With the soft light coming from the bedside lamp, I revel in her neediness, straightening my spine at the lust swirling in her eyes. Wanting to take her. Needing her too.
I kiss my way up her stomach and push her shirt and bra up. I didn’t even realize she’s still wearing them. When I move my hand around her side to remove them, she grabs the back of my neck and holds me against her nipple, moaning loudly when I suck on it.
“Now, Noah.” Her hips surge up, searching.
And who am I to deny her when I want her so badly?
We’ll take it slower next time.
Caging her in with my elbows, I interlace our hands as I align our bodies, staring at her face so I don’t miss a moment of her reaction. The small inhale of air when I first push inside, the pleasure-filled gasp when I press further, the widening of her eyes when I'm all the way inside of her. And the tight frown when I move and hit that one spot that is her spot.
Her breathing turns shaky as her eyes roll back in her head as I hit that spot over and over while trying to contain my impending release, which is threatening to overpower me at any moment.
The muscles in my back are tense, a slight sheen of sweat forming on my forehead from staying in control.
Chloe’s legs wrap around my ass and we both moan when that position allows me to go deeper. When she keeps digging in her heels insistently, I pick up my pace, wanting to feel her come around me.
She lifts her hips to meet mine, our slick skin slapping against each other, and I know she’s close too. Letting go of one of her hands, I push my arm under her ass to lift her lower half. The angle changes, and I know it’s more intense for her this way too. Her body arches off the mattress, spurning me on. Her moans fill the room as I chase my own release.
A few pumps later, my whole body shudders, my tense muscles momentarily going weak before I collapse on Chloe. After a few inhales, I roll to the side, not wanting to crush her.
And then I just lie there for a while, one of my hands still interlaced with Chloe’s as I stare at the ceiling and listen to our still-rapid breathing.
Then, the whole situation crashes down on me.
I just had sex with Chloe.
Holy shit.
I just had sex with Chloe.
What have I done?
I was so caught up in the tension that had been building all day and wrapped itself around me that it was all I could see. All I could think about. All I wanted.
Now, the clouds have lifted, and I’m not sure what that means for us.
Does it have to mean anything for us?
Do I want it to mean anything? Fuck if I know.
When I glance over at her, my eyes wander over her face, trying to gather her response to all of this.
Her eyes are already on me, her gaze soft and sleepy. Satisfied. She blinks and turns sideways to face me. Next time, I’ll make sure to have her naked from head to toe, so I can properly pay tribute to her gorgeous body.
It’s still as beautiful as it used to be, even though she’s gotten more muscular, yet more curvy at the same time. There’s an opposing softness to her strength that fascinates me. What happened to the girl that used to eat donuts for breakfast and scoffed at me when I had to leave to work out?
This Chloe is different. And I really like what I’m seeing. Tasting. Touching.
When her hand comes up to move toward my face but stops mid-way, I take it in mine to pull it to my face. Kissing her palm once before putting it down on the mattress.
“Time to take care of business.” I lean forward to give her nose a quick kiss.
Something that’s more of an old habit than anything else.
Why does our brain remember random things like this but not others?
“Be right back.” I turn away from her and grab my boxers.
I walk to the open bathroom door and pull it closed behind me. After getting rid of the condom, I use the toilet, and wash my hands.
My gaze roams around the neatly organized place when I dry my hands. It’s quite the opposite of her disorganized and messy bathroom she had as a teenager.
When I hang the towel back on the rack, my eyes land on the open mirror cabinet that’s on the side of the bathroom. My brows furrow when I take a closer look, and I swallow hard while my brain makes sense of the contents in front of me.
My chest tightens as I push open the door all the way for a better look. A suffocating pressure builds inside my chest, and I have to steady myself on the counter as I take in the orange and white pill bottles. They’re all filled to various degrees. Solid red pills, several different-sized white pills, and blue and red pills.
With a shaking hand, I grab one of the bottles and look at the label. Chloe Williams. Mechanically, I pick up every single one and check it. They all have her name on it and were just refilled last week.
What the fuck is going on?
Why does Chloe have so much medicine? None of the prescription names sound familiar as I look at them, trying to figure this out.
How sick do you have to be to need this much medicine?
Once more, I grab the edge of the sink for balance, my nerves enjoying the hard material pushing into my palms. It’s so much better than my other thoughts.
A glance in the mirror confirms that there’s no way Chloe won’t know right away something’s up. My pained expression is visible from a mile away.
Shit . . . Chloe.
I grab one of the bottles again, reading the label once more, needing to make sure I didn’t imagine this.
Why hasn’t she said anything?
My feet carry me out of the bathroom before I know how to handle this situation, the medicine still clenched tightly in my fist.
Chloe is sitting on the bed, the blanket pulled up to her lap, her shirt back in place.
She gives me another one of her lazy, orgasm-induced smiles, and I stop dead in my tracks. I’m only a few feet away from the bed. Why does it feel like a punch in the face to see her like this? So happy and carefree?
