“Please do,” she murmurs, getting lost in the sensation of me slowly dragging her panties and jeans down her long, slender legs. Pushing her shoes, socks, and other clothing onto the floor, I bend down.
“Such soft skin.” My voice sounds different, deeper, as I kiss the inside of her right leg. I listen to my delight as she moans and tries to catch her breath. Each kiss on each leg pushes her more and more, but I keep her legs open as she squirms.
Reaching her pussy, I kiss her center, gauge her sharp, “Noah,” and smile.
“Absolutely beautiful.” I kiss her again and slowly drop my mouth open, tasting her. All of her.
“Noah—oh, God.” She fists the sheets.
“You’re so wet, all for me…it’s insane,” I murmur mostly to myself, but she shudders having heard me, and I smile against her.
I gently suck her, making small strokes, and she grips the bedsheets. Harder. I harden as she moans and fists my hair. I love this. Love the taste of her. How she’s getting so riled up, each time I flick my tongue and call her sweet names, “beautiful,” “gorgeous,” “perfect,” that fall out of my mouth and onto her soaking center. I grip the backs of her knees and fling her legs onto my back. I can’t get enough of how fucking delicious she tastes. I need more.
She giggles loudly. “Fuck, Noah. Get a little caveman on me, why don’t ya?”
“Sorry.” I come up for air, and she stares at me with glossy eyes, and messy blonde hair. “I can’t get enough of you. You just taste so fucking good.” I dip my head and continue making random patterns.
“For fuck’s—ah!” She throws her head back and holds mine. She’s gripping me for dear life, it seems. But I don’t mind. In fact, I love it. So much I have a boner the more she tugs.
I imagine I’m painting our bodies joined together. Starting with her long legs tangled with mine, ending with her pouty red lips. I envision her eyes stretched closed, my mouth tracing her soft neck. In real life, she’s moaning and writhing.
“Oh, Noah,” she moans as my tongue gently lays against her, swirling.
“Let go, Rossa,” I instruct, my voice low and vibrating against her. It sends her over the edge because she screams my name, and I taste every inch of her arousal. I harden so much, I’m pretty sure I came in my pants. Her hips buck in the air, and I press her down, my hands flat on her abdomen. I smile like an idiot as she whines my name as she comes down from her high. Her sounds, the way she’s reaching for me, is so fucking sexy. I want to make her scream that way again.
“Did you like that, Rossa?” I ask teasingly as I kiss my way up to her. She’s rolling her eyes and pushing at my chest when I sidle up next to her. I hold her to me, and she stares into my eyes with a dazed smile, a wild blonde curl resting on her cheek.
“I loved it…whatever your name is in Italian.” Her voice takes on a sexy, raspy tone.
“It’s just Noah; yours is different because it’s a color.”
“Fuck you.” She laughs.
“Will you?” I bounce my brows.
Hers raise and she pushes my shoulder, straddling me. “Gladly.”
“Wait.” I grab her hips, stopping her from moving. “I already…you know…”
She looks utterly puzzled, and then it dawns on her and she’s all smirking. “I’m that hot you busted a—”
“Please. Save me from the embarrassment.” I cover my face with my hands, but she pulls them away and chuckles, hovering over me like a breathtaking angel.
“No way. If I made you come in your pants just by getting head from you, just imagine how I’d be in bed. With you. And your excited fella down there,” she says with a huge, shit-eating grin.
“Stop, you’re killing me,” I groan and roll around, clutching my groin.
“Me in a bikini. No. Naked. Honey dripping down my—” I put a hand over her mouth, and she laughs against it as I straddle her, putting a pillow between us…down there.
“I’m all tapped out from tonight. And another word out of you…” I say between my own laughter as her cheeks turn bright pink, eyes scrunched closed. “I might explode. So, if you will. Please.” I remove my hand enough to lean my forehead against hers, prolonging her heavenly laughter by tickling her sides.
“Ah! No! I hate tickles. Stop, stop, stop—STOP!” she roars, but I don’t listen. I throw the pillow away and wrap her in the thin bedsheet. I continue my assault, gauging her red face and that damn dimple on the left corner of her mouth. I kiss it, her lips, her neck—everywhere my hungry lips can get.
