by Gina Azzi
He gazes down at my naked body and back to my face. “Ever?”
I shake my head.
“Good. I’ve never enjoyed making a woman come apart the way I do you, baby.” He brushes my hair back from my forehead. “Fucking desperate to get inside you, Indy. Thought about this since I looked up at the game and saw you sitting in the box. But we don’t have to do—”
“I want to,” I cut him off.
Noah brushes a kiss over my lips before pushing my knees up to my sides. He lines up at my entrance. Glancing at me, he slides inside and my eyes roll back in my head. For the first time ever, there’s nothing between us and it feels incredible.
“Fuck, you feel like heaven, Indy.” His voice is strained as he slides back before pushing into me again.
I force my eyes open, holding his gaze. His eyes are darker than midnight but something new shimmers around the edges.
“Tell me what you want, Little Indy.”
“Make me feel everything, Noah.”
He drops down and swipes a kiss across my mouth. “It’d be my pleasure, baby.”
He gives me everything and more. As his mouth takes mine and he works a steady rhythm between us, my body craves his. For the first time ever, I think I truly understand addiction.
I’ll never get enough of Noah Scotch.
Not when he makes my body tighten and shatter.
Not when he makes my skin ache and shiver.
Not when he makes my mind simultaneously quiet and overflow.
And definitely not when he makes my heart flutter and yearn.
I cry out again with Noah swearing my name shortly afterwards.
As I come down from the greatest sex I’ve ever had in my life, fear fills my stomach. Now that Noah is in my life, I know it will never be the same again.
But how long will he stick around for?
18
Noah
I’ve been waking up with Indiana in my bed for weeks now, but today, it feels different. In a good way. But still, I don’t know what the hell to make of it.
When she rolls over and I feel her warmth press into my skin, my hands want to slide over her curves and claim her all over again. The realization settles like a stone in my stomach. This is not me. With most morning-afters, I’m out of bed and out for a run with the sunrise. With Indy, I’m up, showered, and popping a Nespresso pod into the machine. But this morning, I don’t make a move to do any of those things.
And I definitely never say shit like, “Hey, want to grab brunch?”
Indy rubs the sleep from her eyes, her hair spread over my pillow like a fan. “I love brunch.”
Of course she does. She loves everything and being with her is as easy as breathing. I don’t even have to think about it.
“I know a place,” I say instead, pulling myself from the cocoon of blankets we wrapped ourselves in last night, sheltered from the world. A time-out that let me focus on the feel of Indy’s long legs wrapped around my torso and the sweet sounds that fall from her lips instead of the away game I have this week in Cleveland.
“Cool.” She throws off the comforter and swipes her purse off the floor. The bathroom door closes several minutes later and I let out a long exhale.
Bracing my elbows against my knees, I drop my head in my hands and try to regroup. Last night was fun. It was hot. It was fucking sexy as hell; Indy’s sexy as hell. But it was also different from any of the other times we’ve hooked up. Something between us shifted. Something changed.
But what?
This morning, Indy seems fine. She’s not acting weird or clingy or anything. In fact, she seems to be a hell of a lot cooler than me.
I hear the toilet flush and the faucet turn on. Several minutes later, Indy pulls open the door. Her face is bare, her hair pulled into a messy bun. She’s wearing her jeans from last night and buttoning up the sweater that I wanted to rip off of her body all night. She doesn’t look like she’s doing a walk of shame. She doesn’t look nervous. She just looks…normal.
I stand and pull a pair of sweats and a hoodie from my dresser. “It’s just around the corner.”
“Sounds good.” She smiles, sliding the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Ah, wait, I left my coat at the bar last night.”
“I got you, babe.” I bundle her up in one of my thicker hoodies, liking the way it looks hitting her mid-thigh. I roll the sleeves up on her arms, grinning at how damn adorable she looks. And how much I like seeing her rock my number.