When the turmoil inside me doesn’t have an ounce of happiness left.
I see the exact moment she notices my expression and her smile drops. “What’s wrong?”
My breathing is too erratic, too out-of-control for me to speak. I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
Maybe it’s nothing bad. Maybe those are some new vitamins and minerals I haven’t heard of.
When I open my eyes again, I wordlessly hold up the pill bottle in my hand.
Her mouth falls open, and one of her hands lifts to cover it, while she shakes her head.
I don’t have the right to confront her about this. What we had, our incredible friendship so many years ago, that’s when I had the right. But now? Now, after a decade away from her, I don’t have that . . . permission. I used to know everything about her. And yet, she’s almost a stranger, but not.
We stare at each other, and I want to know. I want to be the one she lets into her life. Perhaps that’s stupid, but inside my heart, after spending so much time with her today, after being inside her, it’s like we simply fit again. I think. Hope.
I also know two things with absolute certainty as I watch her fold her other arm against her stomach.
These aren’t vitamins.
And I’m not going anywhere until I know what the fuck is going on.
Nineteen
Chloe
No. No, no, no.
Dread pools in my stomach like a dead weight, flooding my body with a wave of nausea so violent, I’m not convinced it won’t have any long-lasting effects.
I stare at Noah, at that damn pill bottle in his hand as my own fingers and toes tingle and start to numb.
This can’t be happening.
Not like this.
Not now.
I’m not ready.
My breathing speeds up, and I shiver.
“Chloe, tell me why the fuck you have all of those pill bottles.”
My mind is running a mile a minute, and
I can’t focus on one thought.
Shit. Why was I so stupid and forgot about them? How could I have been so careless and invite him into my bedroom? And did I really just have sex with Noah? How did things just go so monumentally wrong?
I was planning on telling him about everything . . . eventually. This was definitely not how I had envisioned it though.
“How bad is it?” He takes a step closer.
How can I explain things to him right now? After he was just inside me and gave me one of the best orgasms of my life.
How am I supposed to deal with this?
“Chloe, damn it, talk to me.” Noah lifts his arm, and throws the pill bottle on the bed. It bounces on the comforter several times before it comes to a stop right in front of me, the label facing upright.
Staring me straight in the face, like it’s making fun of me. Like it’s laughing at me.
Look what you got yourself into now.
My hand flies up to my chest to lie against my racing heart.
Then, a strange numbness overtakes my body. It’s as if I’m present but not fully there, like I’m watching all of this through someone else’s eyes, unable to control my body.
“Is it bad?” His voice cuts through my haze, and I shrug.
I don’t know how to do this.
“Fuuuuuuuck.” Noah grabs his hair into his clenched fists, pacing across the room.
I’m not sure why but somehow the sight of him like this pierces my heart. His actions are so opposing that I press my palm harder against my chest, to the point of pain. Unsure if I’m trying to protect myself from the pain that comes from loss or the pain that comes from love, as right now it all just hurts like someone sliced me open from the inside.
And then he’s right in front of me.
I was so lost in my thoughts again, in my panic, that I didn’t notice he had walked over to the bed.
The air of his irritation—his confusion—is still shadowing his face, his eyes darting over my face as if to make sure I’m all right. That I’m still okay. As if he fears I’m not.
And isn’t that the real reason why my heart is in such a frenzy? Because what if he doesn’t care? What if he walks out of here as if nothing happened? Not the sex, not anything else.
Even though I know we can’t be together—we shouldn’t be—I also don’t want this to mean nothing to him.
I don’t want to mean nothing to him.
That would hurt too much.
I want to keep up the illusion for as long as possible that we’ve always shared something special in our lives. A bond, a deep connection, that was just ours. An invisible string that somehow kept us connected over a decade despite our physical distance. Because isn’t that what souls do with their mates?
His hands come up to my face, cupping my cheeks, holding me in place. Making me look straight into his cloudy eyes. His shaky thumbs brush across my skin as he breathes warm air into my face. “Baby, listen to me. I need you to tell me right now what’s going on before I lose my fucking mind, okay?”
I swallow and press my lips together. The back of my eyes burn like they’re on fire.
When I have my emotions under control—at least as much as possible in this situation—I give a quick nod.
“Okay, good.” A rush of air escapes his lips, and he caresses my cheeks one more time before letting his hands drop to the bed.
“I . . . the . . .” How am I going to tell him? Where to start?
One of his hands inches closer to mine on the covers, and the contact helps. It centers me.
You’ve got this. Just say it.
Once the words are out, they aren’t yours anymore. They’ll be his to process.
“So, the medicine . . .” I look at the ceiling and blink. I’ve talked about this a gazillion times, so why is this so hard with him?
“Yeah?” His thumb rubs over my knuckles. “What’s it for?”
Deep breath. Three, two, one.
“My heart.” I push out the words and stare at him.
Two words. They hold all the meaning in this world to me—my whole life—while to him they are still only two words. A few letters put together to name the core of our mortality.
