RATING: NC-17. ***Please read responsibly.

SUMMARY: Josh and Donna relieve some of that tension.

DISCLAIMER: I don't think Aaron would like what I'm doing to his characters here, but I'm pretty sure they enjoyed themselves. :)

Thanks to Jo, and also to Emily.

***

Sometimes I wish Josh were married.

Or old.

Or gay.

Or a woman.

Preferably an old, married lesbian.

Anything other than the relatively young, single, magnetic heterosexual I have to work with every day. I mean, isn't it too much to ask of a hot-blooded American female? Seventeen hours a day of Joshua Lyman strutting around exuding this irresistible charm and I'm not supposed to have erotic dreams about him? How realistic is that?

And the worst part is, he doesn't seem to even notice I'm a woman.

I am not egotistical. Nor am I one of those women who considers herself hopelessly ugly or thin or fat or, you know, disproportional. I'm attractive. I'm not Gwyneth Paltrow, but I'm attractive. My self-confidence took a beating, it's true, during my ill-fated and one-sided relationship with Dr. Free Ride, but I've since recovered. Despite Josh's assertions to the contrary, I have no overweaning desire to be coupled.

My desire to be coupled with Josh, well... Let's just say *that* desire could be accurately described as "fervent."

But I am also a strong woman. And so I go to work every day and play my role--Josh's helpmate. Usually that's enough. The man truly is brilliant, and I delight in our ongoing battle of wits. I know he likes it too, this verbal foreplay we've got going on, even if he doesn't quite recognize it for what it is.

The thing is--if Josh were truly interested in me, he'd have done something about it before now. His ego is... Well, there isn't an adjective I could employ that would describe Josh's ego. Suffice it to say, self-confidence is something he possesses in abundance.

So if he wanted me, we'd already have had the mind-blowing sex I just know we're capable of; this is not an encouraging thought. Hence, the days when I can't help but be incredibly grumpy.

Sexual frustration is a bitch.

Today, for example, is not a good day. Last night, I had the most amazing dream featuring Joshua Lyman, a shower, and a pretty damn impressive orgasm. But I'm supposed to work on the slaughterhouse bill with him all day like I didn't dream about him--

I am not compartmentalizing well today.

Dreams are dreams. They are not reality. I understand this; I really do. Most days, I can wake up, recall the dream with a fond, satisfied smile, and let it wash down the drain with the soap bubbles in the shower. But Josh's performance last night--my imagination's version of Josh, of course--was just incredible.

And I'm having a hard time remembering that I can't just reach out and grab--

"Donna, you wanna share with the class?"

I jerk my head up to find the object of my musings staring at me with that familiar smirk. He's at his desk, leaning back, feet propped up, and thumbing through the report on slaughterhouse standards.

The subject matter couldn't be any less erotic, and I'm sitting here flushed.

"Donna?" he repeats, his grin widening.

"Yeah?" I rasp, my voice a little lower than normal. I clear my throat quickly.

"You kinda zoned out there. Everything okay?"

It would be if--

I am not going to go there.

"Yes," I answer. And to my amazement, I sound almost normal.

He quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't challenge me. "'Kay. I'm hungry; you want anything?"

I manage to give him an amused look. "Reading a report on the disgusting conditions in slaughterhouses makes you *hungry*?" I ask dryly.

Josh tosses the report onto his desk and shrugs carelessly. "I'm quirky."

"Repulsive," I offer. Would that it were true. Maybe I wouldn't keep having the dreams.

"I'll have you know many, many women find me quite charming," Josh scoffs as he swings his feet off of his desk. "Have dinner with me."

I blink stupidly. "What?"

"Food," Josh says, raising his eyebrows. "You. Me. A restaurant."

"I can't," I blurt.

Josh gives me a strange look. "Why not?"

"I have plans," I explain, busying myself with the files in my lap. I'll just go ahead and alphabetize these so I don't have to look at--

"You have a date?" Josh asks in this faux-neutral tone. The same tone he uses whenever he's about to toss some rude comment about my taste in men at me and expect me to laugh it off.

I pin him with a glare. "I have plans," I repeat, my tone flat. "And, frankly, what I do outside the office is none of your business."

Josh stares at me. "What you do, maybe," he answers. "But who you--"

"Joshua," I interrupt angrily. "Just stop right there unless you want to find yourself without an assistant. And possibly a vital body part."

Josh's mouth is hanging open, and it takes him a minute to respond. "I was going to say 'date.' Donna, I didn't mean--"

"You really did," I answer, tiredly. I don't want to do this right now. The last thing I want to do is fight with Josh. "You always mean that. I have plans. I'm leaving now. If you need me to be in tomorrow, call me in the morning."

"On your cell?" he mutters darkly.

I am halfway out the door, but I freeze as his implication strikes.

Slowly, I turn to face him, my eyes wide. "Excuse me?" He can't possibly mean what I think he means.

"In case you're not at home," he says. He's looking at the chalkboard behind me, and I can't read his expression. "I should call your cellphone."

"In case I'm not at home," I repeat softly. I don't know how he does it, but Josh manages to find the perfectly wrong thing to say sometimes. And what makes it worse is that he has no idea how much his words can hurt me.

"Yes."

"In case I find some gomer to fuck, is your meaning." I've sworn in front of Josh before, but usually in anger. This time, I'm just so sick of it; sick of the way he thinks of me. My words are angry, but my tone is... devoid of emotion.

"Donna." He holds up a placating hand. "Wait a second. You're overreacting."

I take two steps into the office and push the door shut behind me. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe it's inappropriate for you to say these things?" I'm trying to stay calm, I really am. But just how much of this am I supposed to take?

How come he gets to take potshots at my love life, but I'm not allowed to speak ill of Mandy or Sarah or Joey? Or bring up the fact that he hasn't even looked at a women with a modicum of interest since before the shooting? I wouldn't make cracks about that, of course, but I have noticed. And I do worry.

Josh merely worries that I'll sell state secrets to some Republican aide for a good roll in the hay. How can he think that lowly of me?

Josh stands and circles the edge of his desk. "All I asked was if I should call your cellphone. That's it."

"Your implication," I say, my jaw clenched, "being that I'd--"

"Seriously," Josh reaches out, his hand settling on my upper arm. "I'm not implying anything. I worry about you."

"I'm not your little sister, Josh," I point out, shaking my head.

"I know that," he mutters, dropping his gaze.

I narrow my eyes, puzzled by his tone of voice; it's not a part of the usual Josh Repertoire. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Josh lets go of me and backs up a step. "Look, this isn't the best time for this. Maybe we should--"

"Forget it, Josh," I say, reaching for the door. "I have plans."