We head outside and I tuck Indy under my arm as the cold wind whips against us. Everything between us screams more than “just friends” and yet, I can’t bring myself to bring it up.
Our arrangement is easy. It’s working. It’s fun and I like hanging out with her. Why the hell would I rock the boat now?
I guide her toward the restaurant. The wind makes talking nearly impossible so we hustle along in silence. Once we’re tucked into a back booth, Indy slides off my hoodie and moans when the server drops a carafe of coffee on our table.
I grin.
“What?” She raises an eyebrow, pouring our coffees. “You kept me up late. The need for caffeine is real.”
I chuckle, nudging the cream closer to her. “It was worth it.”
She nods coyly, lifting her mug toward mine and clinking it in cheers. “Definitely worth it.”
“Indy, you are the coolest girl I know,” I tell her, taking a sip of the hot coffee.
“What do you mean?”
“Just, God, any other girl would have a million and one expectations after these past few weeks.” I clear my throat, not knowing how to address all the thoughts swirling in my mind. “Especially after last night,” I tack on, wanting to feel her out. Did she feel the shift between us too? Was there even a shift if only one of us felt it? “But you, you’re just—”
“Normal.”
“Chill,” I settle on. “I like how much fun we have together without all the drama bullshit.”
She bites her bottom lip, a strand of uncertainty rippling over her face, before she nods. I frown, wondering if I’ve offended her. I lean forward and touch her wrist but before I can say anything, she says, “I know what you mean. The only other time I tried casual, the guy, Chris, had all of these other ideas and assumptions and it sort of ruined our time together.”
Well, that sours my mood. “Chris?” I ask, wondering who the hell he is.
She wrinkles her nose and nods. “It was right before I moved here. It was stupid; we knew it wouldn’t amount to anything. My best friend found the whole thing highly entertaining, especially after Chris insinuated he would visit Boston.” She rolls her eyes.
I swallow, sliding my hand back across the table. Of course Indy dated and had relationships, serious and not. Six months ago, I was going to walk down the damn aisle. Still, it stings to think of her with other men. In fact, it bothers me more than thinking of Courtney with her lawyer husband.
That realization is unsettling and I sit back in my chair, the weight of the morning coming down on my shoulders. What the hell is going on?
The server appears to take our order and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Indy orders French toast, I ask for whole grain pancakes, and we both pick up our coffee mugs.
I glance at Indy over the rim of my mug. Her green eyes are bright and glittery. She stares back with a coy smile playing over her lips.
When I place down my coffee mug, she laughs and I lean forward again, desperate to know whatever is going on in her head.
“Noah,” she says.
I nod.
She gestures between us. “I know we don’t normally do this type of thing.”
I frown. “Eat?”
She rolls her eyes. “Morning-after breakfast.”
I bite my tongue, both wanting and not wanting to know what she’s going to say because somehow, I feel like it’s going to change things. And I’m not sure if I want things to change or stay exactly how they are. I mean, they’re good, right? I clear
my throat. “I promised to show you the other side of Boston.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Is this it?” She glances around the quiet restaurant, a far cry from the bustling brunch scene over in Back Bay.
Still, her expression breaks some of the ice forming in my chest and I let out a chuckle. Placing my palms up, I tip my head in acknowledgement. “All right, Little Indy, you got me. This wasn’t my best show of Boston’s brunch scene.”
She snorts, leaning closer until the table cuts into her chest. The soft swell of her breasts push up underneath her sweater and I remember the way they fit so perfectly in my hands last night.
I drag my gaze back up to her eyes. Indy shoots me an amused look but her eyes flare with heat and I realize why I don’t do morning brunch with Indy. She’s too goddamn tempting.
Our server drops off our breakfast dishes and Indy’s face lights up like a little kid at Christmas. She cuts into her French toast, moaning appreciatively. I stare at her.
How the hell did this happen? Of course I knew from the moment I saw her again that I was drawn to her. I can admit that she’s gorgeous, intelligent, quick, and funny.
