Chapter 20

His lips moved from her mouth to her neck and she was glad she wasn't standing up, because her knees immediately turned to jello. She made a sound, a half-moan half-groan completely desperate sound that was in no way playing hard to get, and felt him smile against her neck. She smiled too, even though he couldn't see it, and turned into him a bit more. She wasn't sure how they'd ended up on the couch, her body accepting his on top of her as if it had been there a thousand times and fit just perfectly, but she thought Liz would be excited to know that they'd progressed to horizontal kissing.

She'd been sitting on the couch, him crouched on the floor in front of her, and he'd told her that he needed her to be his future. His future. And that meant he could be hers, and that was everything. She'd smiled at him then and he'd leaned in and kissed her softly, almost questioningly, and she'd wrapped her arms around him and held on tighter than she ever had to anyone or anything before in her life. And maybe at that point, she'd started pulling him onto the couch with her, or maybe he'd been pushing her back to make room, but as his teeth grazed her collarbone and she gasped, she figured it really didn't matter anymore.

Her stomach growled just little bit and she thought it was a good sign that after a week of barely eating, she was hungry again. But she had better things to think about at the moment; his hands were in her hair and hers were in his, a place she thought she could easily leave them forever, and suddenly a picture of the two of them showering together flashed in her mind and she could see herself lathering shampoo in his hair as he did the same for her.

When she pulled herself back to reality, his lips weren't on her anywhere. She opened her eyes and he was above her, looking down at her face with eyes warmer than she'd ever seen. She blushed and smiled at him, and he shifted onto his side behind her on the couch, one of his legs hooked between hers, and traced her lips with his fingertips.

"How long can you stay?" he whispered, studying her mouth instead of her eyes.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, wondering how long it would be before he really trusted her, then opened them and ran her fingers through his hair. "Josh, I told you. I'm going to stay as long as you let me. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

He pulled his eyes to hers, moving his hand from her mouth and brushing her lips with his. "I meant today," he whispered against her.

"Oh," she said, suddenly feeling like an idiot. "Sorry."

He pulled back, resting his head on one hand while the other drew random patterns on her stomach over her shirt. "I'm not. I like hearing it. I might need you to remind me of it for a while."

She shifted onto her side, facing him, and propped her head up on her hand as well, the confines of the couching pressing them intimately close to each other. "I know."

He moved his free hand to her back, pulling her even closer. "So how long can you stay?"

She hesitated, worried that if she spit out 'all day and all night' like she wanted to, she'd look a little too eager. "I didn't plan anything else today."

"Nothing? You don't need to study?"

"I always need to study, but I don't have anything big coming up."

"Then stay with me," he said as he leaned in, not giving her time to answer before taking her lips with his again.

"I'll stay," she whispered a minute later, detaching herself from his lips and reattaching her mouth to his neck, sucking lightly while bringing her free hand to his hair again almost as if it were a magnet, pulling her there.

He stayed still for a minute, letting her explore his neck, then rolled her onto her back again and settled himself on top of her. Her stomach growled again and he chuckled. "Hungry?"

"Later," she said distractedly, pulling her legs out from underneath him and cradling him between her thighs.

He groaned and trailed his lips down to the bit of her chest exposed by her v-neck shirt. "Is this ok?" he whispered, laying hot, wet kisses on her.

He'd asked her that once before, the night she'd made him dinner, and just like that night she wasn't sure what could possibly be considered not ok about what he was doing to her. She put her hands back in his hair, finding it hard to participate otherwise. "Yes."

He continued kissing her, brushing her necklace out of the way with his fingertips and then grazing her neck and collarbone, warming each place he touched as though his fingers were on fire. He kissed his way back up her neck and to her lips, his tongue tangling with hers slowly and deliberately instead of light and teasing as it had been a week earlier at her apartment.

She could feel him sliding off of her to one side again, and immediately she missed his warmth and leaned into him. One of his hands found the hem of her shirt and dipped underneath it to the skin just above the waist of her jeans. He pulled away from her mouth and got out nothing more than, "Is this…" before Donna whispered yes and melted onto his lips again.

His hand on her skin felt like fire yet still made her shiver. He moved slowly, to her back first, both touching her and pulling her closer to him at the same time. When his fingers danced across the back of her bra and then underneath it to the skin there, she had the nearly uncontrollable urge to tell him to move to the front. One of her own hands found its way under his shirt, her fingernails lightly scratching their way across his back as far as she could reach. Her other hand clung to him around his neck as he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking and nibbling and licking, and she could no longer concentrate on any one thing he was doing to her.