Before I can open the door, Josh is beside me. And then his hands are on my shoulders, pushing me back against the door, and he's kissing me.

Joshua Lyman is kissing me. And it is incredible.

I should stop this. I should ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing. I should really just do that foot sweep thing they taught me at my Tae Kwan Do class, get him on the floor, and have my way with him.

I really want to do that last one, but I can't seem to concentrate on anything but his mouth on mine, and his hands on me.

My own hands are splayed on his back, pulling his body to me, and I'm on tiptoe, trying to get as close to him as possible. His mouth is amazing. Talented.

This is not an introductory kiss; this is sexual. One of his hands is tangled in my hair, tilting my face up to him. The other is roaming my back in the most arousing way. This is heat and anger and attraction and... wrong.

I can't do this to prove a point. Not with Josh.

With a ragged groan, I manage to unclench my hands, slide them around to his muscled chest, and push him away. God, I don't want to push him away.

We stand there, flushed and out of breath, and stare at each other.

"What the hell was that?" I meant for that to come out strong, but instead I sound like a woman who's been thoroughly kissed. My voice is shaky and very breathy, and I may need to sit down, because that kiss was just...

Josh looks dazed. I can see a smudge of my lipstick at the corner of his mouth and feel something inside me clench in anticipation. I want to lick it off.

"Donna, I..." he shrugs, and he's giving me that look he gets when he wants me to fix things. Usually, that means he's pissed off a Congressperson, or possibly the religious right. I'm not quite sure what to do when he's sending it my way because he just had his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my ass.

I watch him for another long moment, and it takes every last shred of self-control I possess not to toss him onto his desk and have my way with him. Also to remain standing. Any doubts I harbored about our sexual chemistry have been vanquished.

But sexual chemistry isn't enough, and I don't like this situation. It's wrong. He has to want *me*. It can't be because he doesn't want me to do this with someone else. I don't think he even understands that the reason he says those things to me is that he's jealous.

I should clarify--I have no idea if his jealousy is because he wants me specifically, or if it's some alpha-male bullshit. I have a feeling it's the latter, and until he can figure out why he's jealous, I can't do this.

Whatever it is that Josh and I have--it's too important.

Josh, please, tell me you want me.

Josh just stares at me and shakes his head slowly. "I don't know, Donna."

I laugh, but it's a bitter sound. He doesn't know. That is just so perfect--all of my doubts are gone, and Josh doesn't know. After that mind-blowing kiss, he's confused.

We should talk about this, Josh and me. We should have an adult, rational discussion about this thing between us, straighten it all out before there are hurt feelings and regrets. I should tell him that I think about him. I should ask him if he thinks about me.

But I can't do this right now. I'm so incredibly turned on that I don't believe I'm capable of rational thought processes.

"I don't, either, Josh," I answer. I hesitate a moment longer, but he's still just staring at me. "I've got plans."

I open the door and glance back at him, all but begging him to call me back. I can't do this alone, Josh. You have to want it too.

He doesn't get the message. Either that or he ignores it, because Josh just stands there in his doorway and watches me leave.

***

I'm still shaking when I reach the bathroom. From arousal. From anger. Possibly some mixture of both.

All I know is, my mind is in turnaround. Does that mean he's starting to realize he wants me, or has he just made the mistake that will ruin our relationship forever? Should I go back and talk to him, or leave and hope he calls me in the morning? Do I act like nothing happened, or do I show up on his doorstep and demand that we try that again--No, demand that we discuss this?

I can't lead Josh into this--whatever this is. Sure, he initiated that stellar kiss... God, I'm hot just thinking about it. My entire body is still buzzing with arousal.

Josh initiated the kiss, but that was just Josh being Josh. I was pissed at him. He's a politician, and he just, you know, redirected my anger. What a way to change the subject. I could kill him.

Or jump him. That's definitely another option.

No, I'm--

"Donna?"

I glance over my shoulder and Bonnie's standing there, a curious look on her face.

"Hey, girl," I say, rubbing one hand over my face. "Just give me a minute to change and I'll be ready." I'm staring at my reflection to avoid meeting her gaze.

"You okay?" she asks, dropping her bag onto the countertop and digging for some makeup.

"Yeah," I lie, staring at her mirrored self blankly. "I'm fine."

She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't comment further. "Okay."

I finally notice her pants--they're tight, black leather--and my eyes widen. "Wow."

Bonnie glances down and blushes. "Yeah, I know. But I've always wanted a pair."

"No," I say, turning to face her. "Those are totally hot." I'm starting to feel a little less flustered, now that I have something else to focus on. "And the shirt. Love the sparklies."

Bonnie's shirt is opaque and shimmery, affording glimpses of her black bra underneath. "Thanks."

I glance down at my bag, which I'd managed to remember while storming past my desk. I am incredibly unimpressed by the clothes I brought, but it's too late now.

Ginger pokes her head into the bathroom. "Where's this place again?"

"Adam's Morgan." Bonnie waves her in. "Show us the outfit!"

Ginger grins and walks towards us in the exaggerated swagger of a runway model. She's wearing a light blue, clingy sundress, which really sets off her hair. "You like?" she asks, twirling around and striking a pose.

I push all lingering thoughts of Josh out of my mind (even while my body continues to urge me to drag him into the nearest room with a working lock) and laugh at Ginger's antics. "You are an insane person."

"Yeah," she shrugs, "but I look hot."

Bonnie winks at Ginger, then they both turn to me. "What's in the bag, Donna?"

I sigh. "A really lame outfit." See? I can do this. I am not obsessing over that kiss. I am going to go out with my friends, shake my groove thing, and maybe even find myself a hot young grad student to take home--Oh, who am I kidding?

I want to take Josh home.

But since that's not going to happen...

I pull out my clothes and change quickly. Then I give myself a critical once-over in the mirror. Tight, black, scoop-neck top that doesn't quite reach my navel, and a fairly plain black skirt. But it's a short skirt. It only reaches about halfway to my knees, leaving a lot of leg bare. I slip my feet into big, clunky sandals--thank God I remembered to paint my toenails; they're electric blue--and turn to face Bonnie and Ginger.

"Well?"

Ginger grins as she takes in my ensemble. "Very nice!"

Bonnie tilts her head sideways. "Damn, you need a tan."

"Shut up," I protest, laughing. I do look incredibly pale with all this black on, but it works. Josh likes my alabaster skin.

The three of us do a quick make up check, then grab our bags and head out. It feels wrong--decadent--to be wearing this in the White House, even for the scant amount of time it takes us to reach the doors. I'm incredibly self-conscious, which is probably why I'm glancing around like a kid stealing a candy bar. And then I see Josh.

