My eyes flutter open to a man who is all hard lines and ridges. His jaw is set in determination as the golden flecks in his eyes dance with fire. I’ve never seen Noah look this way before. I’ve never heard him be so demanding.
“Do you want to stop?”
“No.” My voice comes across strong. I want this, damn it. I want this more than anything. He nods as if understanding my plea. I want you to take me, Noah, but I also want to hide.
“Then, undress me.”
The command alarms me, but I obey. My hands tremble as I work his shirt buttons one at a time until the sides fall open. With his chest exposed, I soak in the man before me. The irony isn’t lost on me that I don’t allow him the same gratification. My gaze flickers to his in a silent plea to explore his body.
His face is stoic as he nods. His voice is gritty as he speaks. “Take your time, removing my shirt.”
Permission received, I place my palms on his lower abdomen and trace along every hard surface. My fingers glide along the dips and curves of his ripped abdomen, and across the planes of his chest. Perfection mixed with carnal pleasure. I run my hands along his broad shoulders and his biceps, bringing the shirt with me until it falls and joins my dress on the floor.
“Undo my pants.” His voice comes across softer but just as unyielding and demanding. I hesitate for a beat, but his expression stays stern. I swallow back my trepidation and flick his button open, the metallic sound of the zipper filling the air. His breath stutters as I slide his pants off, my hand grazing his dick. “Now, my briefs.”
My heart beats faster but from arousal this time. He’s letting me take my time and keeping his hands by his side as I explore every facet of him. And explore, I do. Like earlier, I run my hands along his ridges, soaking in the pleasure of his muscles tightening beneath my palms. He’s so ripped. I lean forward and place my lips where my hands had been. This causes his head to tip back and eyes to close. The sharp intake of air has my thighs clenching. I’m doing this to him. Me.
“You’re driving me crazy.”
That’s the idea. Fueled by desire, I take my time climbing back up his body. He stands there, absorbing every sensation the sweep of my fingertips and brush of my lips cause. His soft moans and whispered “This feels incredible” and “Yeah, baby” feed the flames of my desire and have me yearning to please him more.
When I reach his shoulders, he places his palms over my hands and directs me to the bed. His lips close over mine, and a rush of heat floods my body. I’m so ready for him. It isn’t until he has me lying on my back with him hovering above me that I realize he used his body as a distraction. My chest swells with appreciation from the notion. He always takes care of me.
Noah shifts and places his lips against the camisole covering my breasts. My nipples instantly harden, and an appreciative groan rumbles through him. He takes full advantage, sucking and licking what I’m graciously offering. Staying on the outside of the shirt, his hand cups the other breast while he tweaks my nipple. Tingles shoot across my body and head straight to my core. I’m this close to begging for relief.
Noah kisses a path as he runs his hands along my sides, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. He keeps this assault until his fingers hook around the edge of my underwear, and he tugs them lower. Then he shifts his attention to my legs, giving them the same appreciation he has for my abdomen. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, my heart hammers in my chest as he gently spreads my thighs apart. I sneak a peek, wanting to see him between my legs, and holy crap, the look in his eyes. It’s hungry and shameless and has me offering myself up for sacrifice. His finger slides against my wetness, and we both moan. I want to be embarrassed by how slick I am, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than how good this feels. He thrusts a finger inside and works it back and forth. He dips lower and runs his tongue along my slit, stopping just below my clit. I squirm from the puff of air he gently huffs. He clamps his other hand on my hip, holding me in place, and then sweeps his tongue ever so lightly against the bundle of nerves. Tingles race along my core. He backs off and licks his way back to where his finger slides in and out. I’m lost in a sea of aroused bliss. His tongue replaces his finger, and he proceeds to fuck me with his tongue. My stomach coils from the overwhelming sensations. I feel him everywhere.
“Noah.” His name rolls off my lips in a plea for more.
He strokes his tongue against me one more time before moving to my clit. But this time, he slides two fingers inside. Before I appreciate the fullness, he licks and sucks until the ball inside my stomach uncoils. My hips buck off the mattress as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes through me. I’m so sated the tear of the wrapper barely registers. But when he positions himself between my legs, the scope of what’s happening refuels my want, releasing a new set of jitters.
“You sure you’re ready?” Noah asks, looking directly at me.
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in my voice. I’m beyond ready.
Noah’s gaze holds mine as he lines the tip of his cock at my entrance. In a strangled voice, he says, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to be inside you.”
His admission both throws me and puts me at ease. The same can be said about him. Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, his mouth catching my gasp, as he pushes inside. Years of wanting, yearning for no one but him, come to a head as our bodies join. I didn’t think it was possible to fall deeper for him, but at this moment, that’s precisely what I do.
“You’re so fucking tight.” His voice comes across raspy and strained as if it’s taking all of his will to not move. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. It feels…” Like home. Like we’re made for each other. I settle on “Good.”
“It feels better than good, Sprinkles. Being inside you feels fucking incredible.”
“Agreed.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. The humor in his eyes dissolves to longing when his gaze locks with mine. “Is it okay to move?”
My tongue dips to wet my bottom lip. The initial sting fades to want only he can fill. “Please.”
He starts slow, moving his pelvis in circles as he pulls back and eases forward. He pauses after each pass, allowing my body to adjust and accept him fully. And boy, does my body take him. Seated deep inside me, he feels incredible. I clutch his sides and hang on as my teenage fantasies become a reality. He’s everything I’ve imagined and so much more. But it’s the way he looks at me with the unguarded look—predatory and merciless—that tells me I’m not breakable. That the last thread of worry severs from feeling desired and wanted.
