It Was Always Love (Taboo Love Book 2)

by V. Theia

  “Can you move?” He’s immovable.

  My hands on his chest don’t even shift him an inch. He just pressed into my hands. “Noah. I can’t talk about this, about him with you lying between my legs.”

  “Yes, you can.” Without putting his full weight on top of me, he settled both our chests together, resting his arms on either side of my head. There’s no escaping him or his intense gaze as he watched me.

  I meet him head on.

  Fine. If this is how he wanted to do it.

  “I saw you in your club with him. You haven’t even told me that jerk was coming back around you again. He fucked you over and you’re letting him back in? You’re a big boy, you can have whatever toxic shit in your life you choose, but I won’t sit around and watch it, Noah. I won’t. I’ll end up punching the smirk right off his face.”

  He was worried we’d ruin a deep-rooted friendship if he acted on new feelings he’d never experienced before, and I would have obliterated a friendship all over the hardwood floors if he’d ever given me a slight hint at how his feelings were changing towards me.

  It’s the age old saying; can men and women be friends and not bump hips?

  Of course, they can. Plenty do. It doesn’t mean they haven’t entertained the thought. We are all creatures under our skin and moralities. We think of sex more than anything else. Okay, I think of cheese more than sex, but then addictions need attention. After cheesy pasta, I am totally thinking of sex. Wanting sex, fantasizing about banging my favorite actors.

  It’s how humans work.

  And so, amid all that, knowing how I would easily cross the friendship line, now and four years ago, we keep banging up against the gay line.

  It’s hard to miss, really.

  “Are you bisexual now?” It came out of me before I could stop it.

  I once had a gay guy in a club lecture me for twenty whole minutes on how he didn’t believe in bi or pan, that it was an excuse for a gay man/woman to pretend they’re ‘normal’ I recalled laughing in his face and rolling my eyes.

  That word normal is so fucking insulting to every human being, it has zero to do with sexuality and all to do with accepting your own skin.

  “Which do you want me to answer first?” His voice heavy and rough and raw scraped over me. Not a hint of amusement. Noah took my questions seriously, as I tried to ignore the hardness digging into my slit, my legs moved slightly to let him drop further between them and he grunted, settling in.

  Just like home.

  “I know what you think you saw. I’m not dating Tom.” He informed tersely. “I’m not fucking Tom again,” he went on before I could distinguish between dating and sex.

  There was a sweep of relief in my chest.

  “I don’t like that you fucking ran from me, Sena,” teeth clenched. “My kitten doesn’t do that shit, but we’ll come back to this.” He brushed the hair from my face, held my cheek in one hand, until he made sure I looked up at him, not dancing my gaze away.

  He waited for me.

  Only when our eyes locked did he go on. I almost hit him for taking so fucking long. A girl in my position, literally the intimate position he’s got me in, making me hot as hell and itchy in all my places, has no time for silence and time lapses.

  He gave me the backstory of how he knew I saw him with Tom.

  He’d expected me at the club that night, but no sooner was I inside I saw Tom all up in Noah’s personal space as if the pair were about to kiss. I know all this already, I’ve lived with it plaguing my brain for two weeks, what I don’t know is how he knew. He went on to inform the bouncer saw me rush out minutes after I arrived and concerned he reported it to Noah who in turn tried to call me, a call in which I ignored, so super sleuth that he is, as all villains are, assumed a guy might have hassled me so he went through the security footage and watched me watching him and Tom.

  I listened to him relay his version of the same story and realized just how different both versions were.

  “You could have just told me that jerk-off was back, so I was better prepared to watch you suck face.”

  Noah snorted, which he somehow made sexy, and kissed the tip of my nose. “We weren’t kissing—

  I scowled. “I mean, really, Noah, of all men in this world you could have, you let that walking, talking ego—”

  “—he leaned in to tell me I told you so.”

  “—and furthermore, he’s a dickhe——wait, what?” I stumbled over my words, his penetrating tone finally broke through my tirade of my one woman hate campaign against the male model. “You weren’t making out with him and you’re not getting back together with him? At all?”