He's standing at the end of the hall, and it looks like he stopped midstride. His eyes are wide as he stares at us.

Stares at me.

I'm tired of being Sexually-Frustrated Girl. I'm tired of watching Josh flip through a folder and wondering what else he could be doing with those hands. I'm tired of waking up alone and having my first thoughts be of him.

If that kiss is any indication, Josh may just be getting a clue about this thing between us. Maybe he'll see me as more than the woman who runs his office. Maybe catching a glimpse of me as an undeniably sexual person will, you know, jump start something in that incredibly smart yet astoundingly stupid brain of his.

Maybe seeing me in this outfit will give him a little something to think about, anyway.

I'm not self-conscious anymore. I can feel it--my entire body can feel his hungry eyes on me. My stride lengthens, my hips get into the action, and I hold his gaze as long as I can. Just before I pass out of sight, I raise my hand and waggle my fingers at him.

***

It's nice, sometimes, to be reminded that men find me attractive.

The club scene can be pretty grotesque, of course. Single people liquoring themselves up in the hopes they'll stumble home with The Right Person. Fat chance. I stopped shopping for men at bars years ago.

Take a wild guess where I met Dr. Free Ride.

But the clubs can be fun anyway, if you ignore the undercurrent of desperation. At the very least, I can replace thoughts of Josh with thoughts of the hot club-boys all around me, right?

I wish. First of all, the hot club-boys are all 21; anyone over 25 has that silent neediness seeping from their pores. Second, Josh is pretty much all I can think of, even at the club.

I mean--that kiss? It's been two hours and I'm *still* tingling in all the right places.

Don't get me wrong, and I'm having a good time. It's loud and dark and hot in here, and I'm not the world's best dancer, but I can hold my own. Ginger, Bonnie and I have been on the packed dance floor, grooving to the music since we got here. We pause only to wind our way through the crowd at the bar and refresh ourselves with alcoholic beverages.

It's just that usually, I close my eyes and let the music take over, moving easily. Tonight, I have other things on my mind. I have other things I would rather be doing with my body.

Even when an incredibly cute, well-built man dances up to me, I can't get my mind off of Josh. I'm bumping and grinding with this guy, and I'm remembering how Josh's body felt pressed up against mine. This man leans over and tells me his name, and I can hear Josh calling me "Donnatella." Brett--the dancer--pulls me closer with a hand on my hip, but there's no spark. No tingle like when Josh touches me.

Bonnie and Ginger and giving me encouraging looks behind Brett's back, and I just smile and nod. I can feel Brett's eyes traveling my body, and I just wish it were Josh. Watching me.

Eventually, it's too much.

The man is getting grabby, the smoke is making my eyes sting, and the alcohol is just making me tired.

I excuse myself and dance over to Ginger and Bonnie, yelling my plans in their ears. They're sad to see me to go, but they understand.

Bonnie drove, so I stand outside the club for a couple minutes waiting for a cab. The trip home is relatively quiet, although my ears are still ringing a little from the music.

When I get to my place, I give Winnie a scratch behind the ears. Clover is ignoring me, as always. My roommate--surprise, surprise--is staying at her boyfriend's apartment. I'm pretty sure I'll be looking for a single when our lease comes up for renewal in a couple months.

My body is weary, but my mind is abuzz; I couldn't sleep now if I tried. Besides which, if I crash without washing my hair, my pillow will reek of smoke for days.

The shower, unfortunately, reminds me of my erotic dream about Josh. Not that I ever need much prompting to recall the more pleasant details of my nighttime fantasies. Still, the shower plus the amazing kiss and the look on his face when he watched me leave... It's too much to expect any woman to deal with gracefully.

I jump out of the shower before I can lose myself in fantasyland. I can't control my subconscious, but I'll be damned if I'll bring myself off while thinking about my boss. Who is most assuredly not at home longing for me.

I'm not going to be that woman.

I am, however, reaching unprecedented levels of sexual frustration, some of which I vent on my hair while brushing out the few tangles. I towel off and pad naked into my bedroom. I grab the first things in my drawer, which turn out to be a pair of dark blue panties, grey pajama bottoms that are almost too big for me, and a clingy green tank top.

Yeah, I'm irresistible.

I don't bother with slippers, even though the hardwood floors are chilly. Instead, I jump from area rug to area rug like a child until I reach the kitchen. After inhaling a glass of water, I refill my glass and sip the second glass more slowly.

And then there's a knock at the door.

I freeze.

It can't possibly be Josh. There's no way.

Wishful thinking does not ever work.

Considering my neighborhood, I should probably be in the corner, panicked and dialing 911. Instead, I stand there like an idiot, the water glass halfway to my lips and listen for--

"Donnatella Moss!"

I blink at the door. The man who gave me a heart-stopping kiss several hours ago is right on the other side.

Joshua Lyman is here.

***

Joshua Lyman is here, and the man looks incredibly hot. He's wearing this pair of jeans that are so broken in that they mold to certain, impressive parts of his body. His amazing body. And he's got that thin, dark brown sweater on, the one that just hints at the sculpted arms beneath.

He looks positively delicious.

I, on the other hand, look like an idiot.

As evidenced by the fact that Josh just stands there in the doorway and stares at me. At my chest, actually. I can only imagine what he's thinking about my ill-fitting, mismatched makeshift pajamas. But still, the intensity of his gaze is making me flush.

"What do you want, Josh?" That was supposed to sound tired. Possibly disinterested. Instead, I sounded seductive; seduced.

Which I am not, I should point out. I refuse to admit--I refuse to *believe* that the mere sight of Joshua Lyman in those jeans is enough to get me aroused. Life couldn't possibly be that cruel.

Josh raises his eyes to mine, and I can't help but notice that his pupils are dilated. Must be the lack of light in the entryway--I keep forgetting to change the damn lightbulb.

"I wanted--" He clears his throat and tries again. "I wanted to apologize."

I give him my best skeptical look. "At 12:47 in the morning?"

The corner of his mouth quirks, and he's giving me that half-smirk that makes me want to lick it off. "Seemed as good a time as any."

I am not yet ready to forgive his remarks from earlier. Hell, I haven't even let him in the apartment yet; I'm blocking the opening with my body, my hand still on the doorknob. I shift my weight, thrusting my hip out in what *would* be a sexy position, were my pajama pants not dipping dangerously low. "Surprised to find me at home?" I ask, my tone sharp.

Josh shrugs. "Relieved," he offers.

