Intimate Friends

by Claire Matthews

  “Noah! C’min,” she cried, taking another hearty sip of her gin and tonic, wondering why her tongue suddenly felt so swollen. Noah eyed her warily.

  “Whoa, are you okay? What are you drinking?” he asked, taking the glass from her hand and sniffing it. His eyes widened. “Is this straight gin?” He took a cautious sip, and his face twisted into a comical grimace. “Oh God, that’s like paint thinner, Emma. Are you okay, did something happen?” His eyes were sweet and concerned, and for some reason they held her gaze for longer than they should have. It was the damn eyelashes.

  “I’m fine, fine, jus’ felt like havin’ a little drinky-drink before dinner.” She grinned. He still looked worried as they walked towards the kitchen, and he unpacked the groceries he’d brought while she sat on the edge of the counter, her legs swinging rhythmically, bumping her heels against the cabinets underneath.

  “What made you decide to propose to Jenny?” she asked suddenly. Noah stopped short, and looking at her with piercing eyes.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. I mean, what makes a man fall so deeply in love that he proposes marriage? Is there a moment when he knows it’s time? Did you just think to yourself one day, ‘Man, that Jenny Dawson, she may be a bossypants, but she’s the one I want to share my life with, have sex with, make babies with, until the day I die.’ Or was it more gradual than that?”

  “I proposed to Jenny because she told me to,” he said evenly. “I did everything she told me to do. It was kind of an issue in our marriage,” he said dryly. “Why the sudden interest in proposals?” She shrugged her shoulders, looked down at her lap. “Just tell me, Em, I know something’s up.”

  She sighed, and her legs stopped swinging. “I saw Greg and his skank at Village Coffee this afternoon. She was sporting two enormous fake boobs, and one enormous engagement ring.”

  Noah’s mouth made a perfect circle, and he executed a silent “ooohh”. His eyes were sympathetic, and she found herself instantly defensive.

  “And I’m not jealous. And I’m not still in love with him. Okay?” She stared at him defiantly, her chin set hard.

  “Okay, then why are you so upset?”

  “What makes you think I’m upset?” she scoffed.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re boozin’ it up at five o’clock on a Sunday afternoon?” He grinned a bit to take the bite out of his words. She sighed again, and dropped her gaze back to her knees.

  “I’m just—” She paused, taking another sip of her drink. “I’m just…wondering if there’s anyone out there who will ever love me enough to—" She was mortified to find that tears were blurring her vision, and her throat was dangerously tight.

  “Emma,” he whispered, moving slowly toward her.

  “Ugh, please don’t.” She half laughed, half sobbed, jumping down from the counter and turning her back to him. “God, could I be more pathetic? Just forget I said anything. Let’s make dinner.” She opened the refrigerator, but he moved behind her and closed it with an arm over her shoulder. Then he spun her around to face him.

  “Let’s get one thing straight first,” he said, his voice low and gentle, his breath soft against her face. “You are a beautiful, amazing, sexy woman. Any man would be lucky to have you.” His glasses slid down his nose, and before he could push them back up, Emma pulled them from his face and set them on the countertop, their eyes still locked. And suddenly Noah wasn’t her geeky best friend at all, but a man whose eyes trapped her, whose smell intoxicated her, whose full lips made tingly shivers run down her spine. She leaned forward slightly, and he froze, his eyes flashing with sudden comprehension.

  “Emma, wait—“ But her lips cut him off, and then they were kissing. Or rather, she was kissing, and he was backing away, until he hit the wall behind them, and grabbed her upper arms, separating their bodies.

  “Em, you’re drunk…” he warned, in a low, quivering voice.

  “Not that drunk.” She reached for him again, and he scooted to his side, avoiding her arms.

  Ouch. “Umm, okay…I’m sorry. I guess this kind of shoots holes your theory about me being sexy,” she murmured, crossing her arms awkwardly over her chest. “But you’re right, of course. I mean, this is crazy. I—“

  Noah grabbed her, dragged her up against his firm chest, and proceeded to kiss her so thoroughly that she decided all previous kisses in her life had been silly, sloppy efforts, lost in the shadow of his mind-numbing worship of her mouth. Her entire body shot to life, pulse quickening, nerve-endings humming, fingers rising and anchoring in his soft curls.

