Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
It was that good.
I don’t know what you would call me and Noah. We’re not dating, although maybe we are. We go out together occasionally… sometimes dinner, or to grocery shop. Ryan is always with us. We talk on the phone. He comes over and makes sure my house is secure and my windows and doors are locked. He even installed these little alarms that go off if a window is opened from the outside.
But, until today we’ve never really spent time alone. There’s been no sex, no kissing… nothing. I thought it was weird. After what we shared, I assumed there would definitely be more PDA between us or heck even private…
But there was nothing.
I shrugged it off. He was working through stuff. He had a son which needed to come first. That was all good. Then this morning he showed up at my door with doughnuts and coffee and before I could even inhale the deliciousness of it all… he jumped me.
It started off hot and heavy with me pushed against the wall and Noah being all mouth, hands, teeth and very, very hard cock. It got hot fast and he carried me into the bedroom and then it got soft, it got slow, it got sweet and torturous. I begged, he teased, I pleaded and finally he took me over the mountain.
It was more than worth the wait.
But, I had no idea what we were doing. I had no idea where we were headed. I wanted to ask, but I also didn’t want to rock the boat. Which, just to say, might be another reason I keep my eyes closed and try to stay in the moment.
“You want that coffee now?” he asks, his fingers sifting through my hair, wrapping around one strand enough that I feel his tug on it and I smile because that feels good too. I love that after sex he wants to keep touching me.
I love it.
“Where’s it at?” I ask, stifling a yawn.
“In the bag in the kitchen,” he says.
The same bag he stuffed condoms into. Seems Noah is a planner. He brought me breakfast, but he knew in doing that he was going to make sure we both had dessert. A girl has to appreciate a man who has a plan and sticks to it—especially when that plan gives you mind blowing orgasms.
“That would require moving,” I tell him, something he undoubtedly knows, but I feel the need to point out.
I feel his body rumble under me and I know he’s stifling a laugh.
“Yeah, Gorgeous, it would.”
“Then… no thanks,” I tell him.
“You could lie here and I’d go get the coffee and doughnuts,” he suggests and I frown into my man’s sexy, warm chest and muster the courage to raise my head to look at him.
“Do you want coffee and doughnuts?”
“Not especially,” he answers.
“Then, we’re good,” I tell him.
His hand moves from my hair to my face. His hand is holding my chin as he looks at me. His dark brown eyes seem to be searching mine. I don’t know if he finds what he wants, but his thumb comes out and brushes ever so slightly under my lip.
“You’re so fucking unbelievably beautiful, Rory,” he says and I blink.
It feels like my oxygen is all trapped in my chest and I can’t get it out. Tears sting my eyes, but I try to buckle them down, not wanting to make a fool of myself.
“Gorgeous…” Noah whispers, clearly seeing I’m upset.
“You believe that,” I whisper, not being able to stop the words.
“Fuck, baby. You just have to look in the mirror.”
“I don’t see it.”
“It’s there,” he says.
It’s there.
“I don’t see it,” I tell him again.
“Then, you aren’t looking,” he whispers, bringing his mouth to mine and kissing me.
It’s a light kiss, sweet and gentle but he hit something inside of me. Something that struck right into my heart and I’d been holding a tight rein on my emotions. I’d been bottling them up for years. Whatever Noah hit, causes them to seep out. Not a lot… just a little, but the little that does would be painful—so painful I might not survive—except for one thing.
Noah.
He has no idea and I can’t tell him.
I just can’t.
Besides, he probably wouldn’t want to know. I don’t know what we are, but we’re not there yet. That point in a relationship where you open your heart and show the other person what’s in there. We’re not there and signs point to the fact that Noah isn’t the type of man who will ever open his heart and lay it bare. So, I can’t tell him that he’s managed to soothe scars inside of me that have been there for all of my life. I can’t tell him that when you hear that you are ugly, worthless, stupid…. Over and over and from people who are supposed to protect you, nurture you and support you, that you begin to believe it. That those words, those insults sink down inside of you and go black, draining colors out of your life until everything is gone and you just exist in the gray area… trying to survive.