Boxer

This is stupid. I’ve never seen underwear so stupid.

I can’t believe they’re paying me a stupid sum of money just to wear these and smile for the camera. If it weren’t for Jocelyn, I’d probably tell them where to shove their underwear and get on a plane back home—forget about the money.

But I won’t do that because I’m too excited to see her tonight. All night. Every inch of her. It might’ve been my idea to wait for New York, to hold off until we could be alone and uninterrupted, and until we’d gotten to know each other before jumping into bed.

Except now, at the end of eight torturous weeks, I’m feeling pretty stupid for that being my idea.

This is going to be the most awkward photoshoot ever if I don’t stay focused. Two months of making out with Jocelyn Jones and not having much in the way of closure would be enough to drive most men insane. Add on the daydreams that’ve been plaguing my mind, and I’m in trouble.

The makeup lady knocks on the door, and I throw on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. “Come in,” I tell her.

As she sits me down and begins work on my face, I’m left with nothing to do but think. I can’t think about tonight, however, for reasons already stated. If I daydream too much, I’ll be poking the crew in the face.

But my mind won’t stay away from her, and I realize that maybe the two month wait was worth it. In the long run, it’s a blip on the spectrum of life. A mere breath in the passing of time.

The woman drives me crazy, and she doesn’t even realize it. I act irrational around her, break all my rules, forget all the promises I made to myself when Lauren left us years ago.

Charli. She’s the reason for the two month fast. The delayed gratification. Going into tonight, I have no doubts. It’s not only right, it’s necessary. Whatever comes afterward, so be it. I need Jocelyn in every way, and I can only hope she needs me back. Needs us in her life. My greatest hope and greatest fear, all mixed into one.

“There you are,” Jocelyn says, pushing the door open. “How are you feeling?”

“Go away,” I tell her. “Please.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Sorry?”

“Just a second. I’ll be right there.”

She closes the door without another word.

I feel bad sending Jocelyn away, especially since we didn’t fly out here together, so this is our first meeting in New York. I flew with Charli up to San Francisco where my parents were tickled pink to watch her over the weekend—my mother’s words, not mine. Steve had initially planned on it, but something for work had come up, so I’d made the flight out here from SFO while Joss had jumped on a plane from LAX.

Now, I’d sent her off without a proper hello. But really, it was for safety reasons. I last saw her at Six Flags a week ago, and that damn kiss is still imprinted on my mind—the second she walks into the room, the memories are sure to come flooding back.

I rush the makeup artist through whatever she’s doing with her brush. When she finally declares me all done and tucks her brushes into her belt, I breathe a sigh of relief and pull the door open.

“There you are.” I find Joss standing outside, examining her nails while pretending to not be annoyed. “Come inside.”

“Hello to you too,” she says with a crispness to her words as she enters the room. “Quite busy, I see?”

“Joss.” I let my hands trail through her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

I examine the back of her in the mirror, the curve of her hips in tight black pants, the bright blue tank top that brings out her eyes, the little jacket that doesn’t quite reach her waist. She’s stunning.

“I couldn’t let you in here,” I say with a small smile. “Because I knew this would happen.”

“What?”

I lean in for a kiss, grasping her arms in my hands. There’s a buzz of excitement in the air, the tension thick as butter. She’s surprised, I can feel it in the stiffness of her limbs, just like I sense the second she relaxes and urges her body toward mine.

“Oh, my God,” she giggles, feeling the weight of me press against her. “We can’t have this happening during the photoshoot.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I tell her. “I just wanted to give you a proper hello.”

She grins back. “Well, I missed you, too.”

“This week has been excruciating.”

Because we’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, the next seconds seem important, essential. Underneath the rampant desire electrifying the room, there’s a note of nervousness in the air.

These past few months we’d been running on excitement, on intensity so strong it raced through us like kindling. We’d kept ourselves safe, protected from rushing into things too quickly by setting up shields and precautions. Now, we’d run out of excuses. If we were going to continue this song and dance, we were going to finish it, once and for all.

I inch toward her for another kiss, but she gives the slightest shake of her head.

“The others,” she murmurs. “The staff.”

“Private dressing room. We’re alone.”

“God, then yes.”

I inhale her words, clipping the end of her response. Her hands slide behind my back, her fingers cool against my skin. Goose bumps prickle my body in anticipation.

She tastes like buttercream cupcakes, all bright and delectable. A treat to be savored, and savor I do. Long, slow kisses until I can’t handle the wait any longer.

“How do you look so beautiful after traveling all day?” I lift her onto the dressing table, her arms still swung around my neck. She opens to let me stand between her legs and nuzzle in against the soft skin of her neck. “This weekend took too long; I need you so badly.”

“I need you too.”

I’m treated to a view of her back in the mirror, and the only thing wrong with it is her clothes. There are too many of them. Hair swishes in golden lines, her figure outlined like the silhouette of an hourglass as I gently remove the leather jacket.

Bare flashes of skin from her shoulders appear, and I brush my fingers there, closing my eyes at the shot of lust it sends spinning through my veins. She points her chin upward, eyes closed, and initiates a hungry kiss.

She parts her lips, teasing me with a taste. Her legs rise to wrap around my waist and her arms tug me toward her until I’m forced to rest an arm on the mirror so as not to bowl us both over.

She pauses, her hands trickling down my sides. “Your body is out of this world.”

The tips of her fingers against my bare skin make me flinch. Apparently, I have a sensitive rib cage.

“Am I tickling you?” A grin breaks onto her face, and she moves her fingers faster, toying with me, until it’s too much. Her eyes light up with the question, and it’s adorable.

Adorable, never a word I thought I’d use to describe Jocelyn Jones. When she looks at me through those gorgeous eyelashes, the light blue underneath so bright, I can’t help but want to tuck her into a special place in my heart and keep her, protect her, for all of infinity.

Instead, I tease her back, nipping at her neck, behind her ear, until she squirms closer against me, her shoulders shaking with laughter. I’m pleased to realize her pants are made of some flimsy material, leggings almost, and my hands have full access to her figure.

“Are you sure you want to do this shoot?” she murmurs against my neck, once the teasing subsides and the threat of more hovers over us. “We could go back to the hotel. I mean, underwear is overrated, right?”

She reaches down to toy with the band around my waist, but on the way her knuckles brush against my stomach, and I stiffen. If I needed her before, I was wrong.

The feel of her hands against me is enough to bring out animal instincts that’ve been dormant for ages. This time, when I pull her close, it’s no longer a gentle exploration.

“Screw underwear,” I tell her. “Let’s go to the hotel.”

“But—”

Her argument is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“One minute,” I growl to the intruder, sounding almost murderous. I take the ensuing silence to hold Jocelyn’s chin in my hand and tilt it toward me. “Don’t think this conversation is over.”

The moment is broken by a second knock, and I reluctantly let her go. She straightens herself out, pulls the door open and slips outside. Jocelyn makes a disgruntled noise of surprise, and I poke my head out a second later.

“Andy?” I frown at the man standing there. “What are you doing here?”