The ringing of a phone interrupts. I plan to ignore it, enjoying making her laugh too much, but she pats my arms. Sighing dramatically, I sit back on the heels of my feet. “Whoever that is better be damn important,” I say playfully, and she chuckles, but it dies down to nothing as she fishes her phone out and stares at the screen.
“Everything okay?” I ask after a while of silence and her staring at the phone.
I hear her breath intake.
“Red?” I walk over to her and move to put a hand on her shoulder. But she flinches away and stands up. Her eyes are wide, and I swear I see fear in them before she turns from me. She begins to get dressed and throws the sheet at me. I catch it and stand up, trying to catch her eyes.
“Hey, Red. Red. What’s wrong? Where are you going?”
“I’m…I have to go. I’m sorry.” She buttons her jeans and moves for her shirt, jacket, and shoes. I move to grab her hand, but she sidesteps it and runs out of the room like she’s on fire.
“Red, wait!” I follow after her, tripping on my shoes. The front door slams shut, or open, I can’t tell. My heart stumbles as I push to my feet and rush down the stairs. Damn, she moves fast! By the time I fling the front door open, she’s already peeling onto the road. My heart squeezes, and I blink rapidly as I try to make sense of what just happened. “Fuck!” I kick the front door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Red has been distant for quite some time. Since the last we were in my room, I haven’t heard from her much. She’s ignored me: every call, text, voicemail. I hate to say that I’m beginning to get used to it. The last time she left me on silent put me in a daze. I barely knew how to operate.
I’ve never cared about anyone before like I care about her, so when she drops off the face of the planet, it’s safe to say a part of me that’s linked to her in some way dies a little. And it’ll resurrect the moment I see her in the flesh, safe and sound.
Until then, I constantly feel like I’m on the edge of some seat. Waiting for the shoe to drop. Sitting by and expecting her to pop up and break things off with us. A sadist part of me is bouncing on his feet, wishing for her to end this brighter side of me she’s created. Hoping for her to come around with Tanner and screw him in front of me. Why not throw Ian in there as well? As long as she ruins whatever kind of chance we have. Just get it over with before my feelings for her blow up until it’s uncontrollable and I’m unable to recuperate.
Nonetheless, I’m worried about her. The look on her face before she up and left was haunted. Pained. And it looked like she’d been gutted from the inside out. I wanted to reach out, fix whatever broke her. But she slipped from my fingertips before I could even get a grasp on her. And she took my heart with her, my sanity. Leaving me with a cloudy, muggy mind that revolves around her.
I drew her in sketches and portraits in and out of the art club to keep myself occupied, to keep my sanity intact. But it doesn’t work. It never does. Not like touching her warm, soft skin. Knowing that she’s alive and well.
“Thinking about who you’re taking to the bonfire tonight?” a voice croons in my ear.
I look to my right and smile half-heartedly. “Hey, Beth.” Upon me saying her name, she twirls her chunky brown hair and bats her extended eyelashes.
Her glossy lips pull into a smile. “Hey, Noah,” she muses, then her touched-up eyebrows raise as if she’s expecting something to happen from me. I don’t understand until she sighs and giggles, touching
my arm as if I’m being silly. “Didn’t you just hear me? The bonfire. You know, the one the school’s throwing for the football team? To celebrate them being gods and winning all of the games so far.”
“I’m far from any god,” I tell her, and she cackles. Across from me, painting, Rachel looks to be stifling laughter after her friend. I suck my lips into my mouth to keep from laughing myself. Her laugh sure is…something else.
“But have you thought of bringing someone?” she asks, purrs more really, and touches my arm that’s resting on my thigh. Then her hand’s on my knee, sliding up my thigh…I stand up quickly. Red may be MIA, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t mean anything to me, that I don’t respect her and what we have…whatever that may be.
“I have to get more paint, but I’m going. It’d be great if you came too, I guess,” I say as politely as possible. Her face falls like I just told her her eyebrows are uneven. I give her a small smile before turning around and walking over to the art supply shelf. I don’t really need any paint, but I make it clear I just wanted to get away from her.