After Courtney, I never expected to feel so much for another woman in such a short amount of time. If I’m being honest with myself, things with Indy are completely different than they were with Courtney. In some ways, I already feel more for Indy, want more with her.
How long can we keep doing this delicate dance before one of us gets hurt?
I told Indy to be straight with me but here I am, watching her eat French toast like she’s a marvel of the modern world. Who’s the one not being straight now?
I don’t date hockey players.
For the first time since Indy dropped that detail, it bothers me. I used to think those were the greatest words she could have told me.
Now, I really wish she’d amend them and tell me something else entirely.
19
Indy
“You look exhausted,” Claire comments as I unwind my scarf from around my neck.
I groan, hanging my coat in the hall closet. “I am. I’ve been fighting a sore throat and sinuses.” I throw my hand in the air. “I always get like this during midterms. I just started a Z-pack.” Claire shoots me a sympathetic look and I force a smile. “But I do love this time of year.”
“Thanksgiving was always your favorite.” Aunt Mary leans in to kiss me hello but I shoo her away.
“I’m fighting something,” I explain.
She wraps an arm around my shoulder anyway. “You work too hard, Indy. You need to take care of yourself. You’ve been so busy lately, we’ve hardly seen you.”
“Busy getting some d,” my cousin mutters and I shoot her a murderous glare.
Luckily, Aunt Mary doesn’t hear her.
“I’ve just been working a lot. We are flying out in six weeks for the trip to Bangladesh. With all the Thanksgiving plans—”
“And Friendsgiving plans,” Claire adds.
“And Friendsgiving plans”—I roll my eyes at my cousin, who roped me into a wine and charcuterie night with her and Rielle—“I’ve been trying to get things sorted before the long weekend. Besides, I have another dinner with my department this week.”
“Oh, that’s fun.” Aunt Mary’s eyes glitter. “Are you taking a special someone?” She guides me toward the kitchen but I hear Claire’s snickering behind us.
“Uh…not planning on it.” I accept a mug of hot cocoa from my uncle as he kisses the top of my head in greeting.
“Really?” Aunt Mary presses. “I could have sworn you were seeing someone, Indy. You’ve been busier than ‘just work busy.’”
Claire covers her laughter by coughing into her hand.
“You really shouldn’t wear yourself out by working all the time. You need fun too. A social outlet. You should invite someone to your dinner this week,” Aunt Mary says firmly as Austin and Noah round the corner into the kitchen.
“What dinner?” Austin asks, popping a square of cheese and a cracker into his mouth.
“Indiana has a Thanksgiving dinner with her department,” Aunt Mary explains, shooting me another curious look. “Don’t you think she should bring a nice man? She works too much…”
A smile plays over Noah’s mouth as he swipes some cheese and crackers from the board in the center of the island.
“You want me to set you up?” Austin offers, raising an eyebrow.
Noah’s head snaps up and he glares at my cousin. Austin glares back.
I snort and shake my head. After sneezing into my elbow, I say, “No, thanks. I’m really all good. It’s just a boring, department dinner. I’d rather not subject someone to office politics and hearing about everyone’s dissertations. I’d never get another date.”
Austin points at me with his mother’s wine glass that he nabbed off the island. “Good point, Indy. See, you’re too smart for us.”
Aunt Mary sighs and takes her wine glass from Austin’s outstretched hand. She pulls down more wine glasses from the cabinet as Austin pours for all of us. Moments later, my parents arrive and our usual Sunday night dinner commences.
“We’re hosting Thanksgiving this year.” Mom kisses me hello, beaming. Since we never lived near family when I was growing up, I know how excited she is to host a holiday.
“That’s great, Mom. What can I bring?” I pass her a wine glass.
“Just yourself.” Mom frowns. “You look exhausted, Indiana.”
I shake my head, filling her in on my Z-pack. Mom clucks her tongue.
Noah appears at my shoulder and slips a fresh glass into my hand.
