by Gina Azzi
“Yep. Midterm exams before the students go home for Thanksgiving break, things to finalize for our research trip, and a holiday reception with the Political Science department.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Liar.”
Noah chuckles and tips his head toward the stairs.
I lead the way and he swats my ass as I scurry up the stairs.
Once I’m in his bedroom, I collapse in the center of his bed. Bracing my arms behind me, I gaze up at Noah as he enters the dark room and kicks the door closed behind him. The moonlight streams through the windows, casting shadows on his face.
He stares at me with an intensity I’m unprepared for. His eyes burn with emotions I don’t understand. “Indiana,” he murmurs my name, and it’s both a plea and a curse.
I drop to my elbows as he strides to the side of the bed. His frame hovers over mine, his eyes boring straight to my soul.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
He shakes his head and tugs off his shirt.
I inhale, watching as the moonlight ripples over his abdomen. He could be carved from marble, that’s how breathtaking he is. He’s art. His body is powerful, strong, and mesmerizing. Tenderness sweeps his expression and I gasp at the longing in his gaze. My elbows give out from underneath me and the back of my head hits his mattress. Noah climbs onto the bed and straddles me, careful to keep his weight from crushing me.
His teeth scrape over his bottom lip and he swears. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His face hovers over mine, pleading and tortured. “What are you doing to me, Indy?” His voice is strangled and I frown, wanting to ask what he means, wanting to understand what he’s asking. But before I can form a word, his lips find mine. He kisses me hard, with a torrent of unspoken emotions. I moan, arching into him as he presses into me.
His touch is hot against my skin and suddenly, it’s like I can’t get enough of him. A frenzy works in my blood, blocking out rational thought. My hands track his biceps, his rib cage, his hard pecs as they press into my palms. His tongue swirls down the column of my neck, his fingers making quick work of the buttons down my blouse.
When his mouth latches onto my nipple, the hot air of his breath trapped between my skin and the cup of my bra, I groan. There’s nothing remarkable about this moment except that it feels like more than anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s sexier, headier, and so much needier. Desire pools between my legs as Noah unclasps my bra and my breasts spill into his waiting hand and mouth.
He wastes no time teasing me, working my body in tiny increments that have my legs winding around his waist.
I reach for him, deftly unzipping his jeans.
“Jesus,” Noah swears, kicking off his pants and pulling my leggings and underwear down in one swift tug. “Need you, baby. Fuck.”
I gaze up at him, noting the rise and fall of his chest, the wild gleam in his eyes, the veins that pop along his strong forearms.
“Want you, Noah,” I manage to say before he pushes into me. We both cry out and he stills, letting me adjust to him.
He gathers me to his chest, pressing kisses into my hair. “You okay?”
“Move, Noah. Please,” I practically beg him.
He chuckles but it comes out as a groan as he begins to pull back and press into me.
Fuck, I see stars. Because the sensations flowing through my body aren’t just physical, there’s an emotional aspect I’ve never shared with Noah before. Each time we hook up, it’s a little bit more intense, but tonight, it’s a whole new level of passion. It colors the air around us, makes the space between us vibrate, and travels through my limbs like a live wire.
“So fucking good, Indy,” Noah mutters, working a faster pace. He flips us so I’m sitting on top, straddling him. My palms smack the center of his chest as I begin to move and he swears loudly, throwing his head back.
Jesus, he’s divine. One of the hottest men I’ve ever seen and the fact that I can do this to him is like a drug. It hits me like a shot of adrenaline, helping me find my rhythm. My one hand strays from his body and caresses my own, tweaking my nipple as Noah’s eyes widen.
“That’s it, Indy. Feel me, baby,” he demands, guiding himself up, meeting me thrust for thrust.
But I’m too far gone to process his words. Too into this moment, into him, to understand anything other than the delicious sensations rocking through me. My desire heightens in increments that has my abdomen clenching and my thighs shaking. Noah moves forward, his hands finding my waist and guiding me up and down, up and down. Faster.
