His grip on her hair tightened and he hissed through his teeth. “Clara.” Her name came out more breath than word. Josh took a step back, his eyes tortured, frantic, as he pulled her to her feet so her back rested flush against his front.

“I’ve wanted you for months,” he said against the shell of her ear. “I’m done waiting.” Josh traced his hand along her rib cage and hip before moving between her legs, inserting two and then three fingers while his other hand held her in place at her waist.

She gasped, clenching around him, breathless at the promise of being filled. All the oxygen in the room evaporated. Clara had to work twice as hard for every breath. Blood pounded in her ears so loud she worried it was affecting her vision. Every atom in her body demanded more. “Condom?”

He untangled himself from her long enough to pull out a foil packet from a bedside drawer and roll it on.

She lay back down, feeling languid and wired at the same time.

“Are you sure about this?” He returned to the bed to pour his body over hers.

The adoration in his eyes, both vulnerable and possessive, made her heart clench. In answer, Clara wrapped her legs around his waist.

The muscles working in Josh’s throat highlighted his elevated pulse point as he positioned his hips. Clara sucked in air like someone had outlawed it as he entered her. The stretch of him was deep enough that she could almost feel it in her teeth. She had to breathe through her nose for a few seconds. Each time he exhaled the tiny movement felt like pressing her tongue against a live wire.

Josh kissed her temple. “Are you all right?” His voice shook as he held his body still.

“Yes.” Clara gasped his name, using the word please as punctuation. Josh tortured her with pleasure until she dug her heels into his back.

He brought his hand down to where their bodies joined, applying steady pressure like an art form as he began to thrust. The wet slap as his hips met her ass echoed in her ears.

Her peak was so close, so close, so . . . “Oh God. I’m gonna . . .”

“Yeah?”

Her pussy tightened around him as she whimpered.

Josh pulled her closer with two hands on her ass and buried himself inside her, holding the heavenly position. Every cell in her body burst apart and fused back together.

When she reentered reality, Josh’s pupils were dark as pitch and his forearms strained where he supported himself above her.

He was trembling, she realized, watching her face.

“Josh?”

“Give me a second,” he said between his teeth.

True to form, she didn’t listen. She trailed her fingernails over the damp skin of his bare back, hard enough to leave marks.

Josh flipped them so that she was the one on top with so much grace her jaw dropped. The change in position seemed to release any reservations he’d maintained because he brought his hands to her hips and ground her body down on his with vigorous intent. She recognized that figure eight. The new angle made her see stars. He was touching parts of her she hadn’t even known existed.

The intensity with which Josh thrust into her made her wild. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t fucking stand it.”

Clara reached up and cupped her breasts, taking her nipples between her fingers and mimicking his earlier ministrations. Josh’s eyes raked a path from her face down to her breasts to where their bodies came together. Until finally, he groaned, jerking his hips for a handful of final snaps.

Clara smiled, catlike, against his shoulder. He brought his hands to her back, tracing soothing circles across her shoulders until she sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

He reached up to brush her cheek, letting his hand linger along the side of her jaw. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment we met.”

“You said you thought I was a cat burglar.” Neither of them could quite catch their breath.

“Yeah.” Josh ran his hand down her spine. “I was gonna let you burgle me.” Bringing his palms to her waist, he carefully detangled their slippery limbs.

As she lay on her back next to him, Clara pointed and flexed her toes under the covers, testing to make sure this body still belonged to her.

“Are you hungry?” Josh sat up and playfully sank his teeth into the skin where her neck met her shoulder. “Because I’m starving.”

God, he’s hot. So hot part of her wanted to pause and take a picture so that someday when she was old and gray she could remind herself that she’d once gone all the way with such a veritable smokestack.

Somehow she’d earned this oasis with a man who made her feel divine. If only she could keep him. “I could eat.”

“Great. I know just the place.” He grabbed his pants off the carpet.