“Thanks.” I smile up at him.
“Oh, you’ll be joining us, won’t you, Noah?” Mom asks him.
Noah furrows his brow.
“For Thanksgiving,” Mom clarifies.
Noah reels back, a bit surprised I think. “Uh, sure. Thank you for the invitation, Leanne.”
“Of course. You’re family.” Mom smiles up at him and I choke on my wine.
As I’m coughing into my elbow like a lunatic, Mom shoots me a look while Noah pats my back.
“Sorry,” I recover, clearing my throat. “Wrong pipe.”
Noah glances at Mom. “I’m going to visit my brother in the morning, but I can come by afterwards.”
Mom beams, squeezing his forearm, before excusing herself to see if my aunt needs any help with dinner.
“You okay?” Noah asks me, his eyebrows furrowing.
I nod, forcing a smile. I can’t believe my mom just invited Noah to Thanksgiving. I mean, of course she should. He’s practically family and other than Easton, he wouldn’t have anyone to spend the holiday with unless he went to visit his own parents who he conveniently never mentions.
But I haven’t spent a holiday with a guy I’m—seeing, dating, hooking up with?—since Jace. I don’t bring guys around. I keep them tucked safely in a box far away from my parents.
“I don’t have to come to your parents’ if it makes you uncomfortable,” Noah says, correctly reading my hesitation.
“No, don’t be silly. Of course you should come.” I flick a wrist, feeling guilty for even thinking that Mom shouldn’t have asked him.
Noah watches me for a long moment. “What’s this dinner you’ve got at work?”
“Oh, that.” I wrinkle my nose. “It’s just a department thing. Going to be boring but I have to make an appearance.”
“Of course.” Noah shifts his weight.
“I’d uh, I’d invite you but it’s Tuesday night,” I say finally.
Noah nods, sipping his wine. “I have an away game.”
“Yeah,” I say, both relieved and disappointed that Noah won’t be able to join me. On the one hand, it would be nice to finally have a date to one of these things. Instead of always being the usually lone single woman that all the divorced men feel the need to chat up. On the other hand, I’m not ready to mix my professional life with Noah. All the overlap of my circles causes anxiety to flar
e in my chest because this thing with Noah isn’t for forever. Deep down, I know that. I need to stick to what we agreed on. I drain my wine glass. “Shall we?” I tip my head toward the kitchen where my aunt is calling everyone to dinner.
Noah nods but his eyes are guarded, watching me with an edge of uncertainty I don’t like. Even if I put it there. Even if I need it there.
For the rest of the night, things between Noah and me feel off. I don’t know exactly what changed but I suddenly feel nervous around him and he seems guarded.
We keep shooting each other surreptitious glances that only heighten the anxiety I feel.
After dinner at my aunt’s, Noah and I head out at the same time.
“I’ve got an early flight tomorrow.” He pulls open the driver’s side door to my car.
“I know.”
He hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “If you want to come by…”
I swallow past the lump forming in my throat, unsure if he wants me to say yes or no. “Um, it’s going to be a busy week for me so…”
“I get it.” He nods.
“I mean, if I don’t come tonight, I won’t see you ‘til the weekend so,” I take a deep inhale, “I’d like to come.”
Relief streaks across his face and he smiles. It’s genuine and it eases some of the tightness in my chest. “Come.”
“Okay.” I smile back. “I’ll follow you.”
I trail Noah to his house and once we’re tucked inside the warmth of his brownstone some of the awkwardness from dinner evaporates.
“You want a drink?” he asks over his shoulder as I follow him into the kitchen.
“No, thanks.” I slide onto a barstool.
He fills a glass of water and downs it.
“What time is your flight tomorrow?” I ask, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of my sweater.
“Seven a.m.”
I whistle and he grins.
“So you’ve got a busy week?” He leans forward over the kitchen island and I try not to be distracted by the way his shoulders roll and bunch. All muscle. All of him. It’s unfair really; how could I not be distracted?