Writing Mr. Right

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Writing Mr. Right Page 27

by T. K. Leigh


  He climbed onto the mattress, slinking up the length of my body. To my surprise, he pulled that blue necktie out of his pocket, a flirty expression on his face.

  “Told you we’d be putting this to use.” He winked, then lowered his head, kissing me. Confirming my suspicions he’d done this type of thing before, he effortlessly secured my wrists together with the tie and hoisted them over my head. He opened the nightstand drawer and removed an eye mask. “I’m glad I planned ahead,” he murmured as he slipped the mask over my head, shrouding my world in darkness.

  They say when one of your senses is impaired, it heightens the rest. That was certainly true. My sense of hearing and touch were amplified a hundredfold as the sound of our breathing grew more pronounced, the feel of his fingers delicately tracing down my body making me jump and writhe. I was exposed, vulnerable, completely at Noah’s mercy…and it was the best feeling in the world.

  Not being able to see made my skin come alive with awareness. I could feel the heat of Noah’s breath against my flesh as he seemed to travel around my body, a whisper from me. The anticipation made me want to combust.

  His lips hovered over mine, tickling my mouth. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Back?” I said in surprise. “Where are you going?”

  He kissed me softly. “To get something I think you’re really going to enjoy.”

  “Your cock is something I’d really enjoy. I don’t need anything else,” I panted with desperation.

  “You’re my masterpiece, Molly. I need to take the time to savor your perfection.”

  “Fuck,” I breathed, squirming into the mattress. “I’m pretty sure I just came again.”

  He chuckled. “My plan is to make you come over and over again all night long.” He placed a quick kiss on my lips, then I felt the mattress shift. His footsteps grew quiet, followed by the sound of our suite opening and closing. I had no idea how he could remain so composed when I was ready to fall apart. I squeezed my legs together, shifting and twisting to find some sort of relief from the dull throbbing. It didn’t work. I doubted anything would put out the fire Noah had kindled with his words, his body, his seduction.

  Finally, I heard the door open and close again, footsteps getting closer. Almost instantly, a familiar mouth was back on mine, his tongue invading me. “You look amazing like this,” Noah whispered. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.” He placed something heavy on the bedside table. I heard the sound of clothes rustling, then he climbed on top of me again. The feel of his flesh on mine sent me into overdrive.

  “Say you’re mine,” he said, his voice husky.

  “I’m yours,” I murmured.

  “God, I love hearing you say that.” He kissed me again, the passion in that one gesture stealing all my oxygen. Too soon, he pulled away, the sound of rattling ice making its way to my ears. Then I felt the heat of his breath on my chest. He dragged his tongue across my skin, pulling a nipple between his teeth.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked in a quiet voice, tugging and sucking on my breast.

  “Yes,” I answered. I would have confessed to taking the Lindberg baby just to feel that man.

  “Good.” I could hear the smile in his voice. Instantly, he pressed a cold object against my other nipple, his tongue still working on the one he had in his mouth. I moaned, arching my back off the mattress. I had no idea what to make of everything. There was something about the coldness of the ice on one nipple and the heat of Noah’s mouth on the other that made every inch of my body tighten with anticipation.

  Noah was an angel and the devil. He was fire and ice. He was my beginning and my ending.

  He ran the ice down my body, his talented tongue following in its wake, warming the frigid chill. My mind was a blank as I succumbed to the pure bliss rolling through my body.

  “Noah, please,” I begged. “I need to feel you.”

  “You do feel me.” He traced his tongue around my belly button.

  “No. Inside me. I can’t take it anymore.” Every second that passed without him giving me what I needed was pure torture. An ache I didn’t think could ever be satisfied consumed me.

  He shifted his weight and I heard the glorious sound of a packet ripping open. Finally, I felt him settle between my legs, pressing his erection against my aroused flesh. I braced myself. His mouth found mine, then he eased inside me. I swore I heard angels singing. Or perhaps I was moaning.