I snap out of the pose and glare at him. "I can't believe you. Did you honestly think I would--"

"Donnatella," he interrupts. He speaks so softly that I barely hear him, but he's using this silk over gravel tone and I shut up immediately. I've never heard him use that voice before, and it's unbearably sexy. I am practically salivating as he continues. "I'm relieved you're here," he says, taking a step towards me, "because I wasn't sure how much longer I could wait."

Perhaps the lust has finally addled my mind, but now I'm confused. He's relieved because he just couldn't wait to apologize? Does this sound like Josh Lyman behavior?

I shake my head at him. "What are you talking about, Josh? You hate apologizing."

"I do," he grins, stepping closer. "Are you going to let me in?"

I can smell him, he's so close to me. My breathing speeds up, and rather than let him see what he's doing to me, I release the door and turn away. Retreating to the kitchen, I rescue my abandoned water glass and take a long swallow. I'm parched, suddenly.

I put the glass into the sink and turn, startled to find Josh right in front of me. It's strange to be this close to him in my bare feet; I'm usually looking at him straight on, but I've got to tilt my head back tonight.

Josh stares down at me. "That tank top..." He stops and shakes his head, his gaze dropping down my body again. Which is unfortunate, because my nipples are hard. A fact that Josh is unlikely to miss, considering he's staring directly at my breasts.

Josh gets this slow, lopsided smile on his face as he meets my eyes again. I've never seen this look on his face before; I have no idea what's running through that crafty little mind of his.

"What?" I ask. Whisper. His eyes are quite mesmerizing. If I didn't know better, I'd think--

Josh is kissing me.

Holy shit, Josh is kissing me again.

I've been caught in this constant state of arousal since the kiss in his office, and the touch of his lips, the feel of his tongue against mine, it's almost overwhelming. My lower back is pressed up against the edge of the counter, and it would probably be painful if I could spare the energy to pay attention.

But I am far too busy kissing Josh.

I'm not quite sure how it happened, but one of my hands is tangled in his unruly hair, and the other is clutching at the skin of his back, underneath his sweater and his t-shirt. Josh isn't idle, either; my tank top is riding up as his hand smooths over my spine. He's cupping my jaw too, his fingers whispering along my neck.

This is too good.

It's just really too good. I must be asleep. I must be dreaming. Because Josh is crushing me to him, his mouth moving over mine with stunning urgency. And he is already hard.

I let out a completely undignified whimper and press my hips to him, my hand snaking down to his ass to increase the pressure. Josh moans, and his hand slides to the back of my neck, tilting my head for better access.

I'm lightheaded. I swear, I'm not getting enough oxygen to my brain. I should really pull away and take a breath, but damn this man has a talented mouth.

With a ragged groan, Josh releases me. But he doesn't move away, so we are inches apart, staring at each other, his erection pressed low against my belly. It is surreal. I'm half-expecting to be wrenched to consciousness by the insistent buzzing of my alarm clock.

Instead, the sound of Josh's harsh breathing penetrates my lust-induced haze. And then it hits me: he wants me.

Joshua Lyman wants me.

I am amazed. I really am--the dear, daft man finally got a clue.

Suddenly, I'm beaming at him like a complete lunatic. I half-expect him to bolt for the door.

But Josh brings his hands to my face, gently tilting my head so he can press a delicate kiss to my forehead. Then he pulls back and smirks at me. "Told you I didn't want to apologize."

I roll my eyes. "Stubborn idiot. I thought you said you came here to apologize?" I'm amazed at us. I'm amazed that we're standing here, halfway to sex and still arguing as if nothing's changed.

Maybe nothing has, really. We've always had this... *thing*, we just never chose to acknowledge it. Until now.

Josh smooths a hand up my back and I shiver. He grins and leans in to feather small kisses on my neck. My hands clench fistfuls of his sweater, and I'm quite glad the counter's there, because my legs are trembling.

"I said," Josh breathes into my neck, "that I *wanted* to apologize. Past tense."

I manage to snort in an entirely unsexy manner, and Josh chuckles into the delicate skin underneath my jaw. I shift my weight, seeking some pressure to relieve the tension building inside of me. "And now?" I say, more to distract myself than from any real interest in his answer. I mean, it's quite obvious what he wants at this point.

Without warning, Josh's hands sweep down my body, latching around my thighs to lift me onto the counter. My legs part, instinctively wrapping around his hips. I would be embarrassed by the fact that I whimper when I feel his erection brushing against my sex, but Josh makes this incredible little moaning noise of his own. I guess we're even.

After a moment, Josh meets my gaze. "If you don't know what I want right now, then maybe I haven't been explicit enough."

I shiver in his arms. It's ridiculous what this man can do to me with the raise of an eyebrow. But I will not be bested.

"Maybe you haven't," I say, then drop one hand to the cold tile and scoot my body forward, precariously close to the edge. Which, coincidentally, brings our bodies together abruptly. It's Josh's turn to shudder, and I give him a self-satisfied smirk.

It takes Josh a moment to recover, and then his hands are hot on the skin of my lower back, pushing the material of the tank top ever higher. "I haven't what?" he rasps, lapping at my collarbone.

I link my ankles together and lean back to give him room to work his magic. My hands land on his impressive biceps and it's not even an effort to sound breathless when I answer him. "Maybe you haven't been explicit enough."

Josh's tongue veers dangerously close to the edge of my tank top, and I arch my back expectantly. Then he backs off, fixing me with that insufferably sexy smirk. "Well," he says. "I'll have to do my best to remedy the situation then, don't you think?"

Oh, god, I definitely think.

I can't force my voice to cooperate, but Josh seems to understand when I yank his mouth to mine and kiss him for all I'm worth. He responds instantly, grinding his erection into me. My hands find the hem of his sweater and yank clumsily. We separate for a second while he tugs it over his head and tosses it aside, then we're kissing again.

I can reach more skin now, and Josh pulls away a bit, his hands landing on my breasts. I think I may have torn his t-shirt just then trying to pull it roughly up his body; Josh is too busy to help. He's rolling my nipples between his fingers, and it feels so amazing. I'm squirming on the countertop.

For the love of god, we have entirely too many clothes on right now. I tear my mouth away from Josh, panting. He meets my eyes and smiles, then his gaze drops to my breasts. It is unbearably erotic, watching him watch me with that incredibly aroused look on his face.

"First step," he says, and I'm momentarily confused. He's trying to talk to me right now? He has his hands on my breasts and he expects me to be able to converse coherently? I'm relieved when he moves one hand to the bottom of my tank top. "Off," he says succinctly.

I grin at him. "You first," I counter, my fingers still twisted into his damn undershirt. I want him as close to naked as possible. And I want it immediately.