Now that she brought up the bonfire, I begin to think. The moment I heard about it, I was stoked and jumped to call and ask Red to accompany me but then remembered she apparently doesn’t answer her phone nowadays. My mood sank instantly, and I kept my mind busy, tried not to fall in a glum state that previously kept me hostage. I just wish she’d answer me, just once, to let me know she’s okay so I don’t have to wonder if she’s in a ditch somewhere. My stomach churns at the idea, and I inwardly hit myself. I can’t think that way or I’ll go nuts.
“You okay there, Noah?” a smaller voice asks, one that doesn’t drip with forced seduction.
I look over and find Rachel flashing me a tiny, worried smile. “I’m fine. Not the greatest…” I sigh and run a hand over my hair. “But I’m fine, I guess. I just keep thinking about her, you know?” I know she doesn’t approve of Red and me, but I like to confide in her. She’s been a great friend to me; I shouldn’t keep this from her. She’s an excellent listener and knows how to stop thinking so cynically.
“I thought we talked about this,” she says. “Give her some time and space. She’ll come around eventually.”
“Easier said than done,” I mutter, referring to the cluster of text messages sitting on Red’s phone, sitting unread or read and she just doesn’t care enough to reply. Fuck, she’s great at making me feel like utter shit.
“Maybe she’s going through something personal, like a family matter or something,” Rachel defends, which throws me off for a second. She isn’t exactly Red’s greatest advocate. She’s warned me about her time and time again, but I never listened, and now that she’s proving to be “bad for me,” I expected Rachel to be all I told you so and continue telling me why Red’s horrible, but she hasn’t done any of it. She’s by my side and helping me through it all, and I can’t thank her enough.
“You’re right, as usual.” I roll my eyes jokingly, and she pinches me. I howl in pain, and she just laughs, clapping her hands for emphasis. “No need to laugh at my pain,” I say, and she sticks her tongue out at me. “Anyway, about the bonfire…are you going? Of course you are. Your brother’s on the team. But you can always wait for me after the game ends.”
Before the bonfire, we’re playing another school. Whether we win or lose, I hope the energy at the party is high and mighty. I need a positive vibe to get me through this Red funk. Just a glance of her around campus isn’t enough to keep me satisfied. It drove me even wilder because it was like I got a taste of her presence but wasn’t allowed to touch her, not really. She’s like a ghost, and I am the only one who understands and sees her.
“Sounds like a plan.” Her eyes dart behind me, and she laughs in her hand before looking back at me. “I think Beth’s waiting to draw you. Either that and she’s just outright painting your butt.”
“What?” I turn around, and sure enough, Beth’s eyes are focused on my butt, but now that I’m turned around, she’s staring at the front of my pants. Even though I wave at her to get her attention and she blatantly waves back, her eyes zone in again, and she paints even more ferociously.
Rachel is hunched over in laughter.
***
“Noah, watch out!” Rachel screams, her eyes wide as she stares at something behind me.
I turn around quickly but am too late. I drop my cup of vodka soda as Mike and Ty run up to me. I hold out my hands as if that can guard me from water or whatever the hell they’re tossing on me. The substance is full in volume and doesn’t sting my eyes, which luckily means it isn’t alcohol. A scream and a string of incoherent curses leave my lips as I hear an empty thud by my feet. When I take a step forward, my shoes squeak, completely drenched with water against now-soggy grass. I don’t take any more steps, terrified of feeling my wet socks. And everyone knows how truly disgusting wet socks are—just ugh.
It takes a while of me digging my fingertips in my ears, but when the water finally pops out, the muffled laughter and chanting is clear, and my anger zeroes in on the two idiots hunched over in laughter. I am going to kill them, I decide as an extreme gust of wind brushes against my drenched clothes attached to my skin like a second one.
They’re so busy laughing that they don’t see me rushing over to them. But one of my teammates calls out like the asshole he is, drawing their attention. They finally look up at me, and their expressions transform into fear as I begin chasing them.
