Saving Noah

by Shandi Boyes

  When Emily straddles my lap, I can no longer resist temptation. I’m already going to hell, so I may as well have some fun before I get there.

  I bite down on her lip before grabbing a fist full of her silky locks. When my tongue delves into her delicious mouth, her moan has my cock wrangling against the zipper in my jeans, begging to be released.

  While I sample every inch of a mouth as sizzling as its owners face, Emily expresses her every want with her tongue, lips, and hands. She tells me how badly she wants this—how badly she wants me. It's a crazy, lust-filled embrace that has my cock begging to be freed from my jeans. I can feel her heat against me, its warmth raring up with every second we kiss. It’d be pure torture if it didn’t feel so good.

  When I adjust myself to ease the ache of my cock, the back of my hand rubs Emily’s panties. The tiny pair of panties she’s wearing can’t conceal her drenched state. She’s saturated, meaning it takes everything I have not to fuck this up. Whatever we’re stumbling toward isn’t anything I planned, but I’m learning that sometimes things are beyond my control. I’m finding myself thinking differently. Nothing drastic, just things aren’t as gloomy as they once seemed.

  But even if I were wearing rose-colored glasses, I still know I need to slow this down. When, and if, I have sex with Emily, it won’t be in my dirty truck on the side of a busy highway.

  As I said earlier, I’m not a complete fucking asshole.

  Pulling away from Emily’s lips is a torturous feat, but I do it—barely!

  Ignoring the pleas of my raging hard-on, I lift her off my lap and place her on the passenger side. The desire to pull her pouty lips back to mine intensifies when rejection sparks through her glistening eyes.

  Although I hate disappointing her, I’m shocked someone so beautiful would ever believe she’s being rejected. Her dress is pulled up high, exposing inches of her smooth thighs; she's breathing hard, thrusting her breasts up and down, and her lips are swollen from our kiss. She couldn’t be any more beautiful if she tried. Just looking at her has my cock begging to sink into her no doubt tight pussy.

  The downward curve of Emily’s lips morphs into a smirk when her eyes drop to my crotch. She's pleased with my body’s response to our kiss, and she’s not ashamed to admit it.

  Her smile turns into a giggle when I pull her across the cracked seat to nestle her under my arm. My truck’s engine roars to life when I plant my foot on the accelerator. When my tires fail to gain traction on the loose gravel, I panic, but it’s soon pushed aside when Emily’s lips rise against my chest.

  I knew she’d be more than I’d ever be able to handle.

  By the time we arrive at Bronte’s Peak, the parking lot is deserted. I check my watch, noting it’s almost three in the morning, meaning even the locals have called it a night.

  When I pull into an empty spot in the moonlit lot, Emily scoots across the seat. She cradles her legs in her arms before her eyes drift to me. The anxiety in them makes me wonder if she’s changed her mind about wanting me. She has gone from ravishing my mouth to sitting as far away from me as possible within a matter of seconds... My thoughts trail off when a disturbing notion pops into my head.

  “I didn’t bring you here to fuck you.” I sound like I’ve swallowed a handful of gravel. My voice is rough and raspy.

  I’ve been to Bronte’s Peak numerous times, so I know the reason teens come here after dark, but I’d never do anything she doesn’t want me to do. I’m not a fucking monster.

  Emily’s teeth drag over her lower lip, enhancing the plumpness our kiss initiated. “It’s not that.” She waves off my concern with a swipe of her hand. “I just realized I never asked if you have a girlfriend.”

  Although grateful she doesn’t think I’m trying to get into her panties, I’m still confused—and perhaps a little snippy. “Do you think I would have kissed you if I did?”

  Her assumption gives credit to what I was worried about. She doesn’t know me. Even though it’s been a very long time since I’ve had a girlfriend, I’m not a guy who cheats.

  “No...” She shakes her head, barely concealing her sigh. “I had to ask, though. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I’d just rather ask than wonder.”