Josh relents, releasing me and removing his shirt. I actually moan at the sight. This man's biceps can reduce me to monosyllables. And his chest... And that flat stomach with the line of hair disappearing into his jeans.

Where do I even start?

Josh lets me look without comment, his hands gravitating to my hips.

I clutch at the muscles in his upper arms and fight an almost overwhelming urge to bite his muscular shoulder. He is hot and smooth and I can't get enough of touching him. I catch Josh's eye and slowly lick my lips. His mouth drops open in the most appealing way, but I'm headed further south.

I want to kiss his scar. I want to thank his body for not giving up.

My eyes sting with tears as I lean forward, pressing a delicate kiss to each end. One hand drops from his arm to caress the mottled entry wound beside the surgical scar and Josh hisses.

I jerk away from him, horrified. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Josh assures me, reaching for my hands and tangling our fingers together. "It's just sensitive."

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Don't be," he answers softly. "Just... don't stop touching me."

It's too much, and I bite back a sob as I throw my arms around his neck and pull him to me. I came so close to losing him.

"Donnatella," Josh says, his arms wrapped securely around my waist. "It's okay. Your hands--you feel amazing."

I place an open-mouthed kiss on the tendon in his neck, and his grip on me tightens convulsively. I smile into his skin. "You feel amazing too, Joshua."

He pulls back, then raises an eyebrow as his fingers tug at my tank top. "Can I?" He sounds like a little kid begging for candy.

I grin at him. "May I," I correct. "And you certainly may." I obediently raise my arms as he peels the fabric from my body.

The look on Josh's face right now is breathtaking. He's practically panting, and my abandoned top is still dangling from his nerveless fingers.

I shift slightly on the counter and he whimpers.

I am grinning like an idiot. "Joshua?"

It takes him a moment to meet my gaze. "You're just..." He shrugs, a dopey grin on his lips. But those dimples are out in full force, and I can't even be annoyed at his inability to verbalize this.

I can, however, make fun of him. "Eloquent," I say. "Sharp tongue, my--"

The rest of my insult is lost as Josh's mouth lands on my breast.

That tongue. Dear god, that tongue.

It's my turn to whimper at the delicious sensations. One large hand is splayed on my bare back, holding me in place. The other drops lower, tracing circles on my hips and clutching me close.

My hands tangle in his hair holding him exactly where he is, gently sucking my nipple into his mouth. He hums, and I nearly jump off the counter at the ripples of pleasure.

Josh smooths his free hand around my hip, caressing the top of my thigh before dipping lower.

"Josh," I manage, my voice nothing but a strangled whisper at this point. I am about two seconds away from begging, my hips straining off the counter seeking his touch when he finally makes contact through the thin material of my pajamas.

He releases my nipple and looks up at me, his lips wet. The sight is so erotic; I just stare at him, breathing hard until his fingers find my clit. My hips jerk up, seeking more contact, and my hand clutches suddenly at his bicep.

Josh watches my face, smiling when my breath catches in my throat. My eyes slide shut; I am overwhelmed, my body straining for release. And his fingers--god, the man has talents that I never suspected. Well, okay, I often found my attention turning to his habit of twirling pens absently in his fingers, but I had no idea he could do *this*. He seems to sense the exact speed, the right pressure, to reduce me to wordless gasps.

Josh's free hand lands on my thigh, pushing my legs further apart as he shifts away from me. I manage to open my eyes when I feel him tugging the waistband of my pajama bottoms down. He's about to drop to his knees on the tile floor, but I catch his elbow in time.

"Wait," I say, shaking my head. His fingers pause their pleasant work.

Josh looks disappointed, which ratchets up my arousal further. "Donna, I want--"

"I want too," I assure him with an enthusiastic nod. "But I don't think your knees can take the linoleum."

Josh stares at me for a moment. "You're worrying about my knees?" he asks, his tone incredulous.

"Yes."

"Now?" He punctuates this with a quick flick of his fingertips against my clit.

"Yes." I don't know if I'm talking about his words or his actions at this point.

"You're worrying about my knees when I'm about to--"

I grab him by the back of the neck and yank him to me, shutting him up in a most pleasing way. I meant it to be a quick kiss, but we're just so damned good at it that we end up pressed up together, skin to skin. It feels amazing, our bodies touching with nothing in between. It feels natural, like we were meant for this.

"Josh," I say, pushing him away reluctantly. "Bedroom."

He raises an eyebrow. "Carpeting?"

"Absolutely," I nod. I'm beaming again.

"Excellent," he answers, with searing heat in those gorgeous, brown eyes.

Then I slip off of the counter, take his hand, and lead him to my bedroom.

***

I glance back at Josh when I'm nearing the bed because, really, this is just too perfect to believe. I keep waiting for my alarm to go off.

Then I meet Josh's eyes and read the desire on his face, and I know this is real.

Josh, who has been following me docile as a lamb, tugs me around to face him. He pulls me in and kisses me, and it's the best kiss yet. It's passion and tenderness; lust and love all mixed together.

Too soon, Josh pulls back and grins at me. He tilts his head towards the bed, then glances down. "Carpet," he notes.

The anticipation in his voice is incredible; I can feel it resonate all through my body. It doesn't hurt, of course, that Josh is sliding his hands down my back as well. When he reaches my hips, he wraps his hands around my waist and walks me back towards the bed.

My legs hit the edge and I am about to collapse gratefully onto the mattress when his grip tightens.

"Donnatella," he says, "you're wearing too many clothes."

Luckily, he's still holding me up, or I'd have ended up in an undignified heap on the bed at the seductive note in his voice. Also the implication of what's going to happen when I get out of my clothes. The thought of Josh touching me, of Josh's talented tongue--I may actually die of anticipation.

But I am determined to keep him as off-balance as I am. So I reach out and cup the impressive bulge in his pants.

Josh's eyes widen and he thrusts his hips forward. I just grin at him. "You too."

"Fair point," he manages, his dimples putting in an appearance. "But since there's carpeting for my knees, I respectfully submit that--"

I can't help it--I start laughing.

"What?" Josh demands, sounding a bit miffed.

"You," I snicker. "Respectfully submitting?"

He gives an appreciative chuckle, then attempts an offended look. The dimples ruin it entirely. "It's a figure of speech--"

"Which you've probably never used before," I interject.

Josh leans in and nips at my neck. I am going to become Sarcasm Girl if *that's* my punishment for cracking wise. My hand tightens on him and he groans.

"Besides," Josh says, pulling away and pinning me with a look that could melt diamonds. "I can be as submissive as you want."

I whimper at the unexpected, erotic image his words conjure.

I actually whimper.