“I’m gonna kill your asses!” I scream on the top of my lungs. It’s only drowned out by joyous laughter from people enjoying the show. Winding through couples and groups and around the bonfire itself—twice—I catch up with Mike. I tackle him to the ground and flip him over. I begin punching his stomach, but not seriously. He flips us over, and we tumble around in the grass. We’re trapped in a bubble of laughter and shrieking and people recording that it all becomes ridiculous, and we end up bursting into laughter ourselves.
Everyone is buzzing with such positive energy because we won the game today. And staff members and professors are blatantly turning their heads as we openly drink around the fire, which just sounds so stupid, but we won, so who cares? I try not to wonder if they’d be this giddy if we’d lost. Most likely, I think, because by the looks of it, everyone’s having a great time dancing to the ear-shattering music and the concession stand migrated to the large, grassy area outside of the stadium.
“Help me up, you fucker!” I groan and hold out my hand. He grabs it and tugs me up. I jump on the balls of my feet, groaning again as I wring out the water out of my jersey. “Jesus, Mike! I’m soaked and it’s colder than Elsa’s balls out here,” I complain, grimacing as the wind decides to punish me some more with a gust. I could get pneumonia, for Christ’s sake!
“Calm down, Ms. Prissy. They’re handing out blankets by the hot dog stand,” he tells me and points in the direction of the concession. “Apparently it’s chilly and players are getting splashed with water,” he muses and chuckles as he looks me up and down. My clothes are pressed to my skin and my hair is stuck to my forehead, which I hastily brush back behind my ears, the curls tickling the tip of them.
“Why, thank you,” I jokingly hiss, and he laughs. I begin to walk over to get a blanket when I see Ty tip-toeing behind him. I smile from ear to ear and step back, ready to watch justice be made. “And thank you, Ty.”
“What?” His face scrunches up in confusion until Ty and a few other guys help raise a bucket filled with water over his head and tip it forward. Gallons of water splash onto his head, and he skyrockets into a fit of rage before the entire thing can soak him.
“Traitor!” he screams before running after his friend.
All around, players are either drenched or on the lookout. They’re such dicks—Mike and Ty especially—but they’re just pumped about our win. And I’m one of those pumped dicks…God, that sounds so wrong. Good thing no one can read minds.
Wrapping a fleece blanket around my shoulders, I watch as Rac
hel comes up to me, laughing. Without saying a word, she guides me over to the raging bonfire.
“Really? You’re laughing at me? And here I thought we were friends,” I tease lightly, teeth chattering like those model teeth in dentist offices. I rub the blanket against my body, hoping I won’t take long to dry. And thank God my phone died and is back at the house charging. I would have really killed them if they destroyed my phone.
Don’t call me insane or creepy, but I stole a snap-picture of Red when we were at the fair. We were tossing rings on bottles, and I had just won her a giant fluffy pink teddy bear. She was holding it up like Simba from The Lion King. And she had this—this smile on her face. It was so consuming, it took up every inch of her face, and she had this light in her eyes. I took out my phone, snapped a shot, then basked in the moment before her stomach rumbled and she made me buy her a churro, one of her absolute favorite treats ever.
I wrote that down in my memos. I had planned to buy her a whole case of them, tie them to the bear and surprise her with them the next time I saw her. But that hasn’t happened. So, that leaves me, a fool, reaching out to somebody who obviously doesn’t like me as much as I like her.
“Hey, I’m sorry I laughed.” Rachel touches my wrist. Her eyes glow against the flames, a shadow spreading over her frown. “I just found your face kind of hilarious. And getting splashed unexpectedly is generally funny—”
I hold up a hand. “It’s fine, really. I wasn’t all silent because of that.” I pause and look away from her, ashamed to say, “I was just thinking about…her.”
“Oh,” she says.
“Yeah. I’m horrible. I know. But I just can’t stop. It’s like walking in on your parents wrapping Christmas presents. You’ve faithfully believed Santa was real, and with one mistake, the truth is revealed and you’re left heartbroken.” I shake my head. I’m probably not even making any sense. “I don’t know. I just thought she could confide in me. Thought we had something more concrete. But I guess not. I mean, she hasn’t even answered even one of my texts. Just an ‘alive’ would have sufficed, you know?”
Red: Burning Desire (Spectrum Series Book 7) Page 17