  She moaned, and he shifted, and then she was fumbling with his shirt, and he was fumbling with hers, and then their bodies were touching, skin to skin, and she had never, ever, been so turned on in her life. The fact that this was Noah turning her on, leaning to tongue her nipple through the slick silk of her bra, clutching her hips and pressing his arousal firmly against her, was too surreal to even think about. So she didn’t.

  "Emma...you feel so good," he groaned into her mouth. She let out a tiny whimper in response, unable to speak. His hands moved slowly up her sides, and her body melted into his. He slid his hands around her and lifted her in his arms, still kissing her, hard and wet. Her legs wrapped around him instinctively, and she realized that this position made up for their height difference, allowing her hips to fit squarely over his. The both seemed to recognize this new friction at the same moment, as he tore his lips from hers and attacked her neck, spreading hot kisses over her collarbone as her head arched back sharply.

  His feet started to move beneath them, and then they stopped. Then started and stopped again. Emma's head lifted to see his brow furrowed, his face unsure.

  "Bedroom," she gasped, kissing the worried wrinkles from his forehead. So he carried her to the bedroom.

  Chapter Four

  They fell on her bed, and Noah ran a shaky hand down her side, suddenly paralyzed with fear. How had this happened? Should he let it happen? Emma was drunk, and clearly upset about seeing Greg. An honorable man would keep his distance. But it was damn hard to be honorable with her knee nudging his legs apart and her hand scraping down his bare chest, making him shiver with terrified desire. They made quick work of their clothes, and rolled towards each other, wearing nothing but boxers and panties. She lifted her face, placed her lips on his neck, moaned his name...and then he was gone.

  Eyes tightly shut, Noah felt her hands wander down his slick back, felt her reach under the waistband of his boxers, felt her grab his ass firmly and push him against her. He gasped as she slipped one hand around to the front of his boxers and wrapped it around his cock, hard and hot in her cool hand. Her thumb wandered to his tip, rubbing it slowly, torturously, and suddenly he wasn't afraid anymore, because wherever this was going, he desperately wanted to get there.

  "Em," he groaned, but it was more like a choked sigh, and she pushed his boxers down slowly with one hand, maintaining her grip on him, while he slid her panties off in a fevered daze. He felt himself dripping with excitement, because this was Emma, and he loved her, and he wanted her, more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything in his life. And he had to kiss her, so he shifted her, maybe a bit too roughly, and took her mouth with his, meeting her tongue with heat and passion and need, biting at her lips, and letting out a shocked grunt when she bit back. She moaned his name again, and oh Jesus...he was so hard that he was worried he would come right there, right then, in her hand, and he couldn't...

  "Em, wait," he cried hoarsely. She stopped, stunned, and looked at him with huge, surprised eyes.

  "What?" she whispered . She seemed confused, and breathless.

  "I...I'm sorry," he gasped. "I just...I didn't want to...ohmygodyou'resohot..." The words tumbled from his lips.

  She climbed back up his body, pressed herself against his chest, and whispered hotly in his ear. "What you just said...say it again."

  "You...are so...hot," he growled slowly in her ear, and he grabbe
d her hips and pressed her firmly against him, running his hand over her, biting and sucking the sensitive skin on her neck, her shoulder, her breasts. He laid her back and ran his hand down, between her legs, because he couldn't wait anymore, and she was soaking wet. Noah slipped a finger inside her and felt her drip down his hand, and it made him dizzy with desire.

  "Noah," she groaned, pumping her hips against his hand. He moved down her body, his finger still deep inside her, licking a trail down her stomach, and lower, lower still, until he was kissing the soft, warm skin of her inner thighs. She wasn't stopping him, oh my god, she most definitely was not stopping him, and he could taste her already, her wetness, on his hand, on her own thighs, and he moved up and tongued her once, gently, and felt her gasp run through her entire body.