His hand came around to her lower stomach, gently pushing her onto her back again. He stayed on his side, and although she tried to keep her lips attached to his, the angle was awkward and he let go of her bottom lip and started kissing her neck again as his palm splayed across her stomach. "You're so soft," he mumbled into her ear before kissing that spot right behind it that made her whimper.

She was breathing heavily by then, unable to do anything but feel him on her. His hand stayed on her stomach, his fingers close enough to her breasts that she could feel the heat off of them, and she was tempted to move his hand up a few inches, but worried that might be too much too soon. It had, after all, only been a week since she'd caused him so much pain that he couldn't be around her. Just because she'd been waiting for this for years didn't mean he was ready for it.

It was minutes later when he brushed against her bra, and even then it was so light that she was positive it had been an accident. But a few minutes after that, he did it again, a bit bolder although still tentative, and she couldn't stop herself from arching up into him.

He took his mouth off her neck, his breath heavy on her collarbone as his thumb brushed back and forth across her nipple. They were already hard, straining against the fabric, and her breath became even more labored as they both concentrated on the feel of his hand on her and nothing else. She sighed his name and he pulled his head back, looking at her face and then down at his hand under her shirt almost as if he couldn't believe it was really there. He watched as he moved to her other breast, as she arched into him again as his finger tips grazed over her. And then she was pulling her head up off the couch cushion and kissing whatever she could reach on him; his neck, his jaw, his temple, and he turned his head and kissed her deeply as his hand moved back down to her stomach.

He rolled on top of her again and brought his other hand to her face, her hair, her jaw line. He was being so gentle, so careful, so slow, and she loved him even more for it. For treasuring what they were doing. "Can…"

"Yes," she whispered, kissing him again, over and over and over. "Whatever it is, yes."

She worried that maybe she was being too forward or that maybe he wouldn't understand what she was saying, but she felt him harden immediately against her hip and then he was crushing his lips to hers almost bruisingly. They kissed like that, hard and desperate, his hands tangled in her hair and her gripping his shoulder with all the strength she could, and when he pulled back a minute later, he looked at her with a hunger in his eyes that made her instantly wet. He took several deep breaths, his chest moving in sync with hers, and then pulled off of her and stood up, reaching his hand out to her and helping her stand as well.

Standing was a whole different ballgame, she thought. Suddenly, she had far more access to him, and as he walked them towards the bedroom, her hands were everywhere; his neck, his shoulders, his waist, his chest... His hands were on her back again, under her shirt, and he was undoing her bra. She winced, wishing she'd worn something sexier than simple pink cotton, but once he had it unsnapped, he pulled both it and her shirt off of her, tossing them behind him without bothering to watch them land.

He stopped suddenly there in the hallway his eyes on her body, and she could feel herself flush under his stare. Slowly, his hand slid up her stomach to her breast, and he watched his thumb work slowly back and forth on her nipple the way it had a few minutes earlier.

She looked down and gasped at the visual of Josh's hands on her that intimately. Leaning forward, she dipped down and captured his lips, bringing his head back up and starting to walk backwards slowly. He kissed her back, his tongue sliding against hers, as his one hand stayed on her breast and the other came around her back and led her into his bedroom.

They made it to the side of his bed and she pulled the maroon sweater he was wearing up and over his head before following it with his t-shirt. It was her turn to stare at the body she'd imagined more times than she could count. His chest, barely dusted with light reddish brown hair, pronounced muscles normally hidden under dress shirts and suit jackets, a thin white line down the center stopping before reaching his abs, flatter than she would've guessed. She looked up to his shoulders, strong and defined, leading to his arms, his perfect, perfect arms, and watched as her nails trailed over them to his chest and then down his stomach to the button on his jeans. She rested her finger on the button and looked up at him watching her, still and quiet.

He put his hands on her neck, pulling her face to his and kissing her lightly before kissing across her face to her ear. "I love you," he whispered, sighed almost, and tears stung her eyes as her hands stilled. He kissed her ear again, then her forehead before pulling back and stopping at the look on her face. He stared at her for a second, then pulled his hands up to her face and wiped the tears there away with his thumbs. "I'm sorry, it was too soon. I shouldn't have…"

Her lips on his hard and desperate cut him off and she wrapped her hands around his neck, gripping him as tightly as she could. She couldn't get close enough; she felt like she was actually climbing up his body, and his arms came around her waist and held her closer to him while their tongues fought and their teeth clashed. And then she pulled her hands off his neck and fumbled frantically with the button on his jeans because she had to be closer, he was too far away. He must've thought the same thing, because he was unbuttoning her jeans the same desperate way and pushing them down over her hip and she finally got all the buttons on his undone and let them fall down, and then they were stepping out of them and kicking off their socks and pulling and pushing each other towards the bed and the slowness was gone, replaced with need. Pure need. They fell onto the bed and Josh reached for his nightstand, pulling out a condom without ever taking his mouth off of hers.