  His motions were gentle as he pushed into me, then withdrew. I would have given anything to reach out and touch him, to rake my fingers down his back, to feel his muscles as they rippled under my hands.

  “You’re incredible, Molly.” He buried his head in my neck, his teeth scraping my skin. “God, you have no idea how difficult this past month has been.”

  “I think I do,” I panted, wrapping my legs around his waist. “We could have done this weeks ago,” I reminded him.

  “No, we couldn’t.” He pulled back, continuing his tender motion. His fingers traced my face. When he removed the eye mask, I was treated to the sight of Noah hovering over me, a look of adoration in his gaze. “It wouldn’t have been like this, and this is fucking amazing.”

  His mouth captured mine as he reached up, loosening the tie around my wrists. I ran my fingers down his back, digging my nails in as I deepened the kiss, meeting his motions. Tightening my legs around his waist, I forced him onto his back, his eyes momentarily becoming wide with surprise, then turning hooded as I increased the rhythm.

  I leaned back, lost in the sensation of him filling me to the brim, a current running through me. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I was close to the edge of falling over.

  “Keep your eyes on me, Molly,” he murmured, his tone provocative.

  I returned my gaze to his. He reached up, brushing his hand against my cheek. I melted into him, marveling at how different he was from any other man I’d ever been with. He was selfless in the bedroom, making sure I felt just as much pleasure as he did. He knew precisely what to do to make me crumble into pieces, just as I was about to do at that moment.

  My breath hitched as I fought my impending orgasm. Noah sensed it and gripped my hips, driving into me with more intensity. He pressed his thumb against me. The feel of him rubbing me and moving inside me was my undoing. I moaned out his name just as he found his own release.

  I fell on top of him, both our bodies slick with sweat, my legs sore. My breathing still heavy, I raked my fingers through his hair, peppering kisses across his jawline.

  “Damn, Molly,” he crooned finally. Our chests heaved, the only sound in the room that of our labored breathing and the whirring of the air conditioner. I hoisted myself off him and lay on the bed beside him. He pulled me against his chest and I played with the little tufts of hair. “I hope it’s not rude of me to say, but I really like fucking you. You have no idea how hard it was for me not to come the second I was inside you.”

  Meeting his gaze, I smiled, giddy, lightheaded, sated. “I take that as a compliment.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE SMELL OF BACON AND freshly brewed coffee invaded my senses and I fluttered my eyes open. A subtle glow filled the modern bedroom with simple furnishings. My clothes lay crumpled in a ball on the floor, memories of the previous night flashing through my mind. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of falling asleep beside Noah…and all the benefits that went along with it.

  My stomach growled, the aroma of fried pig making me salivate. As much as I didn’t want to leave the bed, I was famished. Stepping onto the hardwood floor, I found Noah’s button-down shirt and put it on. I swam in it, but as I’d learned over the past few months, he loved when I wore his clothes. I loved wearing them, too, basking in his scent that was like an aphrodisiac to me.

  I padded out of his bedroom and down a set of stairs in the stunning colonial he owned in the Boston suburb of Melrose. It was September, and we had become nearly inseparable. We stayed at my apartment some nights, but I preferred Noah’s ho
use. As did Pee Wee, judging by the way my slobbery hound currently followed Noah around the kitchen, begging for table scraps.

  “Pee Wee, you’re underfoot,” he admonished. My dog simply lifted a paw, giving Noah that pathetic look no one with a soul could deny. Shaking his head, Noah grabbed one of the pieces of bacon and tossed it to him. I didn’t even think the dog chewed it before swallowing.

  I leaned against the doorway, just watching this beautiful man maneuver around the kitchen. He was truly a sight to behold. There was nothing sexier than a man holding a spatula, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.