“So gorgeous, baby.”
I cry out, biting my bottom lip. My hands curls around his shoulders, my nails piercing his skin. “Noah.”
“Come for me, Indy. Please baby, let me see you break apart.” His voice is guttural, desperate. It’s my undoing.
I shatter. I break into a million tiny pieces that feel like sunshine and rain and perfection. As I ride the wave of bliss, Noah rolls me underneath him and thrusts into me at a frantic pace until he falls over the edge, calling out my name, and collapses on top of me.
We breathe in each other’s breaths, both of us panting. My body feels like a puddle, my mind whipping with too many thoughts to process. But my heart, oh my heart, is straight up galloping and skipping beats.
Noah lets out a shaky exhale and slides out of me, rolling onto his back beside me.
For several moments, only the sounds of our breathing and our ricocheting thoughts fill the room.
Then, I feel Noah’s hand slip over mine. “Indy?”
I turn my head a tiny bit to study his profile. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”
I nod, trying to find words to describe how I am. Because I’m better than I’ve ever been in my entire life. “Better than okay.”
He squeezes my fingers. “Me too. You are spectacular.”
I snort, liking when he’s both sweet and playful. “Right back at you, Scotch.”
Instead of chuckling like I expect, Noah turns toward me. His eyes are bottomless, dark and deep. He holds my gaze for a long moment and something passes between us. I don’t have a word for it but it’s more. More than just desire, than attraction, than this moment.
I clear my throat and Noah blinks. Then he slides from the bed and cleans up in the bathroom. I blow out a deep exhale and force myself to my feet even though my legs feel like jelly. My entire being feels off-balanced, as if I’ve lost my equilibrium and the entire world is shaky.
When Noah opens the bathroom door, he smiles at me and brushes a kiss across my lips. “I’m sorry I need to set an early alarm.”
“Don’t be. I know you have to leave before the sun’s up.” I enter the bathroom and rinse off quickly in the shower.
When I re-enter the room, Noah’s soft snore fills the space. His suitcase is opened next to the bed, ready for tomorrow’s flight.
I slip underneath the covers and shimmy closer to him, liking the way the warmth of his body seeps into my skin. Even though there are a million thoughts jumping around my head, my body is worn out. Within moments, I drift off to sleep.
When I wake in the morning, Noah is already gone. The pale gray light of dawn wraps around me like a blanket. Everything feels different.
20
Noah
“What’s going on, man?” my brother asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Huh?” I ask, frowning at the screen of my phone.
East chuckles through the speaker. “Damn, you got it bad. Where’s your head at? You’ve got a game tonight.”
“I know. I’m here,” I grumble. My head is all over the fucking place but I’m here.
“How’s Indy?” East asks slowly.
“How are you? How’s recovery?” I focus on the matter at hand.
East snorts and I know he’s going to circle back to Indy the first chance he gets. But I don’t want to talk about Indy. Because Indy is great. She’s a goddamn goddess and makes me feel a million things I have no clue
what the hell to do with. She’s amazing and I’m annoyed. I don’t want to think about her a thousand times a day. I don’t want to wonder what she’s up to and how her classes went. I don’t want any of the complications.
Indiana Merrick is smart and motivated. She’s worked her ass off to establish the life she has and what she wants—stability—is something I can’t provide. So while she’s glowing, bestowing her sunshine on a bunch of college freshmen, I’m growling, pissed off at the goddamn world.
Easton’s irritating laughter breaks through my thoughts again.
“What?” I snap.
“Christ, bro. I’m okay, all right? I’m hanging in there. But you, you’re spiraling. Trust me, I know the signs.”
I swear at him.
“What’s going on with Indy?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you,” Easton taunts, singsongy.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, exasperated. “She’s amazing, okay?”
Easton stops laughing. “Dude, what the hell is going on?”