“But it’s almost three. Nothing’s open.”

He walked to her closet and tossed her a T-shirt and her overalls. “Oh ye of little faith.”

Clara caught the clothes and smiled, remembering his affinity for the outfit. “I have to be up for work in a few hours. Toni’s got a big fund-raising event and it’s all hands on deck.”

Josh’s hands stilled on his waistband. “Right. Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

The soda-can feeling returned. Bubbles of joy bloomed from her toes to the tips of her fingers. Tonight didn’t have to end. Not if she didn’t let it. “Let’s go.”

Someone else could worry about her future. About repercussions. About pain.

Clara had plans.

She loved this messy, sun-drenched life she’d stumbled upon. Suddenly words like destiny and fate didn’t sound so silly. Other people did things like this every day. Slept with a beautiful man, knew he didn’t owe her anything.

Josh wasn’t the man of her dreams.

He was something better, something more than she’d ever allowed herself to imagine.

What if L.A. wasn’t a mistake?

She had a cozy home. A good job. A rewarding, if surprising, passion project.

Hell, she was even making progress with Naomi.

Josh Conners and Clara Wheaton didn’t make sense on paper, but what if somehow, impossibly, two wrongs made a right? At least under the covers.

He dusted a kiss across her temple. “I think you might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Clara’s heart squeezed like a fist. The moment was too good. Too much. He doesn’t mean it. Not like it sounds.

Shit. She pulled on her clothes and toed on her sneakers. Had anyone ever managed to fall into bed with a pleasure professional without losing their heart?

Chapter twenty-eight

JOSH ALWAYS WALKED out of Miss Dee Vine’s Corner Café with a full belly and glitter stuck to the soles of his shoes. About an hour postcoital, a celebrated drag queen greeted him and Clara with smacking kisses to both of their cheeks. Miss Dee led them to a table tucked in the back and winked.

“Order whatever your heart desires,” she said as she handed them menus and a can of crayons, and then, in a conspiratorial whisper, “but we’ve got the best waffles in the Gayborhood.”

Clara ran her palms across the brown wax paper covering the table. Josh tried not to openly stare at her. In the dim fluorescent lights, she looked like everything he’d ever wanted. Every toy that was too expensive at Christmastime. Every sports car he’d ever salivated over. Every ounce of approval he’d never earned.

He sat on his hands to avoid reaching out and caressing her face. The very impulse made him wonder if he’d gone off the deep end. Words left him. Usually having sex with someone made him feel more comfortable around them. He’d successfully used intercourse as an icebreaker in awkward or unfamiliar social situations on more than one occasion.

Somehow tonight he’d walked through a doorway to an alternate reality. Only in another dimension would Clara have let him hold her and kiss her and touch her without a list of reasons on hand to justify the intimacy. His molecules had rearranged to give him this shot at loving her. His seven years must be up.

After a server took their order, Josh focused on making eye contact with the shiny buttons of Clara’s overalls. Oh shit. What if she thought he was staring at her tits? And now, of course, his eyes had strayed to her tits and yep, they were still amazing.

Clara reached across the table and patted his forearm. “Everything okay?”

“What? Me? Sure.” That sounded too casual. He didn’t want her to think tonight didn’t matter to him. That he considered all sex the same. Josh covered her hand with his own. “I mean, I’m good. Really good. I’m happy.” Happy was too generic. Happy was commoditized. He needed a better adjective. One that spoke of transformation. The elation of reaching a summit. Damn, he was in trouble.

Clara sat back against her chair and narrowed her eyes. “You’re totally freaking out.”

“No.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts.

“Are you freaking out because you think I’m going to freak out?”

“Now I am.”

“Well, don’t. I promise I’m really happy too.” But he could see something sad in her eyes. Clara rearranged the condiments on the table so that the Heinz bottle stood front and center. “Now, please tell me the ketchup story.”

“No. It’s embarrassing.” Josh dropped his face into his hands.