to reality. Pale, like her skin turned pink by the warmth his body graced hers with.
There were many ways he had expected it to happen, he just never thought he'd work up the nerve to test the temperature at the base of her neck, hollow of her throat, swell of breast.
Two weeks back and that's all he could take. Two weeks.
And one night back in D.C. would change it all. Just one. Ratios of skin to clothing, of bed to counter, of him to her and forever. Numbers skated in and out of his brain and just-so wrong, so wrong, someone would find out…
If he'd thought that anything like what was happening was going to happen he would have been prepared to be delicate and soft and make it all right.
His shirt wouldn't have been hanging half open, buttons torn by her more-than-eager hands. She wouldn't have been sitting on top of his kitchen table, one hand on the cool linoleum, the other scratching through the hair at the nape of his neck as she kissed him.
He was supposed to be doing the kissing; he was the one unhinged.
Secrets never stayed secrets for long and he doubted he could keep to himself the glory of her body. He doubted he could keep the brash wonder and happiness off of his face when he saw her from then on.
"Josh, please." He'd never been a very strong man. But the way she was grasping his biceps, pressing herself fully against him, asking, begging him to just be for her, he felt a flush and grasped her tiny frame around the waist, carried her to his bed.
Her hair was in a ponytail, the thing coming loose, wisps falling around her face, tickling her neck, tickling his neck when he leaned in to kiss her deeply. The moan that bubbled up in her throat was returned by him, heartily.
Winter in the district was just about as unforgiving as the winters in New England and the chill that breezed across her body urged her skin to gooseflesh and for a moment he toyed with the idea of kissing every little tiny bump on her skin.
He would have been fine with cradling her to his body for as long as he could breathe a breath but that would have been too much for the moment.
Instead he pressed her back on the sheets and willingly she went, forcing out a breath that she had been holding for God knows how long. It felt warm against his own skin and it wrapped around him, holding him like she wanted to do, like she longed to do but couldn't.
The moment had them too wrapped up and it was smothering them, holding the two of them tightly in its grasp, finally unable to let up. Finally.
Gorgeous, the way his hand slipped between her thighs, apart, spread wide as he can press them because he needs to know, wants to know. And maybe he does need to know, maybe after all those seconds/minutes/hours/moments he has to know just how she tastes, the way she'll feel right up against his tongue.
Nothing hidden anymore, naked flesh awash on his ugly comforter in a bed he rarely slept in and it almost feels as if a christening was about to happen.
She didn't feel like they were doing the moment justice; neither did he. They both walked so fast, moved so quickly outside, in the office, down the anonymous halls. They talked so swiftly and she thought that maybe she should slow it down.
"Jossssssssssssssssssssh," a lovely, groan the consistency of good New Hampshire maple syrup slid into his ears. That was the way she slid onto his tongue, the way he slid between, around through and-"Damn it!"
Josh chuckled, finally realizing that he had a place in the world aside from beside the 'next big name.'
The skirt that was lying on the floor that he had thought had accentuated her hips so very well, he found, did absolutely nothing for the veracity of how they felt in his hands. "Closer," he muttered to no one in particular, maybe her, maybe not.
Either way, Donna shuffled closer and tore his shirt all the way off, her body weeping onto his bedclothes. Finger purposefully stole over the scar on his chest and something lit within her and she sat up all the way, grasping his shoulders and pulling him into a hard hug, taking all the breath from him and shifting so that she could press him down onto the bed.
She hummed softly and smiled, halting the warp speed that had been spinning his brain. And then, like some sort of goddess he didn't wish to place, she straddled his hips and pulled on his belt.
There above him, she made him her world, twirling fingers that could dance full ballets over his chest, whispering softly to him words that he couldn't hear. That didn't matter, though, because her hair was out of the ponytail and crazy over her shoulders and her breasts were thrust forward and it was all for him and she told him so, just once.
"Love you," he could have sworn he heard her whisper as she slid off of him and took his pants, boxers and fear with her. Naked then, just like her and instead of climbing back over her, sliding around him, she laid down next to him, both of their heads a foot from the pillow.
Their feet dangled off the edge of the bed, much like the threat of completion that they were skirting around. "We're going to do this?"
Donna leaned in, nuzzled his neck with her nose. "Someone will find out."
For the first time in ages, Josh felt a lump rise up in his throat and he met head on with the brick wall he knew was there. Nothing was certain and as he crashed, going one hundred, he clutched her desperately. "Someone will find out."
In his arms, she felt so soft, sure, ready, loving him, love, love, loving him and telling him so. "But I don't… don't care," he sighed and kissed the top of her head, swallowing his guilt, his hurt, swallowing his love because there really was just too much to speak of.
Rolling over, moving them up, his fingers skated over her cheek, into her hair and he rested his forehead against hers. "Someone will find out and the official response?"
Donna sighed and smiled and slipped around him as he slip-slid into her. "That, ahhh, that this is how it's supposed to be?"
A smile as he moved, "Something like that."
Sighs and grunt and more than a few moans tinkled around him as he watched her watching him and smiles and smile and more smile and then, when he pressed hard, breathed into her hair and she felt forever he said,
"Or maybe we can just tell them that I love you and that'll be enough."