by D. K. Combs
He started at her hips. She had just the right hips. Nothing he was used to, but for her, with him, right now… perfect. They were perfect. He took them in both hands, grinding her bare body against his.
No bra, no panties, no nothing. Once that shirt had come off, there’d been nothing left, and as much as he loved having her on top, he wanted to touch her.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, their lips still locked, her sweet taste invading him, and then he was maneuvering her so that she was on her back. He reached over and shoved the top of the coffee table. It fell with a gentle thump, but now that it was out of the way, he had a way better advantage.
With her underneath him, he took her arms and spread them so they were splayed out by her side and nowhere near the two of them.
“Shit, I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” he growled, breaking their kiss. She only moaned, head tilted back, eyes closed.
When he touched her stomach, she jumped. His hand slid down, lower, and his body followed until he was kneeling on the floor in front of her. Belatedly, he realized he could still take what he wanted from her without losing the bet.
He stared up at her, heart hammering in his chest over the pure beauty she exuded.
“I was supposed to be a gentleman tonight.” He dropped his forehead to her thigh, gently nipping the skin there. He could pull back, but something...told him not to.
“You are,” she murmured, her voice nothing but a breath of excited air. “But I’m a lady in distress.”
Meaning, take her.
But the bet...
He wasn’t sleeping with her. His cock was nowhere near her right now. What he was doing...was good. This was good. As long as he didn’t pull out his dick, they’d be fine. He could give her a few orgasms and call it good until he could take care of himself privately.
No risk of losing the bet, no risk of forgetting himself, and no risk of her taking it for herself.
This would have to do.
He trailed his fingers from her navel to the shaved, smooth skin, and then slid lower. As his fingers separated her, he kneeled down, eyes closing at the scent of her.
Fingers curled into his hair, her breathing turning anxious, quick. When he looked up at her, all he could see was the heaving of her breasts, her beautifully parted lips.
That was enough for him.
He groaned, and then delved into the sweet taste of Bristol.
As her soft, shocked cry filled the air, he started at her clit, taking it between his teeth gently but firmly. He rolled it, laving it with his tongue. When he felt the first tremble in her legs, he wasn’t surprised when not even five seconds later, they were over his shoulder and wrapping around his head.
“Noah, what—No, I wanted all of you…But this…this feels so good too…”
Her grip on his hair tightened, urging him lower, and he gladly followed her will. He released her clit, only to delve into her wetness. He tried to control himself, he really did, but when he caught that first true taste of her, he knew there was no point. He ate her like a man starving, and her moans and soft cries echoed off the walls, his ears.
They rang with the song of her cries and that alone was enough to excuse the fact that his hard on was starting to hurt. He knew that if he touched it, tried to relieve himself, there was no other way that could except with himself inside of her, and that wasn’t allowed to happen.
So he let it hurt, he let himself suffer, if only to hear her moans, to taste her.
As long as she found pleasure, he would be fine.
Soon enough, her back was bowing off the couch, and her legs were trembling in earnest now. Desperate hands damn near pulled his hair out and he groaned, lifting a hand to touch her. He tongued her clit again, inserting a finger inside of her. She was wet, so god damn wet, that when he added another finger, they effortlessly went inside of her.
Son of a bitch, she would feel so good around his cock. He could feel her walls milking his fingers as the release climbed inside of her, could feel the slick wetness that was begging to be filled by something more than just fingers.
He pumped his hand against her, twisting his wrist so he could curl them to brush against her G-spot.
“Oh, Noah—Oh, god,” she moaned, no restraint in her voice now. “Please, god. Yes—like that. Just like that. Noah—Oh shit.”
He felt it happen. Like a vise, her pussy clenched around his fingers until it was hard to move them. The convulsions started around his fingers, and her body followed suit, each wave causing her to jerk and moan.
Noah normally pulled back by this point, but something had him taking out his fingers only to lean down. He lapped at her wetness, groaning against her soft, smooth flesh. He would remember this, he thought. For later, when he finally had a chance to take care of himself, for when she was no longer in his life, after the bet.
He would remember causing her undoing.
He’d remember the soft, sleepy smile she lazily gave him as he pulled away from her, and he’d remember the way her elegant arms reached for him. He’d remember how it felt to have her curled so trustingly, so relaxed, against him.
He would remember it all, because short of doing the same thing to her next time, there was nothing else he could do—and after the bet, even this would be no more.
Noah swallowed thickly, ignoring the boner to pull her onto his lap. She fit...perfectly.
She laid her cheek on his chest, drawing her knees up.
In silence, he forced himself to focus back on the movie. There were no words he could say, no words he wanted to say.
For the first time in a while, despite everything surrounding them, he had a woman sitting on his lap...and he wanted it to stay like that. He didn’t want to shove her off. He wasn’t preparing himself to listen to nagging or bitching.
He just had a woman on his lap, a woman who was somehow managing to fall asleep against him, and it was...fine. It was great. It wasn’t something he’d enjoyed for a while.