  Before Noah entered my life, I would have turned my nose up at couples doing stupid couple things — having breakfast together, holding hands in public, feeding the ducks in the park, pretending they were tourists in the city they called home, and planning weekends away at a bed and breakfast. This was no longer the case. We’d become that cheesy couple I used to feel sorry for. I’d been convinced they were missing out on so much fun and excitement by committing themselves to each other. I’d shunned the idea of being in a serious relationship because I thought the adventure would end. I was so wrong. I’d never felt as fulfilled as I had these past few months.

  Noah was my perfect match in every sense of the word. He never turned his nose up when I suggested we do something crazy, like attend random open houses where we would use terms we’d learned from my complete obsession with home improvement television to comment on each house.

  “It’s a beautiful entrance, isn’t it, muffin?” he would say to me.

  “It certainly does make a statement, but I had hoped for something a bit grander, like at our summer home in the Hamptons.”

  “How many bedrooms does it have?” he would ask the realtor. “Because my wife has quite the appetite, if you know what I mean.”

  For the first time in my life, I was with someone who understood all my quirks and idiosyncrasies. We weren’t one of those boring couples I saw sitting across from each other at restaurants, discussing last night’s episode of Wheel of Fortune, not realizing they had absolutely nothing in common. Noah and I had fun and genuinely enjoyed each other’s presence. We didn’t have to sit at a stuffy restaurant and make small talk to learn about each other. There were no stilted conversations about our high school crush or our most embarrassing moment. None of that mattered. All I cared about was living in the now, not about what awaited me in the next hour, week, or year.

  Noah turned back toward the stove, and I took the opportunity to silently pad into his kitchen. Sneaking up behind him, I stood on my toes and wrapped my arms around his bare torso, planting kisses on his broad shoulder blades. I could feel him smile by the way his body relaxed into mine. Being in a relationship was a funny thing. I’d spent so much time with Noah, I could tell what expression he wore without even looking at him. And I knew, at this moment, he had a look of absolute peace and contentment on his face.

  “Morning,” he murmured, then slowly turned around.

  “Morning.”

  “I hope I didn’t wake you. I just figured you might be hungry after last night’s activities.” He winked.

  “You figured right.” I feathered my lips against his. “Although I would have rather had another taste of you first.”

  He moaned, deepening the kiss. “How about after?”

  “I can deal with that.”

  “Good. Now, go sit. Food’s almost ready.” His hand roamed down my side, then landed on my ass, giving it an unexpected squeeze. I squealed, then headed to a little breakfast nook just past his large eat-in kitchen. I lowered myself into one of the chairs at the bistro table, smiling to see he’d already prepared my coffee the way I liked it…just a hint of cream and no sweetener.

  Noah approached, carrying two plates of food. He placed one down in front of me, then sat opposite me.

  “Thanks for cooking.”

  “I love making you breakfast. Hope the eggs are to your liking.”

  I grabbed my fork and sliced into the egg, the yoke spreading all over my plate. “Extra runny, just how I like them.”

  We barely spoke as we ate our breakfast of eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Once we’d finished, Noah placed his napkin on his plate and met my eyes. He reached across the table, grabbing my hand. There was something new in his gaze. A ball of unease formed in my stomach.

  Over the past several months, we’d kept everything light and fun. There were no serious conversations about where our relationship was going. Now, as I saw the sincerity in his expression, felt the delicate way his thumb caressed my knuckles, I feared our relationship was about to turn down a road I wasn’t prepared for.

  “Molly,” he began, a look of peace on his face, at odds with the horror that filled me. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but I—”

  “Look at the time.” I jumped up from the table, tearing my hand from his. “Don’t you need to get to work soon? You cooked. I’ll clean up.” I hastily cleared the plates, feeling the heat of Noah’s gaze studying me as I rushed into the kitchen.

  I turned on the faucet, hoping the sound of the rushing water would drown out whatever he wanted to tell me. I knew what it was. Over the past several weeks, I’d used every trick in my book to evade this precise conversation. I saw it in his eyes. I felt it in the way he held me. I heard it in his voice. I just didn’t think I could bear to listen to those words fall too freely from his lips. It would change everything. Those three words had a tendency to destroy people.