"That's certainly an interesting possibility," I answer throatily. "But tonight--"

"Excellent," Josh interrupts with a smirk.

And then he's on his knees before me, his lips and tongue doing amazing things to my navel. Things that make me very, very desperate to feel his mouth a bit lower. His hands, meanwhile, hook into my pajamas to slide them down my body.

My fingers tangle into his hair to remain upright as he abandons my abdomen. Then, with a mere upturned smirk as warning, Josh pulls at my knees so that I plop gracelessly onto the edge of the bed.

"Joshua!"

"What?" he asks, dimpling at me. I can't seem to stay irritated, especially with the way his fingers are tracing patterns on my thighs. Then he leans up and kisses me soundly on the mouth.

Just as I gather my wits about me enough to kiss him back, he pulls away, his hands landing on my abdomen. I shiver at the contact. He smirks up at me. "You may want to lay back, Donnatella."

I roll my eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that your ego is--Oh, *god*!"

He is there. His mouth--his tongue is on my sex.

Dear god, I need to lay down.

I collapse backwards onto the bed as Josh's amazing, talented, Olympic-worthy tongue finds my clit. If I could concentrate on anything other than what his mouth is doing to me, maybe I could control the utterly wanton noises I'm making. Or the way I'm pressing myself up against him to increase the pressure.

But I honestly don't care enough at this point. As long as he--God!

Josh smooths one hand over my thigh, lifting my leg and draping it over his shoulder to grant him better access. Which he takes immediate advantage of, his tongue circling my clit at just the right speed. He reaches up and tangles his hand with mine, giving me an anchor as my body begins that erotic ascent.

I am about three seconds from the most amazing orgasm of my life when he lifts his head from me. My hips, entirely of their own accord, attempt to follow him.

And the bastard actually laughs.

I manage to lift my head from the bedspread and glare down at him. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

He gives me his best innocent face. "You were saying something about my ego? You know, before I so rudely interrupted you."

"Joshua Lyman, you are an egotistical jackass, you know that?" I say, but I'm laughing. Who knew sex could be this damn fun?

"I'm just saying," Josh breathes into the skin of my inner thigh, one hand brushing through my damp curls. "I interrupted. Please continue."

I try to keep glaring, I really do. But I am just loving this. And I end up laughing at him. My body is begging for release, and he's bringing the banter? Ridiculous, impossible man.

Also quite talented.

"No," I say finally, "why don't *you* continue, and we'll discuss the finer points--God! Josh!"

The infuriating man pulls away *again* after one agonizing stroke of his tongue. "I didn't realize I was worthy of deification, Donnatella."

"You're not," I grumble. With my free hand, I reach down and grab a handful of hair. And then I grin stupidly at him. "In this specific case, it appears your overwhelming ego may possibly be supported by the empirical evidence."

Josh is smiling up at me, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. "It appears?"

"Yes," I say, managing an imperious nod even as his fingers tease my hipbone. Have I mentioned that the pads of his fingers are like live wires? Everywhere he touches me tingles. "I haven't quite made a determination yet."

"Really?" Josh laughs. He is just too much. He knows exactly what he's doing to me, exactly how close I am to losing it, and he's just sitting there taunting me. God, I love this man.

"Really," I answer. "Perhaps further examination of the--Yes!"

I hate to feed his ego, but the man's mouth is amazing. It only takes a few more moments of that amazing tongue on my clit before I am there. I am right there, dangling on the edge of the most intense orgasm of my life. Josh just needs to--right there.

Just a little more pressure and--God!

My hand clenches around his, the other pulling his face harder against me because I am splitting apart.

I am burning up, and it's all his fault.

My next coherent thought is: He is going to pay for that.

***

"Donnatella?" Josh asks.

He's smirking. I can tell he's smirking. I can't even open my eyes yet, but I just know from that self-satisfied tone of voice he's using that he's smirking at me.

"You're so screwed," I threaten.

And then he's laughing. "Not yet," he says, "but I fervently hope--"

It's amazing what a mocking Josh does for my energy level. I can't possibly allow him to just wallow in his perceived victory, so I launch myself at him, pulling him down half on top of me and kissing him for all I'm worth.

God, that tongue is just amazing. All that ranting he does apparently keeps his mouth in tip-top shape, and I plan to take full advantage of my newfound knowledge.

He's still hard, of course, and he's pressing his erection rather insistently into my thigh. I grin into his mouth. "Getting a little impatient, Joshua?"

Josh pulls back and smirks down at me. "Well, you did promise I would be screwed."

I have to laugh. I just have to laugh. I am having the best time with him. My entire body is still shaking from the aftermath of that astounding orgasm, but I muster the strength to flip him onto his back and straddle him.

Josh moans and squirms beneath me, his hands landing on my breasts. I arch my back, pressing myself into his palms.

"I was speaking metaphorically," I tell him.

"What?" He seems to be having trouble thinking straight right now, and I am absurdly pleased. The balance of power has definitely shifted; he's desperate, and I'm sated. This is going to be too much fun.

"You realize, of course, that by providing me with--" I pause, unable to come up with an appropriate euphemism. "Let's just say I'm much less desperate than you are at this point."

Josh stares up at me, his brow wrinkling as he figures out what I'm saying. "So?" He sweeps one hand down my side, just stroking the skin with those delightful fingers.

"So," I say, leaning down to press a series of kisses across his chest. His incredibly muscular chest. "You really need to lose those jeans."

"Well, Donnatella, that's difficult when a beautiful woman has me pinned to the bed."

Complete sentences? I've got to nip that in the bud. I suck on his nipple for a moment until he's groaning and thrusting his hips up at me. Much better. I raise my body and slide down the bed.

Josh attempts to look nonchalant, as he watches me. He does a good job at first, crossing his arms behind his head as I unbutton and unzip his jeans. But beneath me, his legs are shaking. I smile at him and lean over, placing wet, openmouthed kisses just below his belly button.

"God!" Josh yelps.

I smirk at him. "I didn't realize I was worthy of deification, Joshua," I toss his words back to him. Then I stick my tongue in his belly button.

"You'll be demoted," he gasps, "if you stop that thing you're doing with your mouth."

I immediately stop. Josh half-laughs, half-groans in disappointment. But, really, he should know better than to give me such a perfect opportunity to torture him.

I tug at his waistband and give him an expectant look. It takes him a second to figure out my complicated code, then he raises his hips. I work his jeans and boxers down past his erection and--

Wow.

I mean... Wow.

Josh is beautiful. Now, I realize the penis is not an inherently beautiful piece of equipment, but when you take into account the fact that this is Josh, this is what I've done to Josh... He is beautiful.