She finally broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and looked into his dark eyes. "I love you," she whispered before rolling them over and straddled him. "I've always loved you," she mumbled, kissing his chest, the length of his scar. "Always."

She kissed down his stomach, pushing his boxer shorts down over his erection, her mouth hot on his stomach and then his pelvic bone. Before she got any closer, he pulled her up by her shoulders and flipped them back over, his mouth on her breasts and his hand on her inner thigh.

She gasped his name loudly and arched up into him when he touched her and he pulled his mouth from her breast and watched her flushed face and heaving chest. She pulled her head up to kiss him but lost all energy and fell back to the bed. He smiled and kissed her neck before kissing her lips again, capturing her moans with his mouth. Her hands grasped at the sheets and he kissed her ear, pulling her earlobe into his mouth as his hand continued mercilessly below. And then he whispered to her in a soft husky voice, telling her that she was beautiful and amazing, and it was when he said he loved her that she finally came apart, shouting his name.

He was propped on his side, already opening the condom when she caught her breath and opened her eyes. And then he was on top of her again and she was nodding and he was pushing inside. She wrapped her legs high around his waist and they made love slowly as he told her how good she felt and how long he'd wanted to make love to her and she told him that nobody had ever made her feel like that before.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

She held the Corningware in her lap, nervously playing with the lid while chewing her bottom lip and looking out the window. The streets were nearly empty as they drove past the Mall and Holocaust Museum towards Virginia; there were a few homeless men bundled in coats sitting on benches, but otherwise it was quiet for a Thursday, even if that Thursday was Thanksgiving.

It had been more than three weeks since they'd had what she referred to as 'the talk,' which had been followed by a few similar yet less stressful talks. She knew a lot more about his PTSD, things that broke her heart and made her feel guilty for not being there to notice what was happening to him sooner than his co-workers had. He told her that during the worst of it, he'd been promiscuous, very promiscuous, and she'd admitted to kind of already knowing that. And he told her about his hand. How the pain had gotten so bad on the inside that the only way he knew to stop it was to hurt even more on the outside. She'd cried that night after he'd fallen asleep, holding his hand against her heart and vowing to never let him get like that again.

And she'd told him about the darkest of the four years they'd spent apart. How she hadn't been able to sleep or eat, how she'd lost so much weight that her parents had considered having her hospitalized, how her mom had saved her life both figuratively and literally that first year. She'd even told him how she'd wanted to move back to Madison after seeing him in the Shell station, and he'd held her and told her over and over how sorry he was for treating her like that.

Eventually they'd stopped. He told her one night that there'd always been a part of him hoping she was miserable and alone and regretting that she'd left him, and that it made him physically sick now to think that she had been and that he'd wanted it. It'd been hard for him to admit; he'd choked his way through it while holding her from behind so she couldn't see the pain in his face or how close he'd come to crying, but she'd known all the same. That was the night they decided that they had to stop purposely bringing up things that would hurt one or both of them. So they'd struck a deal; they wouldn't lie or hide anything, but they'd let things come out naturally, if and when they needed to. And they wouldn't let the past change the future. And most importantly, they'd stop blaming themselves.

Which was why she was on her way to his mother's on Thanksgiving, nervous and dreading what was to come. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him, she'd just forgotten that she hadn't. They'd talked about so much, so very much, she'd just assumed she'd told him. It wasn't until she was showering that morning that she realized she hadn't.

She could feel his eyes on her at the next light and she turned her head, smiling at him unconvincingly. He reached over and held her hand in his, picking it up and kissing her knuckles. "You're upset that you're not home."

"No," she said sincerely, shaking her head. It had been a decision they'd made after officially becoming a them. Instead of going home for Thanksgiving, she'd spend it in town with him and his mom, then she'd go home for six days at Christmas and he'd fly in on the 23rd and spend Christmas with her.

"You're sure?"

She squeezed his hand. "I just want to be with you."

"You're upset about something," he said softly.