His brows draw together and he stiffens. “What about your heart?”
Crap, I can’t bring myself to just say it. The words are stuck in my throat, and I can’t get them out. Seeing him like this has my gut clenching.
“Do you have high blood pressure? Is that what the medicine is for?”
“Two of them, yes.”
His head keeps bobbing like a bobblehead. “Okay, okay.” There’s a pause and more intense staring that I can’t seem to escape from. Like no way in hell will he miss even one single second of anything regarding me. “And what’s all the other medicine for?”
My chin quivers. “Anti-infection and anti . . .”
“And anti what?”
My cheeks puff up before I blow out a breath. I repeat that several more times, trying so hard to keep my impending breakdown under control. “Anti . . . anti-rejection.”
There. It’s out.
I watch his face as he continues to stare at me, and I wonder if he’s replaying our conversation so he can put the puzzle pieces together. Or attempt to.
“Anti-rejection . . . anti-rejection. What did Daisy mention about this bef . . .” And then there it is. Possibly some info his nurse-sister shared with him before, but something clicks. He shakes his head and rears back. “For an organ?”
A gasp escapes my mouth when he jumps up and begins to pace the room, his head tilted to the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head.
And I let him. I give him the time he needs to work through this. Allow him to make a decision on how to handle it.
When he stops and looks at me, his gaze is so tormented I’m unable to draw in my next breath. For so long, this man’s happiness kept me going. It fueled me, convincing me I made the right choice when I let him go. Seeing him like this hurts in so many ways that my insides feel stretched. Overdrawn to the point of excruciation. But isn’t that exactly what I deserve after leaving him all those years ago, after removing myself from a situation where I’d never see his pain?
“How long ago?” His voice is so low I can barely make out his words.
“A while ago.”
“Chloe.” His hands are shaking so hard by his sides, he balls them into fists. “How. Fucking. Long. Ago?”
I curl my hands into the comforter to keep them from trembling. “Ten years ago.”
“No. That can’t be true. No, no, no.” After one look at me—seeking confirmation once more—he turns and lets out a cry that I’d normally associate with a wounded animal. It’s so haunting, I feel it all the way to my core. My whole body is shaking as I track his movements, unable to look away from him.
And then he slams his fist into the wall before falling to his knees.
I startle and freeze, before my body jumps into reaction mode. I throw back the blanket and rush to his side, dropping down next to him. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?”
I try to get a look at his hand but he pulls it back, his gaze fixated downward.
“I’m fine.”
I press my lips together and sit down with my legs crossed. And then I wait.
He wasn’t supposed to find out today, and definitely not this way. The least I can do is follow his lead. He deserves that.
When his head slowly lifts after a few minutes, his eyes are glassy, making my own water in response. He wordlessly shakes his head like he’s still in denial. Then he pulls me onto his lap and holds me close. As close as anyone has ever held me in their life. Like his life depends on it.
I’m positive this must hurt his hand, but he doesn’t complain.
I lace my hands around his neck and he slouches forward, adding his weight to mine.
My whole world slows down when he places his head on my chest. He doesn’t move or say anything, but my heart stutters.
This
man.
This moment. This gesture.
After a long time of utter stillness, he touches my hips and beckons me to stand up.
Once he stands in front of me, he takes my hand and leads me to the bed.
His hands go to my waist and he lifts me onto the mattress before grabbing the hem of my shirt. He lifts it only a couple inches before he stops, looking at me. Waiting.
We didn’t get to the part where I was completely naked as we devoured each other. And I’d felt so . . . complete. But now . . .
“I need to . . . can I?” His eyebrows draw together in an anguished expression.
Since there’s no way I can push even a single letter past the knot in my throat, I nod and lift my arms above my head.
Inch by inch Noah uncovers my skin alongside my weaknesses. But if there’s one person in this world I want to see me completely the way I am, with all of my defects and imperfections, it’s this man.
There’s not an ounce of fear in my body over what he’ll think of my scars. One of the things I’ve learned is that no matter how perfect or imperfect your body is from the outside, if the inside doesn’t work, no amount of outer perfection will help, especially when it was all an illusion to begin with.
But I’ve also learned that my diagnosis has a severe impact not only on my present but also on my future. And that’s what scares me the most. That’s what stirs my decisions and what dictates how I live my life.
Having ripped away a life that I was once so sure of. What I once thought was an absolute, a sure thing, incapable of imagining a different scenario like the one I’m living now.
Noah tosses the shirt aside, and his hands settle on my bare thighs as he stares at my naked chest.
I straighten my spine and give him this moment. He deserves it. Heck, maybe we both deserve it.
I stay strong and upright even as I watch Noah’s face fall, as the worry lines on his forehead deepen, and his breathing speeds up.
He blinks a few times before averting his gaze to the floor. But not before I see the pain in his eyes, the pure devastation before his lips press together and he covers his mouth with his trembling hand.
Second Dive: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Kings Of The Water Book 3) Page 12