Also impressive. In fact, he definitely doesn't need to drive a fast car to make up for any deficiency on his part. He could probably drive a go-kart and be completely secure in his manhood.

I abandon his pants halfway down his thighs and take him in one hand. "How about I do something else with my mouth?"

Josh moves faster than I would have thought possible, ripping his hands from behind his head and reaching down for me. Desperate is a good look on Josh. "No," he moans, "I can't--I want--"

I stare at him, even as I caress his erection with my fingers. "What do you want, Joshua?"

Josh tugs at my shoulders. "You, Donnatella."

I smile. And then I kiss him. Hard.

After a moment, Josh flops backwards, pulling me with him. Laughing, he rolls me onto my back and says, "Don't move." Then he sits up and struggles with his jeans. His gorgeous back is begging to be touched, the hard muscles shifting under his soft skin in quite an inviting manner.

"Not even to do this?" I ask innocently, trailing my fingers up and down his spine. Josh quivers.

"That kind of moving is fine," he mutters, fighting with a particularly stubborn shoelace. I can't help but notice that his hands are shaking.

I push myself up on one hand and lean over, kissing his back. He is just so beautiful. Naked Josh. This is going to take some getting used to. Before, I was far too preoccupied with my own arousal to really look at him, but he is truly a work of art. His body is disgustingly muscular for someone who works eighteen hour days. It's not fair; I mean, when does he find time to work out?

The play of muscles in his back as he divests himself of the last of his clothing is utterly mesmerizing. Watching, I am convinced I could be content to just watch him move for the rest of the night.

Then Josh turns back to me with those dimples and that impressive erection and I am suddenly in need of some serious action.

"That mouth," Josh tells me with a delighted grin, "should be illegal."

"Illegal?" I laugh into his chest as he all but tackles me.

"A controlled substance?" he suggests, nipping at my neck.

"My mouth isn't a drug, Josh," I point out reasonably, even as his hand finds my breast again, temporarily relieving me of the ability to think clearly.

"It's intoxicating," Josh mumbles into my hair. His hand snakes in between my legs, his fingers dancing through the damp curls. I'm still incredibly sensitive, and I nearly levitate when he brushes against my clit.

"I'm ready, Josh," I assure him. Hell, I've been ready since that first kiss in his office, but there's no need to stroke his massive ego.

Then Josh shifts a bit and I open my legs a little more and he is there.

We both freeze, holding this intense gaze. His brown eyes are wide and dark and sparkling in the dim light. The only sound in the room is our harsh breathing.

"Josh?" I ask.

"I'm fine," he says. "Tested six months after Mandy."

I frown at him. "You had to bring her up?"

Josh, being the insufferable idiot that he is, smirks. "You never did like Mandy," he says. Only Joshua would consider this an appropriate time and circumstance to accuse me of being jealous of his ex-girlfriend! I glare at him, but he just keeps talking, "I always wondered--"

"Joshua, could you please concentrate?"

He slides against me and we both groan. "I am," he manages. "Believe me. Do we need anything?"

I close my eyes and try to remember if I took my pill this morning. It's so routine that I can't specifically recall, but I'm a creature of habit; I always take my pill and a vitamin. So I lock gazes with Josh and shake my head. "No," I whisper, awed by the enormity, the intimacy of the moment. "We're fine."

Josh nods, but doesn't move. He's still staring at me. His arms are shaking with the effort of restraint, but he's waiting for my permission.

God, this man is just too sweet. I grin up at him. "What the hell are you waiting for?"

And then Josh is laughing. He leans down and kisses me, hard and desperate. When he pulls away, he meets my gaze and starts to push into me, inside of me.

I bite down on my lip a bit, because it's been a while and it's uncomfortable at first. It's pleasure and a little bit of pain all mixed up into this amazing connection Josh and I are making. I think I'm grinning.

Josh watches me carefully as he enters, then he stops. "You okay?"

I'm not sure it's humanly possible to feel any better that this, but I'm not about to tell that to the walking ego. My hands are tracing patterns on that amazing back of his and I nod. "I'm fine, Josh."

"Just fine?" Josh mock frowns at me, even as he begins to pull out again. The effect is ruined by the way his breath catches in his throat.

"Better than fine," I answer, stroking his chest. There are no words to describe this. This is perfection.

"How much better?" Josh asks. He thrusts back into me, harder this time.

I inhale sharply. "God!"

Josh laughs a bit, and then I tighten around him and it's his turn to gasp. "Donna!"

"Remember," I ask, as he withdraws, "when I said you were screwed?"

"How could I forget?" he asks, his voice trembling a bit with exertion as he moves. "And I should point out that I *am* screwed."

I lift my hips up to receive him. The discomfort is fading fast in favor of arousal. Intense, sudden arousal. "You're an idiot." I tighten my muscles around him. "And this is going to be the best you've ever had."

Josh pauses, panting, and grins at me. "Are you *threatening* me with good sex?" He hovers over me, his smirk inches above me and my body caged in by those amazing biceps. I can't resist leaning up and kissing him.

After a moment, I drop back to the mattress. "No," I answer, shifting impatiently against him. Would he move, for the love of god? "Amazing sex. Outstanding sex." Because, really, it's Josh and me. How could it be anything less? Besides which I have already had my fun, and am free to concentrate on him. And on making this the most amazing night of his life.

"Yes," Josh grins, starting to thrust into me again. "Outstanding. This is bad why?"

"It's not bad," I answer. God, he feels good. I don't usually get much personal enjoyment out of this specific position, but Josh must be doing something right. I wrap my legs higher. "It's just that I can use my considerable powers of--Yeah, like that."

Josh's body is slick with sweat, and I run my hands down his back to his ass, squeezing appreciatively. Josh groans and thrusts harder. "Like that?"

"Yes."

"You were saying?" he asks, leaning down to suck on my neck.

"I don't usually, you know..." My hands tighten on his hips as he shifts to a particularly good angle. Not sure I can be coherent when his body is hitting mine like this. "Like this, I don't--"

Josh pulls back and stares down at me. Have I mentioned that his eyes are just beautiful? "You don't climax like this?" he asks.

I'm blushing. This is ridiculous. Joshua Lyman is inside of me, my legs are wrapped around his hips, I've been threatening him with the best sex of his life, and I'm blushing because he said "climax" to me. "Don't worry about it," I mumble. "I just--Joshua!"

Joshua, being the overacheiver that he is, flips us over so that I'm astride him. I have no idea how he did that without crushing my leg, but I'm not complaining. And it feels incredible; I sink down, taking him in further and bringing my clit into contact with his body. "God," I moan.