The light turned green and he glanced up at it, but then looked back at her, waiting for her to speak. She paused before nodding. "It's nothing tragic, I just…"

His phone rang, cutting her off, and he mumbled and pulled it from his pocket, looking at the display with a frown. "It's Leo."

"Answer it."

He winced. "I'm…"

"Sorry, and you don't need to be," she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "I'm fine and this is what you do. Answer the phone." She nodded towards the road with a playful smile. "And drive."

He looked at her for a split second before opening his cell phone. "Leo," he said, driving through the intersection as the light turned yellow.

She looked back out the window, paying little attention to the conversation about a female Air Force pilot who was being court marshaled for having an affair with a married officer. She'd heard about it through the grape vine the day before; children's and women's rights often melded into each other, and even though this situation didn't, word had gotten around.

By the time he hung up the phone, they were pulling into a condominium complex with rows of townhouses, each two stories with a brick front and a small porch. They passed a clubhouse and a pool before parking, and he got out and came around to her door as she was opening it. He took the sweet potato casserole from her hands and leaned in to kiss her before intertwining their fingers and heading off towards a townhouse.

She didn't move from the car, and he turned around when he couldn't go any farther without letting go of her. Looking at her for a second, he smiled and walked the two small steps back to her, then set the sweet potato casserole on top of the car and held both of her hands. "Are you nervous about meeting my mom?" he asked with a teasing grin.

She shook her head slowly back and forth before talking. "I've already met her."

He looked at her strangely, smiling like she might have had a screw loose. "You have, huh?" She nodded. "When?"

She looked down at their joined hands and spoke quietly. "Eleven days after you were shot, when I snuck into the hospital to check on you."

His eyes showed confusion and he shook his head. "You didn't visit me in the hospital."

She looked back up at him. "I did; you were asleep. I told your mother my name was…" She closed her eyes for a second and shook her head. "I don't remember. And that we used to work together and I was there visiting a friend who had a baby and that I just wanted to check on you."

"And she let you?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she whispered. "I watched you for a minute from the doorway."

He nodded slightly but she could tell that he was a bit taken aback, and she waited for him to make sense of whatever was going through his head. He didn't say anything for several seconds and she was starting to worry that he was angry, but then he brought one hand to cup her cheek and leaned in and kissed her forehead before pulling her into a hug and holding her tightly. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that," he said in a soft, husky voice.

She buried her head in his neck and remembered his pale body, IV's in his arm and machines beeping in the background. She'd wanted so badly to go up to him and lay her head on his chest, listen to his heart beat. "The news kept reporting your progress, but I wasn't… I couldn't... figure out how to believe them. I had to see you."

"I looked horrible. That probably scared you more."

She shook her head and mumbled into his neck. "You were the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen."

He brought one hand up, running it soothingly through her hair, and continued holding her. "You know," he said in a light voice a minute later. "Guys don't really like to be called beautiful."

She chuckled and pulled her head up to look at him, hoping he didn't see the tears pooled in her eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Guys are hot or handsome, not really beautiful," he said with a smirk.

She raised her eyebrows, but it was all for show. She loved this about him; that he could take something hard and make it easier on her. "You didn't really look hot or handsome," she said with a sly smile of her own.

"But I looked beautiful?" he asked skeptically.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Fine," he said in an exasperated voice. "I'll take it. But just this once."

She leaned in and kissed him. "So noted."

"This is why you've been nervous today?"

"What if she recognizes me?"

He shrugged. "Then she'll out you as the fraud you are."

"Josh!" she said, hitting him lightly on the arm.

"And she'll probably demand that I end things with you," he said, picking up the casserole and linking their fingers together before walking towards the townhouses.

"You're not funny."

"I am actually." She pouted at him and he laughed at her. "Donna, do you really think she's going to be mad that you wanted to make sure I was ok?"

"I lied to her."

"So did I. I was sixteen and snuck out of the house to make out with Barbara Wolff."

"Yet another in the long list of women I hate," she said as they walked up a few steps to a porch.

He knocked on the door and pulled her in close to him. "Thank you for visiting me in the hospital," he said quietly into her ear.

She looked at him and smiled softly. "You're welcome," she whispered.

When Josh's mom opened the door a few seconds later, she took one look at Donna and her eyes widened. Josh chuckled and Donna shot him a quick look before looking back at his mother and blurting out, "When Josh was sixteen, he snuck out of the house to make out with Barbara Wolff."

"Donna!"

"I know," his mother said with a knowing smirk towards him. "He left footprints in the flower bed under his window."