Fuck me… The thought of never feeling this again makes me want to drink bleach.
I finally found the perfect high and I’m stomping it out before I can get it all.
Noah groans on my lips, urging himself back. He seems pained.
“I’m sorry I pushed…” he whispers, and even that is almost enough for me to climax.
“You didn’t,” I tell him with sincerity. “Trust me, I want you just as much, Noah…”
“But it’s not a good time,” he nods, and I don’t think he realizes that he’s pouting.
We’re both quiet for a few minutes, trying to compose ourselves and rein it in a little. I’m telling him we can’t, but we’re still in his bed, panting and touching.
“You have to stop first…” I plead, unable to remove my hands from his chest… And that god-forsaken nipple ring.
“Yea right!” He gasps. “There’s no way I can stop first…” His hips are still thrusting slowly in between my thighs.
“Maybe we shouldn’t then…”
I’m giving myself mental whiplash, but seriously… How am I supposed to convince myself to stop doing something that feels like this?
“I don’t want to,” his hands glide up my waist. “But we probably should.”
I nod and release a small whine of reluctance. Noah takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckles in such a romantic display that I’m ready to throw all caution to the wind. But then he pulls away, sitting back on his knees. His eyes travel all over my body, wearing a look of torment. Then they fall below his own waist and he frowns.
“How long has my dick been out?”
I burst out laughing. I can’t even help it. I laugh so hard I’m snorting, and Noah beams at me, tugging his swollen lower lip between his teeth to stifle his own humor. I watch him in amusement as he tucks his erection into his boxers, trying to stuff it down by his thigh, though it’s not really working. Now he’s just tenting the material, which makes me laugh even harder.
“What’s it like walking around with the Loch Ness Monster in your pants all day?” I ask, giggling as I lean on my elbows.
Noah crawls away on the bed, chuckling with humility. His cheeks are actually flushed a bit, likely from what we were just doing, as well as the reference to his blessings. But I’m smitten with how humble he is. He jokes around with his cockiness, but when it comes down to it, he’s not a smug asshole, even though he easily could be.
He’s like a big, tattooed teddy bear. And I just want to hug him forever.
Which is precisely why I need to leave right away. The longer I stay here, the more I’ll be tempted to keep thinking of him as a boyfriend, and not my friend Noah, the chronic bachelor.
He stands up at the edge of his bed, eyes locked on me while I get up, adjusting my shirt.
“You can stay in here and rest some more if you want,” he offers, swaying in place. “I’m sure you’re still pretty exhausted. I mean… Does your neck hurt? Maybe we should go see a doctor?”
I gawk up at him with wide eyes. See? It’s already weird. Now every time he says “we” I’m getting those butterflies…
He doesn’t want to be your boyfriend, dumbass. Wipe that thought clean out of your head.
“I’m fine,” I grumble, taking his hand that’s extended and letting him help me up. “I just need a hot shower and some coffee.”
“We can get you both of those,” he smiles sweetly and I cringe. Stop saying we. “Shower’s right through there. Clean towels in the closet, whatever you need. I’ll have coffee waiting for you when you’re ready.”
He kisses the top of my head softly, fingering the strands of my hair. “Al, I know I complicated things… But we’re good. I’m still here for you, no matter what. And you don’t need to worry about anything with me. I’ll never push you into something you don’t want.”
I curl my face to gaze in his direction, studying the ardent look in his eyes. I know he means what he’s saying.
This is the world’s most complicated scenario. But I trust him emphatically, and it feels like an awakening to have someone on my side, finally. I can’t give that up, no matter what happens.
“I’m so happy I met you,” I tell him, because it’s true, and wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him tight.
He surrounds me with his arms and holds me the way I need. I don’t want to ruin this heartfelt moment by upsetting him, but I do have to say…
“You know I have to go back, right?”
He stills, but surprisingly he doesn’t pull away and give me a scathing look of disdain. Instead, he squeezes me tighter and I can feel him nodding before he rests his chin on top of my head.
“I know.”
“But it’ll be okay,” I add, throwing in some optimistic words to pacify us both. “I just have to get everything ready for my show. That’s the most important thing right now.”
“When is it again?” He asks in a pensive voice.
“Wednesday at seven. I’ll text you the flyer.”
“I’m really proud of you, baby,” he whispers and my throat constricts.
“I know. You’re the best.”
“No, you are.”
“No… You.”
“Don’t start this game, sweetheart,” he grins down at me. “You won’t win.” He finally releases me with a pat on the butt. “Now, go take your shower. Coffee and breakfast coming right up.”
I begrudgingly let go of him, and make my way into the master bathroom, marveling at how big and fancy it is. The shower is giant, with dual massive shower heads, and there’s a separate clawfoot tub across the room that looks quite luxurious. I can picture myself bathing in it, but I’m not in the right mood for a bath. I need to just shower and figure out what the hell I’m going to say to my bastard of a husband when I get home.
I’m not too worried about Roger for today. His pattern is that he never attacks me two nights in a row. Usually after a particularly brutal event, like last night, he’ll take off for a day, sometimes even two, I’m guessing to give me space and sort out whatever psycho shit is going through his head. He might not even be home when I get there…
Here’s hoping.
I strip out of my leggings and tunic then turn on the shower, getting the water to a nice warm temperature. I step under the waterfall and let it cascade over me, washing away the bad memories. I find some body wash and lather it up in my hands, scrubbing at my throat to erase Roger’s harmful touch.
But then I remember Noah’s lips there and my movements slow, fingertips grazing the skin where he kissed and licked, gently and revering. The steam surrounds me and I’m sufficiently warmed, my insides churning a small, glowing fire.
My lips still burn from Noah’s searing kisses, the bottom feeling a bit bruised, and now I can’t tell if it’s from Roger’s backhand or Noah’s sensual little nips. I press them together to stifle a moan that wants to escape me. Thinking about his tongue in my mouth, exploring, tracing, tasting and devouring… It’s making me gush.
My walls constrict, eyes sealed shut as I picture Noah right in front of me. His tall, muscular body, the ink that covers his glowing skin giving him that wicked look. Dark eyes and soft shaggy hair, sharp nose and jaw… He’s the work of art here.