by Frankie Rose
MORGAN TAKES Tate’s missing person’s status about as well I’d hoped: explosive tears and a lot of swearing. Noah arrived twenty minutes later and Morgan’s mother veto’d our presence, saying we’d caused enough drama for one morning. I’m really starting to see why Morgan hates going home so much.
By the time Noah and I have braved the subway, changing three times to get back to Upper Manhattan, I’ve almost managed to put Luke out of my mind. Almost.
Noah holds his breath when he follows me into my apartment, and I know it’s because he’s waiting to see if Leslie is around. She isn’t. We go to my bedroom all the same, a dangerous thing to do. I fall back on my bed and smile when I see Noah grinning.
“You look like you’re up to no good, Irish,” I tell him, toeing off my shoes.
“Ahh, God, not you, too. It’s bad enough with Morgan and the rest of Columbia calling me that. So unimaginative. If I were as limited as you all, I’d be calling everyone I meet American.”
“Good point,” I concede. Noah peels off his coat to reveal a light grey sweater that matches his eyes. He sits down on my bed and leans forward. “Hat on or off, darlin’?
I try to hide my small smile. It feels wrong to smile when Tate is missing and I’m in the middle of a major meltdown regarding my dad’s serial killer status, but with that accent it’s hard not to. “Off,” I tell him, pulling the knitted beanie from his head. His hair is mussed already, and he only makes it worse when he rakes his hands through it. I reach up and twist my fingers through it carefully, waiting to see if he cares that I’m touching him. He leans back against my hand and closes his eyes, breathing out hard.
“You have this amazing ability to make me feel like there’s nothing else going on in the world, you know that?” he whispers.
“Really?” That surprises me. Noah sinks down slowly beside me on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I’m gonna kiss you now, Avery. I’m gonna make you want me. You okay with that?”
Luke’s face instantly springs to mind. I squirm on the bed, awkward and irritated. I can’t keep doing this to myself. Seriously, letting him invade my thoughts every second of every waking day is ruining everything. I can’t do it anymore. Maybe doing this, being with Noah, will change things. I stare up at him, feeling suddenly like a little girl. The look in his eyes is a hungry one, and I can feel myself buckling, needing contact, needing someone to hold me and make me feel something other than worry and fear for more than five minutes. “Okay,” I whisper.
He doesn’t hold back. In a second his hands are on my waist, tugging at my clothes. I gasp in a deep breath when he tips my head back with his own and starts kissing my neck, grazing his teeth over my skin. The shudder that runs through my body penetrates down to my bones, half arousal, half panic. Can I do this with him? Can I really do this? There’s only one way to find out.
I scramble with Noah’s sweater, trying to get my hands underneath to feel his skin. A low growl rumbles in his throat and he quickly leans back so he can tear it over his head. His t-shirt goes with it, and I slip my hands over his sides and upwards to grip onto his naked back. He’s leaner than Luke but still muscled, still beautiful to look at. I sit up and press my lips slowly to his chest, gently running my tongue over his skin.
“Ahhh fuck, Avery. You shouldn’t have done that.” Noah grabs hold of my hips and pulls me up so that our chests press together, and his left hand buries itself into my hair. His other hand hurriedly pulls at my cotton shirt, lifting it up over my bra. That’s as far as this adventure can go without one of us breaking away from kissing each other to lift my shirt over my head. Noah is as incapable of making that happen as I am. He cups my breast over my bra, pinching and rolling my nipple hard through the material so that a sharp twist of pain relays around my body. My back arches away from the bed, pressing me even closer to him, and Noah groans. He rolls me onto my back and throws one leg over mine so that he’s hovering above me. His eyes wander greedily over my bare stomach and up over my bra. Devouring every inch of me, he shakes his head and lets out a ragged breath.
“You’re amazing, Avery. You’re so fucking beautiful. I wanna make you feel so good.” He dips his head and lets his weight rest over me so he can tug the lace of my bra cup out of the way, and then his mouth is hot on my skin, licking and kissing. A desperate keening sound catches in my throat when he carefully bites my nipple, the pain even sweeter than when he pinched me.