  The apprehension in her reply awakens my suspicion. Her low tone has me wondering if she’s been duped before—quite possibly in the very spot we’re sitting. Her spikes didn’t hackle until we arrived here. The thought of anyone touching her makes my blood boil, but deep down, I know a girl as beautiful as her would never be untouched. She could have any man she wants. I don’t understand why she'd choose someone like me.

  In an attempt to lessen the tension between us, Emily lowers her legs before sliding across the bench seat, her vanilla smell getting stronger with every inch. I don’t know if it’s a perfume or the shampoo she uses, but it’s intoxicating. When the moonlight catches her face, it enhances her alluring features: her little turned-up nose, her light brown eyes, the softness of her plump lips. She's so youthful, I grow panicked she isn’t as old as I first thought.

  “How old are you?”

  My cock twitches when a traffic-stopping grin stretches across her face. “How old do you think I am?” She gives me a cheeky wink, her mood drastically improved from seconds ago.

  She was at an over-eighteen dance club, so she'd have to be a minimum of eighteen, making her only three years younger than me. “At least eighteen?”

  A lump lodges in my throat when she pulls a face. I stare at her, impatiently waiting for her to put me out of my misery. When she delays responding, I bang my head on the steering wheel.

  My head smacks the steering wheel harder when she murmurs, “Seventeen.”

  “Seventeen?!” I peer at her with wide, glossed-over eyes. “Does that mean you’re still in high school?!”

  My heart slithers into my gut when she nods.

  Fuck! The girl who hasn’t left my mind the past two months is precisely that—a girl! In high school! She has the body of an adult, but the way she acted tonight might have more to do with immaturity than jealousy.

  I stop looking for the police in my rearview mirror when Emily adds, “I turn eighteen in two days. Well, one day now, since it’s Sunday morning.” Her tone relays the pleasure she gets from teasing me. I’m glad she’s having fun, because I’m on the verge of a heart attack. “How old are you?”

  I peer at her with mischievous, panicked eyes. “What is this, twenty questions?”

  “Uh-huh,” is all she replies while folding her legs under her bottom.

  Thinking back to my birthday, I answer, “I turned twenty-one a few months back.”

  I thought your twenty-first was supposed to be a big deal, but other than Jacob and the guys from the band breaking out into a terrible rendition of “Happy Birthday” when I walked into Mavericks for a gig, my day passed without acknowledgment from anyone else.

  Realizing it’s my turn to ask a question, I lock my eyes with Emily. “My turn to interrogate.” She smiles, not missing the playfulness in my tone. “How did you get into the club tonight if you aren’t eighteen?”

  Isaac would never allow someone under eighteen into his club; he'd never risk losing his license—not even for a woman who captivated him as quickly as Emily did. Jesus. Imagine the backlash he could have faced if things went further between them tonight? I shouldn’t be smirking at the thought, but I am. Serves him right for touching someone who doesn’t belong to him.

  The clench of my jaw eases when Emily giggles, swiping the agitation from my veins as quickly as it formed. She might have used Isaac to get us here, but I’m keeping her here.

  “If you tell her, I’ll kill you.” She waits, building the suspense. “I borrowed my sister’s ID. Tonight was the first time it worked with ease.”

  My brow becomes lost in my hairline. Is sneaking into clubs something she does often?

  My chance to ask is lost when she remembers it’s her turn to ask a question. “What are you doing right
now?”

  I give her a frisky wink, revealing the cocky bastard hiding behind my dimpled grin. “Talking to a beautiful lady.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she slaps my arm. Okay, I’ll admit, that was corny as fuck, but if acting like a dickhead makes her smile the way she is now, I’ll happily wear the title.

  “I meant, do you go to college or work?”

  I smirk, aware of what she was asking. "I'm working, if you can call it that."

  Her brows stitch, confused by my reply.

  I try to alleviate it. “I’m the lead singer of a band my friends Slater, Marcus, and I formed in high school. It kept us out of trouble... for the most part.” She smiles along with me. “You can’t get into too much mischief when your weekends are tied up rehearsing instead of partying like our peers did.”