I sit down on the edge of the bed in my hotel room. “We’re playing Vancouver tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“Fucking Jace Edwards,” I spit out, my irritation spiking just thinking about seeing the asshole who hurt Indy years ago. Who made her swear off hockey players and the uncertain lifestyle we fling ourselves into, the one with no guarantees, and therefore, made her unattainable for guys like me. For me.
“Noah, did something happen with Indiana? Is she okay?” The concern in my brother’s voice makes me realize how much my bitter and random rambling is messing with him.
Shit, pull it together, Scotch.
“She’s fine, Easton. I just, I really like her,” I admit.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah, man. Why shouldn’t you like someone? BTW, I love the middle school throwback.”
I snort.
“What’s the problem, Noah?” East presses.
“She came home with me last night. It was different.”
“Different,” my brother repeats, a heavy dose of skepticism in his tone.
“Different good,” I hurry to add. “I think. I don’t know, East, my head is all over the place. It was just great, more, something…shifted. And now, I can’t get her out of my head and she’s totally normal. Like, completely fine being friends who hook up while I want to pick a fight with her goddamn ex-boyfriend just because years ago, he had her.”
East is quiet for several seconds. Then, a muttered, “Damn,” travels through the line. “Noah, you’re really into Little Indy.”
“I know,” I sigh, hating this. Why the hell do I have to have feelings for the one girl I can’t really have? I mean, sure, I can have her. But I don’t deserve her. I shouldn’t want her. The only thing a guy like me offers to a woman like Indy are complications, instability, and at some point, resentment.
“Why don’t you talk to her?” my brother asks slowly, trying to keep his voice neutral.
I stand from the bed again, energy bursting though my limbs. “I can’t, man. She was really clear about what she wanted, what her expectations are. We both were. And now, what? I’m going to flip the script on her, take back all the things I said because she’s fucking amazing? It will just mess with her head, or make things weird between us, and I don’t want to do either of those things.”
“Yeah, but, isn’t she going to figure out you’re acting strange? I mean, you’re checked out, Noah. You’ve got three big games on the horizon and your head is in fucking la-la land over a woman you’re not even going to make yours.”
Not going to make yours.
That’s a damn bitter pill to swallow.
I swear. Because, fuck, my brother is right. I can’t make Indy mine, not the way I want to. Not when she deserves the moon and the stars and I can only give her a damn asteroid. Besides, I do need to get my head in the game. Literally. Hockey isn’t a guarantee. My spot on the Hawks isn’t a sure thing, neither is Easton’s. Look what’s happening to Torsten.
Jesus. I can’t let myself spin out like this. I swore after Courtney, I was going to put hockey before everything. Look at me. I’m freaking out over a woman, at least I know she’s the woman, but it’s not going to happen and I know that too.
“I need to let her go,” I murmur.
“What?” East asks.
“I’m going to her house for Thanksgiving.”
“You’re going to a family dinner at a woman’s house?” Easton’s tone is hushed.
“She’s still a Merrick,” I point out.
“Yeah, but one you’ve been inside of.”
I cringe at his vulgarity. “I need to talk to her. Ease things between us. We spend too much time together. We’re falling into this, this dating, when we’re supposed to be casual. She needs to go on a date.”
My brother laughs but when I don’t join in, he stops.
“That’s a terrible, awful, dumb idea.”
“Thanks, East.”
“Noah, I’m serious. Just…talk to her. Two minutes ago, you wanted to hit Edwards because he dated Indy in college. Now, you want to set her up?”
“I have to,” I say, turning the idea over in my mind. Damn, it will gut me. Piss me off. Hurt. But it’s for the best. It’s what’s best for her. I care about Indy and as a man who wants her to have the life she wants, I know she needs a guy who’s nothing like me. She needs someone who shares her interests, who has a stable career, who might not be living across the country next year.
“Noah, think about what you’re saying,” Easton admonishes me.