  Noah’s brow is the most arrogant thing on his face after his smirk. He set both in motion.

  Oh.

  Frick. Me.

  It seemed I’ve made a grave error.

  A technical difficulty set on fucking fire.

  Two weeks. My mind screamed.

  What have I done?

  All the humiliation, anger, and sadness trickled away like it hasn’t plagued me every hour.

  I wasted two weeks on this fabricated in-my-own-goddamn-head situation.

  Baby, you’re your own worst enemy. My momma’s voice was strong, and a little authoritarian in my head.

  She’s not wrong.

  “God.” I cursed, rubbing my forehead, over my closed eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me? You know I saw him at your place a few weeks ago?”

  “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “He gloated right in my face how he’d take care of you. I wanted to punch him in his nuts.”

  Noah chuckled a little and kissed the hand held over my eyes. I feel … ridiculous. And sad. I’m sad I wasn’t more trusting. I’ve been so submerged in the melodrama of my own crush and heartbreak as I saw it I wasted all this time.

  I glared up at him when something occurred to me. “Why is he back? He wants you, obviously.”

  Smirk.

  Bastard.

  He knew his attractive levels were off the chain.

  “Tom understands there’s nothing there for me now, we were never that serious to begin with.” This was news to me. I always assumed Noah had feelings invested in that Tom era. “I was an accessory for him, a rich man to make him look good and get him in places, and he was entertaining. It was good for what it was.” He explained. “He has a business he wants investment for and came to me first.” My brow inverted, and he went on to give details of the restaurant in midtown.

  It was something Noah had wanted to branch into for a while.

  “Good luck with working with that glitter covered ball-bag.”

  Chuffing a laugh, he pressed a kiss to my throat, my hand curled around the back of his neck holding him there. “He speaks highly of you too. It will be investment only, no hands on, for the restaurant or him.”

  I pulled his head up. Eyes narrowed. “He calls me names?”

  “He wouldn’t dare say a word against you in front of me. He tried it only once and discovered his severe blunder in doing so.”

  My forehead was receiving a good frowning workout.

  “What do you mean?”

  Sensing the conversation wasn’t over by far, Noah sighed and rolled to the side of me, keeping us connected with his arm slung across my torso. The sheet long since had been pushed to the bottom of the bed so the full effect of him was on display.

  Hard bumps. Tanned skin and just miles of gorgeous Noah.

  I gulped and dragged my eyes off his body.

  He caught me checking him out and grinned.

  Bastard.

  “He had a few complaints, years ago, how you and I were too close. That you got in the way of him and me.”

  I hissed. “That low-down filthy liar!” Rolling to my knees, the bed soft under me, it supported without tipping me over as my tirade got going. “I never got in his damn way! Wasn’t I always leaving you alone when that clothes-horse came over? Didn’t I always decline invites to go o
ut for dinner with you two? Even when he offered me tickets to fashion week, yeah, thanks for that dickdouche, I knew it was only to look good in front of you, didn’t I say no thank you? Yes, I fucking did, that jackass. Oh, my god, I’m madder than a wet hen!” I fumed.

  What a jackass. “Here’s a clue, you over inflated ego, don’t suck someone else’s dick and maybe you wouldn’t have lost your boyfriend, it had zero to do with me and my friendship.”

  Meanwhile over in Noah’s part of the bed he laughed at me.

  I glared daggers.

  This was not funny.

  He dragged me over his chest, palmed my butt, squeezed it tightly enough to make it hurt and feel good, shooting pleasure landed in my mid-section. “You’re so fucking sexy when you get southern. Your drawl is licking all over me.”

  I hit his shoulder. This was no time to get smooth. I settled onto his chest and muttered some more about Tom. “I won’t eat at his stupid restaurant.”

  Pout. Glare. “I’ll report him for cockroaches. That sucks for you being an investor, but whatever.”