“Noah!” I dig my fingernails into his back and he growls again, sending a low wave of pleasure through my body. He reaches down and shoves my legs apart so he can climb in between them, and I hitch my knees up so he can get closer. We both shiver when he pushes down, rocking against me so that I can feel how hard he is. A demanding throb burns between my legs, insisting that I do something about it, and I run through the scenario in my head. Pulling off my jeans, tearing Noah’s off, too. The very thought of it sends me running in two different directions. My eyes start to sting, but I ignore that. Ignore Luke’s face and the sinking pit in my gut. Suddenly this doesn’t seem so easy after all. Noah reaches down and strokes his hand lightly over my jeans between my legs, and I tremble involuntarily.
“Do you want me, Avery?” Noah breathes into my mouth. His tongue runs over my lips, teasing me.
“I—,” I pant, unable to finish. Unable to give him an answer either way. Noah takes my shortness of breath as a yes.
“I’m gonna take off your jeans now.” His hands move up, slowly unbuttoning my jeans, and he watches me writhe underneath him the whole time, daring me to stop him. I want to. I definitely want to stop him. Or at least I think I do. I’m balancing on a knife’s edge, fighting to maintain control. Luke’s brown eyes are burned into my mind and I just can’t seem to shake them. A sob wells at the back of my throat. That’s when I start to feel pathetic. Noah’s a good guy. He’s been patient with me; he’s sexy as hell and funny. Why shouldn’t I want this? I swallow hard, forcing that sob to remain unvoiced. I have to do this.
Once he’s unzipped my pants and I’ve eased them off my hips, Noah sits back and tugs frantically at the material while I help by kicking out of them. When he lays back down on top of me I can feel a whole lot more of him. He is so hard, rigid through his jeans. His breathing quickens when he rocks his hips against me and I let out a startled cry. It feels so good. This is what I’ve needed. I’ve needed it more than anything, which makes shame flood through me.
“Do you want me?” Noah repeats again, his voice low and hoarse. I can’t speak. No matter how badly I’m fighting with myself internally, pushing myself to just do this so I can get over a person I can never possibly hope to have a future with, I still can’t make myself tell Noah I want him. The noise that comes out of me is close to a whimper. He looks up at me with a heavy, greedy expression in his eyes and slips his hand downwards over the sensitive skin of my stomach. My back arches again as he keeps reaching down, and when his fingers brush over the thin material of my panties I let my knees drop to the side and moan.
“Fuck, Avery, you’re so perfect.”
I don’t feel perfect, though. I feel flawed and vulnerable. I don’t want to feel that way. This should be amazing and fun. I shrug out of my embarrassment and meet Noah’s awed gaze to see that he really means it. There’s a hunger burning in the way he’s looking at me, which makes my skin flush. He keeps working his fingers over the material of my panties, gradually increasing the pressure each time until I can’t take it anymore.
Avery, just do it, damnit. Take control. Just do it!
I reach down and fumble with Noah’s pants, unzipping them and thrusting my hand inside before he can object. My hand curves around him and his whole body jerks.
“Shit! Avery, don’t, I’m gonna…” A visible judder runs through his body and he shoves away from me, hunching over himself. He pulls his arms into his side and goes absolutely still. It’s fairly obvious what just happened, and by the way Noah has stop
ped breathing and is staring at the floor, he’s mortified. My heart is still jack-hammering in my chest, five seconds behind the change of atmosphere in the room. In the time it takes for my body to catch up, Noah has stood up and put his t-shirt and sweater back on. He’s working on his shoes when I sit up and pull my knees up to my chest.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I have assignments to complete,” he says flatly. I reach forward and place my hand on his back but he inches away from the contact, stooping down to tie his laces. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”
I just gaze up at him, knowing the expression on my face makes me look simple. “Sure. Uh…”
“Okay. We’ll catch up soon.” Noah snatches up his coat and bolts out of the room before I can say anything else. And that’s it. He just leaves. I stare at the door he’s slammed closed and try to get my head around it. Sure, he was embarrassed, but what the fuck? It happens. Guys come a little quicker than anticipated on occasion. He needn’t have fled the apartment like it was the very worst thing that had ever happened. There are far worse things reserved for that particular title.
Sixteen
Outed
