Josh by Dana Archer

Author:Dana Archer [Archer, Dana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-946672-37-7
Publisher: Nancy Corrigan

Chapter 18

Josh paced the length of his house. His restless path took him from the kitchen to the living room. A few lonely, gut-wrenching hours had gone by since he’d last seen Mira, held her soft body against his, and given her pleasure. He ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth. The memory of their liaison played over and over in his mind.

He forced himself to stop pacing and stared at his reflected image in the glass above the hall table. With splayed fingers, he traced the four slashes that extended from above his ear to his chin. Because Mira had licked the deep gashes, only white lines remained.

At the moment, the shadow of his beard camouflaged most of the claw marks, but the stubble didn’t diminish the response touching the marks elicited within him. Tingles ignited at the base of his spine and spread outward. If he closed his eyes, he could feel each swipe of her roughened tongue as she’d healed the cuts.

He groaned and dropped his balled fist. Deep breaths and sheer will zapped the horny state thinking about Mira had caused.

He resumed his restless pacing. Ever since she’d left him last night, he’d been agitated. Besides his skin itching and muscles twitching, his bones ached. A sharp pain in his chest stopped his strides. Cursing, he pressed a balled fist against his rib cage.

Although he felt as if he’d aged twenty years in the past few days, he was too young for a heart attack. At least he hoped. Anxiety attack? Nah, the label didn’t exactly fit. Zoe had those from time to time, usually before she grabbed her bag and took off. Whatever caused the pain stealing his breath, the sensation sucked.

Shallow breaths eased the tingling in his limbs. He dropped his hands and continued prowling his house. At the hall mirror, he stopped once more to study his likeness. Something about it bothered him.

The clock ticked, and he stared at himself hoping to pinpoint the difference. Finally, he realized there wasn’t anything different. That was the problem. He looked exactly the same as he had last night and the night before that. The stubble on his cheek, the point where the roughness turned to softness, dusted his jawline and chin.

He ran his palm over it and chuckled. It felt exactly how Mira liked it. She’d commented on her preference so often he made a point of letting himself look a little unkempt for her. But still… He could’ve sworn he’d shaved before going to bed. His hair didn’t grow that fast.

The front door opened, pulling him out of his thoughts. No knock. Devin walked in as if he lived here, too. The shifter wore denim bibs, one strap unbuckled, and a white T-shirt. In one hand, he held a bunch of plastic bags from the local hardware store. A soggy, paper-wrapped hoagie in a bag from the town’s only deli shop dangled from the other.

Josh studied the outfit, focused on the price tag still hanging from the leather tool belt Devin had slung over his hips, and shook his head.

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