  "Emma, oh my god you taste so good...so good," he murmured, and his tongue teased her, giving her time to get used to this new feel, this new connection. He let his eyes roam up, and saw that she had covered her cheeks with her hands, and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, but her hips still beckoned him, her legs spread wide, so he continued his explorations, his finger still deep inside her, lapping slowly, softly, until he flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue, once, and her hips jerked so hard she almost broke his nose.

  "Oh!" she chirped, high and hard, and he did it again, then again, then planted his lips and kissed her, and sucked lightly. God he couldn't believe he was doing this, and he'd wanted to for so long, and she was so beautiful, and tasted so sweet, and her cries made him so hard that he had to reach down and grab himself, squeeze tightly, slow down, slow down...

  "Noah...Noah...Noah," Emma chanted, almost incoherently. He lifted his head because now her hand was anchored tightly in his curls and she was pulling, hard, and ouch, holy crap!

  "C'mere," she groaned, and when he hesitated she ordered c'mere!, and then he moved, up her body, slipping his finger from her, her hand still painfully stuck in his hair. He leaned over and kissed her, and he felt her body tense with shock, and he knew why, because his mouth and lips and chin were covered with her, slick and wet. But he kept on kissing her, trying to distract her from her squeamishness, because the thought of sinking his tongue in her mouth, covered with her juices, was just...ohmygod, and he was being selfish, yes, definitely very selfish, but she had not asked him to stop. Of course he would stop if she asked, and in fact he kept waiting for her to, but she never did.

  "Please," she murmured against his lips, grabbing blindly at his bare hips, clamping him against her with her knees. "God, oh god, please," she cried, and she balled up her fist and hit his arm in frustration.

  "Please what?" he asked in a low voice. She was so sexy, so wet and ready for him, and it was maddening, really, because under all the lust and heat and alcohol he felt such a rush of love, and tenderness. She was so...cute...all worked up and frustrated, like a kid who wants something, both passionately and innocently, and then all his selfishness went away, and he just wanted to please her.

  She knew what she wanted, of course, they both knew it, both wanted it, but for some reason she couldn't, wouldn't say it.

  "Emma, do you want me inside you? Do you want me to fuck you?" He panted hotly in her ear, and she nodded her head eagerly against his cheek. He grabbed her hand and wrapped it firmly around his cock, and she moved him quickly to her, against her wet lips, and guided him in. He sunk inside her slowly, inch by inch, until his teeth hurt from clenching them so tightly. When he was finally buried in her, he began to rock slowly, enveloping her, his chest never losing contact with hers, his hips rubbing against her rhythmically. And it felt good, and she felt good, and he never wanted to come. He just wanted to rock like this forever, with Emma in his arms, so he could give her pleasure, and receive from her in return.

  But soon he felt her stomach tense under his, and felt her knees inch up his sides, and heard her hold her breath in. He whispered "breathe" in her ear, and ground himself deep in her, rubbing against her, firm and steady, until she came. Oh shit she came so hard, and her cries made him whimper in answer to her release, because she was so beautiful when she came. It made him pump into her, desperately now, wincing with need, kissing her hungrily, greedy again, until he spilled into her, groaning so loudly that his voice broke in the quiet of the bedroom.

  He caught his breath, and flipped to his back, and cradled her against his chest, her head resting heavily on his shoulder, one leg slung lazily over his thighs. And suddenly he had a million things to tell her...how he loved her, needed her, how the thought of her leaving next month made him sick with dread...but she was gone, totally asleep, one of those deep sleeps after alcohol and sex where your body is heavy, rubbery, boneless. So he covered her gently with the bedspread they'd nearly kicked off the mattress, and gazed at her face, so dear to him now that he couldn't imagine not knowing it, not knowing her, not loving her. He hugged her close, and heard her hiccup. It was cute, it made him grin, and then he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Emma walked slowly from her car, squinting painfully against the morning sun as she stumbled over a dip in the parking lot. She was late (as usual), hungover, and thoroughly freaked out. If she wasn't giving an exam in her British Lit class, she would have called in sick. As it was, she was present in body only.