  I watch her closely, gauging her reaction to me not being in school. I’m pleased to say the expression on her face remains neutral. Come to think of it, she also looks a little excited.

  “Once we had a few years under our belts, we added a lead guitarist to our lineup, then not long after that, we secured our first paid gigs. A majority of our performances were birthday or engagement parties, but within two years we scored a regular spot at Mavericks.”

  I chuckle when I think back to how we got our start. “We were mortified when we got stuck with the horrible Tuesday night schedule. Our night was spent singing 80s covers to a bunch of old ladies who finished their day at bingo with a glass of chardonnay at their local watering hole.”

  A beautiful giggle spills from Emily’s kiss-swollen lips at the gag coming with my words.

  “Once we showed initiative, we worked our way up to the Friday night spot. We now pick the genre of music we play, and Ollie lets us perform two original songs a night. We don’t get paid a lot, but it’s enough to get by...” I stop talking, worried I’ve said too much. I’ve never spoken so openly before.

  Emily doesn’t seem to mind. Her smile reveals she appreciates my frankness—and she’s eager for me to ask my next question. She’s enjoying this communication thing we’ve got going on way too much for my liking, but there’s no chance in hell I’ll end it. I have her sole attention. I’m not giving this up for anything.

  As I scan the deserted parking lot of Bronte’s Peak, the perfect question pops into my head. “Have you been here before?”

  The color in Emily’s cheeks drains as her eyes rocket to the foggy window next to her head. She silently contemplates, her chest rising and falling as she sucks in sharp breaths.

  Just when I think she’ll never answer me, she whispers, "Yes."

  Chapter 11

  Emily

  I knew the instant I blurted out Bronte’s Peak Noah would ask this question. Bronte’s Peak has been the top choice for teens wanting to get hot and heavy after a date for years. This is the exact location I discovered princes can turn into frogs after kissing them.

  The excitement I felt two years ago when I was asked out by a senior every girl in our school had a crush on was immense. I thought I hit the jackpot.

  I was a naïve idiot.

  On paper, Zander was the epitome of the beloved star quarterback. He had long brown hair, washboard abs from the hours he spent surfing, and an ability to lie to my face without a bit of remorse crossing his.

  He was damn near perfect... until he got what he wanted.

  If I were smart, I would have gone home with Jenni when our double date with Zander and his best friend Christian ended. Unfortunately, I was too caught up in the hoopla of being wanted by the most popular guy in school to see the slimy frog hiding beneath Zander’s shiny exterior.

  I paid for my mistake dearly.

  Not only did I lose my virginity in the back of a dirty old van with surfboards strapped to the roof, I threw myself headfirst into a controversial shitstorm I’m still struggling to find my way out of two years later.

  Zander had a girlfriend.

  She was a senior at an all-girls school that bordered our hometown. Although she didn't go to our school, it didn't take long for news of my "supposed" slutty ways to circulate between my peers. The Monday morning following the "incident" between Zander and me, I was bombarded without warning. I was slut-shamed, belittled, and attacked viciously by not only Zander's girlfriend, Becky, but by numerous senior girls as well.

  I can still recall how badly my scalp stung when Becky wrenched my hair out of my head as she called me a whore in front of the entire school. Do you know what Zander did during her attack? Nothing. Not a single thing. He watched from the sidelines as if I had seduced him, where all I did was believe him when he told me I was the most perfect girl he’d ever seen.

  He was my childhood crush, yet all I got for my admiration was hate from those around me. I’m extremely lucky I had the support of Jenni and Nicole. I truly don’t know how I would have survived without them. High school is bad enough, let alone when you’re labeled the town slut.

  Zander was the first and last man I ever dated. Up until now, I’ve been too scared to trust anyone. Some of my boldness the past few months could be attributed to the fact Becky broke up with Zander because his philandering was too frequent for her to blame the unsuspecting females he liaised with, but most of it can be attributed to Noah.