“I have.” I nod as if to emphasize the decision to myself. “This is what’s best for Indy. I gotta do right by her, East.”
I eat those words six hours later when my fist connects with Jace Edwards’ jaw.
Shit. I pull back, shaking out my hand.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Edwards cups his face.
Torsten skates in between us and angles his body in front of mine. “Fuck off, Edwards. You’re lucky you’re even playing tonight.”
A true testament to Edwards’ character is that only one of his teammates tries to insert himself in our brawl and I think it’s more out of obligation than friendship.
I flip my chin to the kid, a young guy who was picked up by Vancouver this season, and back off.
“You good?” Torsten skates beside me as whistles chirp in the background.
I nod, scraping a hand over my face. I shouldn’t have punched him. I know it. But when that fucker looked at me and grinned, yelling too fucking loudly “Heard you’re tasting my leftovers. Who knew you liked sloppy seconds?” I lost it.
First off, how the hell does he even know about Indy and me? I know it’s a small world and all that but my team is discreet. I haven’t even addressed Austin about my relationship, or lack thereof, with his cousin. Second, Jace had it coming, he’s had it coming for years, and I’m just the first who decided to do something about his incessant chirping. For a player who rarely sees the ice, he should watch his words. Austin slaps me on the back and I don’t miss the wariness in his expression.
“He had it coming,” I say by way of explanation.
“Scotch!” Coach Phillips bellows, his look incredulous.
The ref tosses me in the penalty box for five minutes.
“Damn,” I mutter, skating to the box and jumping in. I’m an idiot. Even though I don’t regret, not for one second, punching Edwards, I do regret that my outburst let the team down.
I swear, running a hand over my face. My bad mood darkens the longer I sit out of play and watch my team carry on with one man down. The second my time is up, I throw myself back in the game and play hard. Adrenaline burns in my veins, my head throbs, and a thinly veiled coat of anger tinges everything in my vision.
We win the game, which marginally improves my mood.
“What the hell happened out there?” Austin asks as we file out
of the visitors’ locker room and head for the team bus.
I shake my head. “He mouthed off.”
“So?”
“So.” I glare at my friend. “He said a bunch of shit about Indy and—”
“Indy,” Austin cuts me off, his eyes widening. “What the hell is going on with you and my little cousin, Scotch?”
I stride past him, not caring that I’m being a douche. “Absolutely nothing,” I holler over my shoulder.
That night, I don’t join the team for drinks. I’m not in the mood for conversation and noise and puck bunnies with skintight jeans and too much eyeliner.
Instead, I rinse off in the shower, order room service, and channel surf for a movie.
My phone buzzes and I pause, glancing at where it sits in the center of the bed. It’s Indy, I know it is. There’s no way she would have missed hearing about my scrape with Edwards. Hell, there’s a good chance she caught it on ESPN.
Sighing, I pick up the phone.
More messages populate my screen as I sit and contemplate what to tell her. What to do.
Indy: Hey, you okay?
Indy: What happened with Jace?
Indy: Congrats on the win. You looked great out there.
Indy: I’m still at this department dinner. Call you when I get home.
I throw down my phone and don’t bother to respond. Later, when my phone buzzes on my nightstand and the screen lights up with Indy’s name, I don’t answer.
Tonight, I put my feelings for Indy before the best interest of my team. Before my brother’s career. I need to make every second on the ice count. I can’t waste time fighting nobodies like Edwards. I can’t spend every second twisted up over Indiana Merrick. Not when we don’t even have a future. Not when she’ll always be out of my league.
I toss and turn all night.
My alarm sounds early and I ignore the two missed calls and messages from Indy asking if I’m okay. Instead, I get up, get dressed, and shoulder my bag. I single onto the team bus and stare out the window, tuning out the chatter of my teammates, as we make our way to the airport. I ignore Torsten’s hard looks, blow off Austin’s questions, and pop in my earbuds.