  When I started seeing him, I knew this was a probability. I simply hoped it wouldn’t happen for a long time. Wasn’t there some sort of time requirement before being allowed to say those words? A few months wasn’t long enough. How could someone develop such strong feelings in such a short period of time?

  After rinsing the plates and putting them in the dishwasher, I went about wiping down the counters. But I could still feel Noah’s eyes watching my every move. I looked up to see him leaning against the island, his brow furrowed.

  “Molly,” he repeated, his voice soft.

  I bit my lip, desperate for a way out of this conversation yet again. In my experience, there was one thing that always worked.

  A sly smile crawling across my lips, I threw the dishtowel on the counter, then sauntered toward him, heat in my gaze. Raising myself onto my toes, I brushed my lips against his. He groaned, sneaking his hand beneath the shirt I wore, pressing me against him. He ran his hand up and down my side with light fingers. My flesh prickled with goosebumps.

  “I need to shower,” I murmured. “Care to join me?” I raised a brow, then retreated from him, swaying my hips as I walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. When I disappeared into the master bathroom, I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful to have successfully skirted the conversation I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to have.

  Shrugging out of Noah’s shirt, I stepped toward the glass shower, which could easily fit at least six people, and turned on the water. I knew I couldn’t avoid this discussion for much longer. I just needed time to wrap my head around what this would mean.

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even hear Noah approach as I stood with my eyes closed, my entire body taut. His hand brushed my hip, then he spun me around, his expression still too tender for my liking.

  “Molly, I—”

  Before he could say anything else, I forced my mouth against his. He stiffened momentarily before melting into the kiss. He pulled me toward him, our naked bodies flush with each other as steam filled the bathroom.

  With careful steps, he backed me into the shower. Our mouths never broke contact. The sensation of Noah’s lips on mine and the cascading water surrounding us made me crave him even more. I deepened the kiss, my nails digging into his back.

  He tore away from me, his chest heaving. When he stepped toward me, a carnal and fiery expression on his face, my heart raced. With each step he took, I retreated until my back hit the tile wall. The coolness momentarily soo
thed the heat burning inside me.

  With hooded eyes, he gripped my hips, then hoisted me up, forcing my legs around his waist. “Is this what you want?”

  I nodded, words escaping me.

  “You’re insatiable,” he murmured, his lips meeting mine once more as he slid into me.

  I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of fullness as he moved inside me. It didn’t matter how many times we’d done this, every time was new, unmatched, more pleasurable than the last. Being with Noah was an experience. One minute, he’d be the caring, compassionate man he was when I first met him as my father’s doctor. The next, he’d be ravenous, greedy, voracious, his carnal tone and rough, calloused hands bringing me higher than I thought possible. His appetite was just as ravenous as mine, and he always seemed to know exactly what I needed. Noah was a drug, and I an addict who would beg, steal, or maim someone just to get it.

  I used to have a plan, a schedule, a routine. I’d get up, wake Drew, have coffee, then write until it was time to visit my father. In the evening, if I felt like it, I’d see whomever my unknowing muse was at the time. Since Noah, that had all changed. There was no morning wakeup call for Drew. There was no coffee by myself. I rarely stepped foot in the café lately. I’d even convinced myself it wasn’t the end of the world if a day or two went by that I didn’t go visit my father.

  I’d become everything I swore I never would…a woman who made all her decisions based on someone else. I’d always been fiercely independent, but over the past several months, I’d become dependent on Noah for my happiness.

  “Look at me, Molly,” Noah said, breaking me out of my thoughts. His voice was soft, yet demanding.

  I met his gaze. His movements were gentle and well-choreographed, the emotion and depth in his eyes too much for me to handle. I forced his lips back to mine as I thrust against him, trying to pick up the pace. My body and motions pleaded with him to give me something else, something less meaningful, something less frightening.

 

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