Josh smirks up at me. "Better?"

I try to look superior, I really do. "A little," I concede.

"Good," he grins, his hands smoothing over my thighs, my hips, my breasts. "What are you waiting for?"

"You," I laugh, "are impossible." I rotate my hips a bit and he gasps. I quirk an eyebrow at him and do it again, slower.

Josh's hands tighten on my hips, and he urges me up. "Impossibly good," he offers.

"No," I say, sinking back onto him with an appreciative moan. "Just impossible." God, he is so deep inside of me right now.

Josh slides one hand down in between my legs, letting his thumb skim over my clit. My eyes snap open.

"I'm close, Donna," Josh manages, and the tinge of desperation in his voice is almost enough to finish me off. Then his hips begin lifting up to meet me, increasing the pressure building in my body. "Tell me how you want it."

I shake my head, because speech is getting difficult. His fingers are on my clit, and he's thrusting into me, and it just feels so amazing. I heed my body's advice and speed my motions.

"Donnatella," he moans, and his free hand clenches my thigh. He's moving faster, his breathing harsh. "Please."

I don't know what he's asking me for. I can't seem to process much of anything. I grab his free hand and tangle it with mine, using him for leverage. "Josh," I whisper. Just his name. Just an affirmation.

My movements are less controlled, less graceful as I push myself down onto him. Josh's fingers fumble on my clit, and I'm so close.

"Donna," Josh is desperate. I can tell from his voice that he's barely hanging on.

I meet his gaze and smile at him. "Come for me, Josh."

He shakes his head stubbornly; he wants to wait for me, I can tell.

"Yes, Josh," I say, squeezing my muscles tight around him.

"Donna," he gasps, and then he is coming, thrusting helplessly into me. The look on his face is amazing, and he doesn't look away from me, not once. It is unbearably erotic.

And I am so, so close; I think I'm whimpering. I drop my free hand down, pressing his fingers harder, circling my clit once, twice. And then I am there.

I shatter, riding out Josh's orgasm and my own before collapsing onto him.

I am exhausted.

I don't think I can move. Ever.

But that's fine. I've just found my new favorite place to be: Plastered to Josh Lyman's naked body.

***

I may have dozed off for a bit there, but Josh's fiery fingers feathering down my back bring me back to the present. I gather my energy and lift my head to meet his gaze.

"Hi," he grins up at me, dimples out in full force. He is gorgeous--sweaty and slick and just beautifully sated.

"Hi," I repeat, with what I'm sure is a matching, dopey smile.

I should really try to move; this is hardly a dignified position, splayed as I am over his body. But I'm reluctant to relinquish this connection. I'm not sure what we're supposed to be saying to each other right now. I don't want this to become awkward or strange or uncomfortable, not after the best sex I've ever had. Because if we get strange with each other, that means I don't get to sleep with Joshua Lyman again, and that is just unthinkable.

"So," Josh says conversationally as his hands cup my ass, "I must admit that I am one hundred percent, well and truly screwed, Donnatella."

And just like that, all hints of awkwardness are gone as I dissolve into laughter. Josh joins me, and the feel of his body shaking with mirth against me is sweet and joyful. This feels like something I'm supposed to be doing, enjoying Josh like this. Sharing this part of me with Josh.

I ease myself off of him with a twinge of discomfort, then settle next to him, my legs twining with his and one arm wrapped around his waist. "I told you," I boast. I absently press kisses into his shoulder. Have I mentioned that the man's arms are sculpted? Adonis has nothing on Josh Lyman. "You should listen to me."

"I do," Josh says, pulling me closer to kiss my forehead. He's quiet for a moment. "Donna, you know this wasn't--I mean, I didn't come over here just to--"

"Josh," I interrupt him, "I know. It isn't just that for me, either."

"Excellent." Josh moves suddenly, rolling over so I land on my back with him half on top of me. He leans down and kisses me, softly. "Because I must admit to being insanely curious as to what other things you can do with that mouth."

I roll my eyes at him. "You're an impossible man."

"Impossibly good," he corrects, grinning. "If that display just now was any indication."

"Impossibly arrogant," I offer, my hands exploring the newly-familiar muscles of his back. I am quickly growing obsessed with Josh's naked skin. "Hardly a surprising development. Just promise me you won't walk around tomorrow preening like a peacock."

"Preening like a peacock?" Josh snickers.

"It's an expression," I answer haughtily.

"Whatever. Tomorrow, I will be my witty, charming self, and no one will be the wiser."

"Oh, god," I groan. "You're going to strut, aren't you? And smirk. CJ's going to know the minute we walk in!"

Josh stares down at me, mock offended. "Please! I am the soul of discretion."

I snort indelicately, but the effect is ruined by a sudden yawn.

"Tired?" Josh asks with a soft smile.

I nod, my eyes drifting shut. "Just promise me you won't ask for baked goods."

"Good night, Donnatella," Josh whispers. Then he scoots down the bed a little, rests his head on my chest, and curls his body into mine. I don't usually sleep on my back, but tonight I have no problem. Must have something to do with the man in my bed.

And in the morning, Josh wakes me sliding back into bed. I roll blindly towards him, and there's a strange, crinkling noise right before he yelps.

I open my eyes and stare at him. "What was that noise you just made?"

Josh is sitting there in his boxers, hair adorably rumpled, and with this perfectly placed sunbeam highlighting his chest. This, I realize, is what I want to see every morning. Sleepy, half-naked Josh is definitely the way to start the day.

Josh shrugs and I am momentarily distracted by the way his shoulders flex and release. I believe I my be salivating. Josh grins at me and holds out a small paper bag. "Baked goods."

"What?" I say, pulling myself into a sitting position. I smirk when Josh's gaze drops immediately to my breasts as the sheet falls away.

"Baked goods," Josh repeats, and he's giving me that smile. The one with the dimples and the vulnerability and I want him right now.

I am on the verge of tears, suddenly, as I take the proffered muffins and bagels. "Joshua," I manage, "you can be impossibly sweet sometimes."

Josh waves off my words. "Don't get all, you know, girly on me, Donnatella. I just thought this was an occasion worthy of baked goods." Then he kisses me soundly. "And coffee."

I beam at him for a moment, just because he is too much sometimes. Just when I'm convinced he's all ego and cynicism, he does something so perfectly sweet and thoughtful and I just want to jump him. "Joshua," I say, "you may want to lay back for this."

Josh smirks at me, eyebrows raised. "For what?"

I toss the bag over my shoulder. "You wanted to know what else I could do with my mouth, right?"

Josh groans, I laugh, and we fall to the bed in a tangle of sheets.

THE END

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