  One side of Noah’s lips elevated, his eyes sparkled mirth. “I put you first, kitten. He knew it then and knows it now. It’s why he was telling me I told you so.”

  “He knows what?”

  “When you saw us together and put two and two coming up with fifty. I was letting him know you are mine.” I sucked in air like a landed fish. “And I’m yours.”

  Oh.

  My.

  Days.

  His honesty lit me up.

  “He said he’d known it all along.”

  Suddenly I’m rolled onto my back, Noah prowled over me, his eyes looked almost black, the desire clear.

  Desire for me.

  I’m so giddy I could spit.

  “You didn’t answer. Are you bisexual now? I mean, you must be, right?”

  Shut up, Sena. Why do I need everything dotted and crossed? I’m trying to act cool, I really am, but unfortunately, I’m one of those people who wear every emotion out there for all to see, not only on my sleeve but pouring out my eyeballs and most of all my giant mouth.

  I’m a reacter. I react before my brain engaged. Case in fucking point my disappearing act.

  God.

  God.

  Why?

  Just accept he wants his dick inside you, Sena. I can hear India in my head. What the hell does it matter if he was gay as a canary all his life and now he’s boning you? She’d tell me. I love the simplistic attitude of India. She’s one of those friends who has your back, would like everything you post on social media, even the fugly selfies you filter for hours, and she’s a constant peer support for any piece of friend happiness.

  But, but, but, she isn’t the one ten levels deep in love with their gay lover.

  God. That sounded ludicrous even to my own crazy brain.

  I, Sena Black, have a gay lover.

  Oxymoron or what?

  I scowled at imaginary India and poked Noah’s ribs.

  “I’m always going to be queer,” he answered evenly. My brain melting into my stomach. What in the hell does that even mean? Is he fucking me for sport? Am I the latest app we become obsessed with then forget two weeks later? I’m ready to spit expletives in his gorgeous, calm face. “This is what I know, Sena. I fucking want you, crave you, desire you more than I have anyone else in my entire fucking life, but I don’t want to fuck other women. If anything, I’m Sena-sexual.”

  He sounded ridiculously sexy when he cursed. I tried not to drool.

  “You’re a drug in my blood I won’t quit, can’t quit and wouldn’t even try to.” Cupping the back of my neck, he used those long-tapered fingers to pull me down into his face, breathing the same air. His rapid heartbeat through his chest and into mine.

  Kisses streaked across both cheeks, down to my neck, along my chest and back up again.

  I’m lost in his scent, in the whisper way he touched me bringing my body to life. No one has ever been like Noah and I suspected no one ever will be.

  My heart recognized only one.

  Belonged to only one.

  Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on which way you look at it so does my pussy.

  It wanted the queer and no one else will do.

  “You and I are connected, Sena,” he whispered scraping starved kisses along the shell of my ear. I moaned into him, clawing at his waist to have him nearer. He’s impossibly thick and hard between my legs, bumping my clit like he knew exactly what he was doing driving me this mad. “I want you, don’t fucking doubt that. All of your crazy, beautiful, sexy and amazing self.”

  I preen, excluding the crazy bit. I’m an average woman with healthy levels of reactionary emotions that by no means equate to insanity. My momma would have had me tested if she suspected crazy runs through me.

  Before I could utter a word or beg him to bang my brains out he licked my lower lip. “Now, you can tell me about my baby.”

  He hummed, settling a warm hand on my hip.

  SIX

  “First, let me say, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. That was a shitty friend thing of me to do.”

  My heart raced.

  Chill the fuck out, heart. It wasn’t as bad as I’d first thought, and yet still I was going through a stage of I’d screwed up here and I hated I’d jumped to conclusions with Noah of all people.

  I propped myself against the wall of pillows behind me it was like falling into clouds. I managed to keep the top sheet around my boobs, not sure why since he’s seen everything already, but I felt oddly exposed.

  My fingers picked at the comforter seam, anything to distract me from his face as I sneaked quick glances.