Noah looked down at her, unable to stop the frown from coming over his face. Her eyes were closed, lips open and breathing evenly. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, but he didn’t care. He was glad of it. That meant he’d done a great job.
Slowly, he traced a finger over her jawline, the frown worsening.
“Why you?” he asked, knowing she wouldn’t answer. “Why does it have to be you?”
Any other woman but her. It could have been any woman, and yet it was Bristol that he couldn’t get out of his head. She had a barrier too thick for him to break into, too thick to even attempt that, yet here he was, heart hammering in his chest over the way she fit so perfectly against him. Their passions matched perfectly, but everything else...didn’t.
There was no way they could work out, and he wasn’t going to risk his bike on a relationship that had a strong failing percentage. They were just too different, and she was too demanding. She wouldn’t understand his job, how it called time away from life way too often. She wouldn’t understand the late nights he pulled, or the early mornings, or all the racing events, or anything.
None of his previous girlfriends had, and he had a hard time believing she was so special that she would just magically be okay with his dedication to his job, because it would most likely always come before her.
So why was it, that as he stared down at her sleeping face, a face clear of all emotion, a blank slate, that he felt his heart start to hammer in a way it never had?
He’d noticed the change in her tonight. He’d noticed the smiles, the sense of calm that had come over her once they’d gotten to his house.
He had noticed all of it.
What he hadn’t noticed, however, was his own softening toward her—and that wasn’t good.
Softening to Bristol wouldn’t do anything but hurt the two of them, because he was going to win the bet, no matter the costs. He was going to win it, she would hate him for it, and that was that.
Chapter Eighteen
Bristol rolled onto her other side, reaching for her stiffer pillow. She liked to cuddle that one the most, and—
It wasn’t there.
Her eyes popped open and her eyes were met with darkness. What the hell? She sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. What—oh.
Noah’s.
She’d fallen asleep at Noah’s. Tentatively reaching beside her, she felt around for either a warm spot or a large body, and found neither. Okay, so either he hadn’t slept in the same bed as her, or had been awake for a while. She was going to guess he was an early riser, just because she could smell the greasy scent of bacon and eggs.
She blindly felt around. Whatever room he had put her in was pitch black. Not even a sliver of light was coming in. Were there even windows in here? She felt around the bed, reaching for the edge until her hand hit something solid and cold. The more she felt, the more she realized it was a nightstand, and there was a lamp on it.
Thank god, she thought, finding the switch and turning it. As the yellow light filled the room, she looked around. There were windows, and the panels were closed tight. The room was as spotless as the rest of his house.
The floor was covered with beige carpet, the walls a complimenting tone of brown, and the furniture was actually really nice—probably just as nice as hers, she mused, touching the white down comforter. As she took in her surroundings, the memories from the night before came back with a rush.
Bristol just barely remembered falling asleep curled in his arms, completely naked—
She’d been naked.
Bristol looked down at herself, her heartstrings pulling when she realized that he’d put clothes back on her before setting her on the bed. She swung her legs over the edge, pleased to find that he’d even put the shorts back on her.
Had he noticed the scars? She rubbed her shoulder, shaking her head. Unless he had actually taken the time to study her, he wouldn’t have.
She couldn’t remember anything after falling asleep. She’d slept deeply and soundly for probably the first time in her life, to the point where she didn’t even remember him bringing her to this room.
She stood up, pushing her hair behind her ear, and then walked to the door. As she opened it, she heard music coming from downstairs. It sounded...almost like Bruno Mars, she thought, gathering her hair and pulling it to one side. She cautiously crept down the stairs—for what reason, she didn’t know, it just felt appropriate.
When she went past the living room, she saw the blanket and pillow on the couch and frowned. Had he slept there last night?
She kept moving, following the sound of the music.
Never would she have thought that Noah listened to Bruno Mars. Never in her life would she have guessed that. As she came around the corner to see his hips swaying in front of the stove, flipping eggs and bacon, his deep voice muttering the words, she was proven wrong.
Very wrong.
With her lips pressed against a smile, she leaned on the door jam, crossing her arms over her chest, watching him.
The black shorts he wore sat low on his hips, and Under Armour boxers peaked above them, and besides that, those were the only clothes he wore.
He was gloriously shirtless, the first look she’d gotten at him like that, and she was not disappointed. His body was cut, lean. His arms flexed with each movement, the muscles defined. His chest really like a barrel. She’d always assumed it was the jacket that added width to him, but it hadn’t been. Nope, he was just naturally buff, naturally large. Even his back was defined.
He didn’t have the body of a bodybuilder but rather that of a man who took care of himself and worked. A lot. She could remember the feel of his rough, calloused hands on her skin, remember how amazing that had felt against her sensitive skin.
The men she normally slept with had soft hands, hands that weren’t used to hard physical work.
It was a nice change.
He kept going, not even noticing her. It wasn’t anything over the top, just a man getting into the beat, but it still had her cracking up despite herself. He must have heard her snort because he turned around quickly, then reached for his phone. The music, which had been coming from the ceiling, shut off, leaving the kitchen awkwardly quiet.