  His texts and phone calls were as cryptic as the man I met in the hall, but they were full of honesty. He never promised a lifetime commitment or made out I was everything he ever wanted. More times than not, his messages conveyed he was as nervous about sending them as I was about responding to them. That made it seem like I was playing on a level field instead of in a stadium filled with vicious, backstabbing people determined to take me down.

  I liked the way Noah looked at me in the hallway of my family home—not when I thought he was my sister’s date, the seconds leading to me closing the door. I’d give anything to replace the stare he’s giving me now with the one he awarded me three months ago, because this one is nowhere near as fire-sparking.

  Chapter 12

  Noah

  After swiping at her cheeks to make sure none of the moisture in her eyes has fallen, Emily alters the course of our conversation. “Can I watch your band play sometime?”

  I hardly know her, but I already know she wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s doing anything she can to sidestep the can of worms my question opened. Although I’m itching to beat the fuck out of whoever caused her such heartache, I place the urge on the backburner.

  We’re only just getting to know each other, so I’m not going to force her to tell me what happened. Once I’ve gained her trust, she’ll open up to me. Until then, I’ll continue our game of twenty questions while pretending the vein throbbing in my neck is natural.

  “I’d love nothing more than for you to watch me perform.”

  Hearing something I didn't mean to express, she smiles. When I scoot across the bench, her heavy-lidded eyes drop to my lips. The hurt clouding her eyes fades the closer I get. I had planned to tell her it was her turn to ask a question. Now I have other ideas on my mind—these ones aren’t as noble.

  When I tilt my head to align our lips, Emily licks hers in preparation for our kiss. Her pulse flutters against my fingertips when I grip her nape so I can pull her mouth to mine. Kissing her the second time is even better than the first. I’ve got all the control this time around, which means my tongue has no trouble sampling every inch of her delicious mouth.

  I take my time savoring her delicious mouth, nipping at her lips before stroking my tongue inside her mouth in long, dedicated sweeps. Our kiss barely surpasses a PG rating with our hands at respectable levels at all times, but it doesn't need additional stimulation. It's fire-sparking as it is.

  A few minutes later, with reluctance, I withdraw from our embrace. Emily’s eyes remain closed, as uneager to return to reality as I am. I watch her brush her fingers over the cupid’s bow in her top lip before her eyes slowly flutter open. Upon spotting my envious gawk, she smiles a breathtakingl
y gorgeous grin potent enough to bring the strongest man to his knees.

  Unable to resist the temptation for a second longer, I pull her mouth back to mine. Just as our lips brush, the shrill of a cell phone fills the dead silence surrounding us.

  Recognizing the ringtone, Emily yanks back. “Shit! I forgot to message them.” As her gaze widens in shock, she snatches her purse off the floor, undoes the zipper, then yanks out a vibrating phone. Fumbling, she raises it to her ear. “Hello?”

  Her apologetic eyes dart to mine when a girly squeal roars down the line. “I'm all right... Yes, I know... I’m sorry, I forgot... No, I’m not home yet... I’m a little busy at the moment.”

  An ear-piercing, “What?!” shrieks through her phone speaker.

  It's so loud, Emily yanks her phone away from her ear, tugs on her earlobe, then reattaches her cell. “Ssh...” She peers at me remorsefully. “I’ll tell you later... I’m fine...Noah will take me home... Yes, that Noah... Nicole... Okay, bye... Love you too.”

  Although I only get one side of her conversation, I can’t help the smile stretching across my face. Any heartbreak our kiss didn’t take care of, Emily’s caller wiped from her face. She smiles a blistering grin while switching off her phone and placing it back in her purse.

  After dumping it on the floor of my truck, her amused eyes meet mine. “Sorry about that. That was my friend Nicole. I was at the club with her and Jenni tonight. I told her I’d text the instant I got home. I kind of forgot.” The guilt crossing her face enlarges my smile. I can't blame her for being ditzy. My mind went a little hazy after our kiss as well. “Nicole can be a little high strung. I’m shocked the late hour didn’t have her sending out a search party.”