  “It doesn’t matter, Sena.” Blue eyes narrowed. “What does give me concern is you’re avoiding telling me you’re pregnant. Now, I can forgive you being mad at me, and for thinking the worst, that was my fault for not being as communicative as you needed from me, but you’ve had two weeks of knowing you have my baby inside you and haven’t tried once to tell me, and even now you’re looking for ways to evade. What’s going on?” Dark, villainous voice.

  “How did you know?”

  “You left clues on your bathroom counter. When you were dumping my calls to voicemail I camped out at your place and saw them. All the piss sticks say pregnant. So, unless you’ve dated some nerd at the same time, you can go ahead and let me know I’m gonna be a father.”

  My brow creased. I’d forgotten I’d left my testing kits in my bathroom. Hadn’t even occurred to me he’d see them. “And it does matter, okay. I feel shitty right now for nearly throwing away four good friend years because I was fucking jealous. So jealous I couldn’t see straight. Maybe I have ruined it. So, I’m sorry, and I’m not avoiding.” I rushed on, though I totally was avoiding, he’d nailed it in one, but then Noah always does know me better than I know myself sometimes.

  I can still hardly believe myself that I’m pregnant without confirming it for Noah and making it more real.

  Again, it’s reason number six I’ll make a terrible mother.

  There’s a lot riding on what comes out of my mouth next.

  Expectation saturated the air.

  The smell of sex and anticipation while Noah allowed me the silence I needed. He doesn’t push me further but when I glanced over, his face surveyed me soulfully. A look I felt in a nook of my heart that was only his.

  It thumped and struck me with heat.

  And I realized.

  Whatever was between us, that emotional tie from friendship to lovers. Whether we go back to being friends or casual acquaintances because he can’t forget I fucked up our friendship by ghosting him. I do know Noah is the most responsible asshole I’ve ever known.

  He would never walk out on his kid.

  Never. That fact relaxed me.

  I won’t be alone in this parenting gig.

  “Congratulations, your queer sperm knocked me up.” I announced.

  I caught his lips twit
ching and I rushed on. “I’m sorry.” I whittled on my lip, teeth biting into the soft flesh. “I was taking the pill, but I got sick, remember? It’s all my fault.”

  When I figured he wasn’t going to chime anything my brows further creeped down onto my forehead and that relief from a second ago replaced with crippling anxiety. It hadn’t occurred he might think I’d gotten pregnant on purpose. Le gasp. Romance book trope right there.

  Trap the millionaire.

  Holy shit I’m a lifetime movie!

  Or maybe he thought I’d be a shitty mom and will want full custody.

  I can’t deny he adults so much better than my adulting.

  “Dammit, Noah. Will you say something, please! I’m dying over here if you can’t see it.”

  I needed clothes. This wasn’t the kind of conversation I wanted to have when I’m naked under a duvet. I calculated how many naked steps I’d have to take to get to my suitcase and the clothes inside and realized it’s too many. I stayed in the bed.

  Sulking and waiting.

  “I wonder which time it was.” He said finally. I blinked confused.

  “Which time what?”

  “That my queer sperm invaded your lady palace.” He deadpanned. Not a flicker of amusement of his face but I see his eyes were lit.

  My. Lady. Palace.

  I lost it. Falling back laughing my head off.

  Just like that the tension faded and replaced by two friends sharing in a ludicrous joke.

  “I think it must have been that night I came home early from work. What was it, two, three days after you were sick? And you attacked me as soon as I came down to your apartment.” There’s a certain amount of smugness in his voice like he’s taking great pleasure in knowing his baby was inside me.

  It baffled me for a moment until what he’s said penetrated in to my already too-busy brain.

  I huffed, pushing his wide shoulder as he continued to lounge at my side. “I did no such thing.”

  I did. I really did. I couldn’t wait to get into his pants.

  We fucked right there in my hallway rattling the console table with his awesome thrusts. I might have even muttered how much I needed his monster dick inside me. Not that I was going to confess.