  Would Noah be waiting for her at her office door? What in the hell was she supposed to say to him? What in the hell had happened? She'd awakened at 1:00 am the night before, and he was gone. If it hadn't been for the smell of sex surrounding her, and the delicious soreness between her legs, she would have sworn it was all a dream. And what a dream. She had never, ever felt like that with another man. Was it the alcohol? Surely not--she'd had sex after a few drinks before, but never, ever like this.

  Was it Noah?

  God, this could not be happening. He was her best friend. Her Best. Friend. How could she ruin that by sleeping with him? Why did she have to screw up the one decent relationship in her life?

  As she entered the building and rounded the corner to her office, she was both relieved and disappointed to see that the hallway was empty. She sighed heavily, and jammed her key in her office door. She was late, very late, so there was no time to try to analyse whether she was happy to avoid him or not. She dumped her purse, grabbed her papers and books, and scurried down the hall towards her classroom. One quick stop in the break room to refresh her coffee.

  Noah. Standing by the coffeepot. He knew she'd stop there if he didn't deliver a fresh cup to her office.

  “Noah,” she said dumbly, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. “Morning.”

  “Morning.” His voice was soft, and he looked wary. His glasses slipped down his nose, but he didn't even bother to push them up. “How are you feeling?”

  “Umm...like I was hit by a truck?” She brushed past him to grab the coffeepot off the counter. She filled her cup, sloshing a bit in her haste. He grabbed a paper towel and handed it to her, never wavering in his gaze. She wiped away the spill, and then took a deep, fortifying breath before facing the proverbial music.

  “Look, I know this is awkward. We can do a post-mortem after school, or maybe at lunch...no, no, wait, not lunch, I've got--”

  “A dentist's appointment,” he finished. She nodded, then closed her eyes briefly. This was just weird. The guy who made her come three times last night should not know this much about her oral hygiene.

  “I'm sorry,” she mumbled.

  “For what?”

  “I don't know.” She didn't know.

  “Emma,” he moved closer, and she felt her heart begin to flutter, from nerves, from embarrassment, from the memory of what they'd done the night before. He reached to brush her hair behind her ear. The touch of his fingers against her cheek sparked the memory of those same fingers, teasing her nipples, grazing down her ribcage, slipping between her legs, then reaching up to paint her mouth with her own slick wetness. Holy crap. She needed to go to class.

  “Noah, I'
ve got to go. So do you. We're late.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay.” He squeezed her shoulder gently, then leaned forward until his lips were almost touching her ear. “But for what it's worth...I'm not sorry.” And then he turned his head and kissed her. It was a dirty trick, right in the middle of the break room, where anyone could walk in. But she couldn't help kissing him back, smelling his scent, familiar as always, but now somehow new--it made her shiver. But when she finally leaned into him, to steady herself, to let him steady her, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and moved her back, just an inch. Then he placed one final, close-mouthed kiss on her primed lips. “Have a nice class, Emma.” Then he turned and walked away. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Then opened and closed it again. Giving up, she crossed her arms, rubbing the skin that Noah had just touched. And she was ten minutes late for class.

  ****

  Noah slung his briefcase over his shoulder as he closed and locked his office door, happy to be leaving. It had been a long, tense day, but he was free this afternoon—no math club, no papers to grade, no after-school meetings. He couldn't wait to get to Emma's office, drag her away from whatever packing or organizing project she was no doubt enmeshed in, and talk. Really talk. He was going to tell her how he felt, tell her he loved her, beg her not to go to London, and then...well, worst case scenario, she freaked out and their friendship was over. But he couldn't go on like this. Last night wasn't supposed to happen, but it did, and dammit, he couldn't go back to being just friends now.

  As he approached her office, his steps faltered, and he stopped suddenly. At the end of the deserted hall of lockers, he saw Emma, talking earnestly with a student. He couldn't remember her name—Katy? Kristin?--she wasn't in his class, but she looked familiar…awkward, tall, braces…definitely not one of the popular kids. She was crying, and Emma was talking softly, a bottle of cleanser in her hands, a roll of paper towels tucked under her arm. A second look revealed that her locker had been vandalized—he saw the scrawled words and crude pictures across the metal door, and as Emma continued talking, she began spraying the locker with cleanser, unrolling paper towels and scrubbing vigorously.