Joy tries to peel herself away, quick like a Band-Aid, and he says, “Wait. No,” eyes intense and on hers. “It’s okay.”

Fox takes her hands, kissing her palms and each of her fingers, and when he finishes, he presses them to his chest. Thoughts unmuddied, she realizes it’s firmer than she’d thought it’d be—the give of pliable skin and hard muscle underneath. And he’s still so warm, truly like a furnace. He runs his hands from her fingertips to her wrists, touch so light it feels positively silky, like freshly shaved legs on clean bedsheets. He keeps his gaze down. That line between his brows appears.

Joy wants to ask him what he’s thinking but something tells her it’s a sixty-five percent moment. If he wants to tell her, it’ll be when he’s ready and she’ll wait because he’s wonderful. There are worse people in the world to kiss and Fox Brilliant-Grump-Extraordinaire Monahan is nowhere near that list.

“Do you want to go up?”

Fox looks at her face. “Up?”

“Stairs,” Joy says. “To my room.”

Twenty-Two

Whenever Joy talked about sex with Grace, her sister focused on emotions and connections and selfish partners not worth her time. With Malcolm, he talked about the act itself, focusing on the physical sensations and the learning curve for how to be a good partner.

Both of those conversations merged in Joy’s mind.

Fox holds her by the neck, bringing her face to his. Joy curves her entire body around him—she’s on his lap, hands in his hair, legs wrapped around his hips. He’s touching her back now, warm hand sliding under her shirt and splaying flat against her skin. But that’s all. He doesn’t move anywhere else. He doesn’t try anything else. He just kisses her and kisses her and kisses her while her hands are all over him. And oh god, he gets it. Fox understands and it’s not unfair or selfish. It just is and he understands exactly what she needs. When she can firmly feel his erection, she stops, pulling back and trying to catch her breath.

“Is something wrong?” He’s equally out of breath and blinking in confusion as she slides off his lap.

“No.” She kisses him once, twice, and then moves to the head of the bed, holding out her arms for him. “Let’s take a break.”

Fox sits next to her, and she curls around him again, unable to stay away. He’s so warm and strong, and breathing him in makes her feel so calm.

“Was it too much?” he asks carefully.

“No.” She laughs into the crook of his neck. “Not even close.”