“I was going to let you sleep,” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.
“Uh-huh…” She nodded slowly, a smile flirting at the edge of her lips.
“This doesn't leave the kitchen,” he said sternly, pointing a finger at her in warning.
She made a cross motion over heart as she pushed away from the wall and met him at the stove. She peered to the side of him. Eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns.... On the counter, there were two glasses of orange juice and two plates.
He only smiled when she gave him a raised brow.
“The plan was to bring you breakfast in bed, but I guess your internal alarm clock is better than I expected,” he said, chuckling. “Normally, when I have my room blacked out, I’m dead to the world all day.”
“That was your room?” she asked, reaching around him to grab a piece of sausage.
“Yeah,” he said. “Here, hold on. Sit down at the table and I’ll bring you a plate.”
She did as he said, but grabbed the glasses of orange juice before she went. He gave her a swat on the butt as she passed by him.
“So, where did you sleep last night?” she asked, watching as he loaded the plates with food.
“On the couch. Do you like ketchup with your hash browns?”
She grimaced, but replied with a quick yes. He set the plate in front of her, then went to the fridge to get the ketchup. Finally, he sat in front of her, about ready to dig in—until he noticed there wasn’t any silverware.
He started to stand up.
“Don’t worry about it. I can grab them, Noah. You don’t have to do everything for me,” she said, sliding her hand across his shoulder when she walked past him. He turned in his chair to watch her, elbow resting on top of it.
She could feel his eyes burning into her, could feel him tracing her body with invisible fingers, but she ignored it. When he directed her to the drawer, she took out two forks and two knives, then turned back around.
Yeah, he had definitely been staring at her.
And just like last night, she reacted instantly to it.
She bit her lower lip, walking past him to sit at her spot.
“So, you slept on the couch last night, and I slept in your bed?” she asked, raising a brow at him. The only way to distract herself from what he did to her was to talk—and right now, she wanted to know why he’d given up his bed for her, when he could have just as easily left her on the couch, or better yet, slept next to her.
Although, the latter probably would have taken it too far. They weren’t serious, and had no plans to be from what she could tell, so sharing a bed...probably wouldn’t be in their best interest.
Even if she did want to know what it felt like to sleep with a warm body beside her, to not feel so...alone.
But then, there were other ways for that to happen, like right now. She didn’t feel alone and hadn’t when she’d woken up either. She didn’t know if it was from Noah or his house, but something about this moment had her filled with a warmth she hadn’t felt before.
“Yeah. Figured since you work so hard, you needed a good night sleep. That couch can cause major back pains,” he said, grimacing as if he knew from experience—which he must have, since he’d slept on it. She swallowed thickly, poking at her plate.
“Do you not like eggs?” He glanced at her plate, then her.
She picked up her fork and cut them up, yellow yolk spilling over her plate. “No, it’s not that,” she said, mixing up the eggs and hash browns together. “I just...feel bad. That you slept there.”
“Don’t,” he said firmly. “I have a guest room but it’s packed full of parts for projects.”
“Projects? What kind?” she asked, taking a bite of her food. Ooooh, yeah, that w
as good. She normally didn’t have time for breakfast. A hot cup of coffee normally took care of it, but this...this made her miss the mornings where she had time for eggs and bacon.
“Just bike projects. I don’t get a lot of downtime to mod my own bikes because of clients, so I mostly just order the shit and then hide it in the room. One day, I’ll have time,” he said, taking a bite of his sausage. “When my techs don’t need me to help them with everything constantly.”
“So, wait, you really do have your own shop, then?”
He raised a brow.
“Is that shocking?”
“Well—I mean, no but yes? I remember you bringing a motorcycle to the office that first day, but…”
“Yeah, no.” He popped the end piece of sausage into his mouth, chewing. Once it was down, he spoke. “My dad started the shop when I was six. I took it up when he passed away. Two techs that barely know what they’re doing some days, even though they’re smart as hell kids, and myself.”
“I didn’t know there was such a market for motorcycles right now,” she said. Back when she’d been young, they had been big. In fact, she had grown up fixing one. She had learned everything she could around that old Harley.
Now, though, she wasn’t sure she could remember much. But, she hadn’t touched a bike in...how many years? Ten? She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was like riding a bicycle, something you never forgot. Who knew.
“Oh, there is. Everyone’s all about speed right now, and what better way to go fast than getting on a bike? I have all sorts of clients that come through me,” he said, starting on his eggs.
She reached for the ketchup and poured some onto her plate, then followed suit. It could be because she hadn’t had an actual breakfast in a long time, or it could be because he was that good of a cook, but whatever the case, the food was great.
“Like who?”
Bristol was enjoying this way too much. It wasn’t often she had a chance to simply talk to someone. Even if it wasn’t about her, she was as invested in the conversation as if it had been. Who knew when she would have this kind of casual conversation next?