I move my hips to match his movements, which prompts him to increase the tempo. The increased pressure fuels my desire as the sensations heighten. He bites his lip and drives into me faster. Those hazel eyes hold mine hostage as our connection deepens. Soft moans mix with words.
“You feel so good.”
“Noah.” His name is spoken like a prayer as the familiar warmth spreads to my core, tightening my muscles. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist, which has him moaning in approval.
“Yeah, babe, just like that.” He no longer holds back, thrusting into me faster, deeper. I cry out as the sensations intensify. “Yes. Oh God, yes.”
His finger finds my clit and massages my flesh circularly. I revel in the extra pressure, the fullness of his cock seated deep inside me. The tension builds upon itself until I can’t take any more, and my body writhes beneath his, falling victim to the eternal bliss for the second time in one night.
“Fuck, Shannon.” Noah grinds out a guttural groan full of raw fervor as he pumps through his release. He collapses on top of me, body tacky from sweat and smelling every bit masculine and mine. I love this man. I think I loved him from the very first time he showed up at our house wearing his baseball uniform. There has always been a draw. Maybe, one day, I’ll regret falling so hard for him, but I’ll never regret having him be my first. It took until this moment to realize Caleb turning me down wasn�
�t a bad thing after all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Noah
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hangs in the air as bacon sizzles and pops in the pan. I spin on my heels to the sound of pattering feet and stifle a groan. The most beautiful girl stands by the island wearing nothing but my jersey that cuts off mid-thigh. Her messy bun sits on top of her head while those long, tanned legs I love so much are on full display. My mind wanders to what she’s wearing underneath the jersey.
“Morning.” Her voice comes out low and unsure but with no signs of regret. I’m not going to lie. A part of me worried she would have regrets. Last night was amazing. I knew having sex with her would mean more to me than when I had it with anyone else, but I didn’t expect to connect on such a deep level. If there had been regrets on her end, it would have fucking killed me.
“Good morning.” I abandon the stove and pull her into a hug. I have two goals in mind: squash any uneasiness that’s plaguing her mind and cop a feel. My dick jumps in appreciation of her bare ass cheek in my palm. Believe me, I wanted to stay in bed longer, but the fact she may be sore shut down thoughts of any morning action. She was too tempting lying there, so I forced myself to leave to keep from ravaging her. “I have your cinnamon roll on a plate and made you coffee. The bacon’s about done, and then, I’ll make us some eggs.”
“Thanks. Everything smells delicious.”
“Not as good as you.” I lower my lips to her neck and kiss behind her ear. She squeals right as the grease pops in the pan.
“Oh shit.” I back away from her and attend to the pan as her laughter fills the air.
“Don’t burn my breakfast. I’m starving.”
I smirk, taking full credit for her famished state. She was sated after I cleaned her up. As soon as she snuggled against me, she crashed.
Shannon pours herself a cup of coffee and then looks around the kitchen, her brows puckering and leaving me slightly confused. She drinks her coffee black unless that changed. “Did you want something else? I thought you took your coffee black. We’re out of creamer, but there’s some milk.”
“No, you’re right. I was looking for the bread. Did you want any toast?”
“Oh, no. Not with the cinnamon roll, but the toaster is over here.”
“I suppose you’re right. Too many carbs.” She walks over toward me and opens the drawer by my right hip. She grabs two forks and points to the bacon I’m transferring to the plate. “I’m surprised you’re eating bacon.”
“I figured we needed extra protein to combat those carbs from the cinnamon roll.” She’s right. I don’t eat sweets too often and stay away from greasy foods. Ever since reading how proper nutrition could keep ALS symptoms at bay, I’ve stuck to a healthy diet regime. I’ll try everything in my power to not end up like my father. I move the bacon to the platter lined with a paper towel and then crack the eggs open in the frying pan.
“Last night was fun. Thanks for taking me to my first carnival.” She leans her backside against the counter, sipping her coffee.
“Anytime. I’m glad I got to take part in that first experience.” My lips twitch when her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. She tries to hide behind a sip of coffee. I didn’t quite mean that the way it came out, but it’s certainly the truth. I wish I could give her all of her firsts.
“You still like your eggs over easy, right?” My question earns me a soft smile.
“I do. I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I remember everything about you.” Our gazes connect and hold. From the way she takes her coffee to the way she likes her eggs, there isn’t much about this girl I don’t know.
She blinks and shakes her head as if she needs to orient herself. She clears her throat before speaking. “Is Dalton still gone?”
“I haven’t heard him stir. I suspect he crashed somewhere.” I flip the eggs as another wave of blush creeps along her face. She takes a sip.
“Can you grab two plates?”
She sets her coffee mug down and swings around to face the cabinet. The corners of my mouth lift to a smile when she hands them to me. The move is simple but causes me to pause. Her drinking coffee and helping in the kitchen seems like the most natural thing in the world. It’s as if she belongs here with me. We’ve spent most of our life together in one form or another. This morning, I get a glimpse of what a future with Shannon could be like. Shit. I mentally scold myself. Those thoughts have no use inside my brain. We had an incredible night together, which I plan on continuing. That doesn’t mean I’ll be asking Mr. Smith’s permission for Shannon’s hand in marriage just yet. Jesus, Noah, get a grip.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.” I take the plates from her and transfer the eggs onto it. Next, I top the dish off with the bacon. “So, what are your plans for today?”
“Nothing major. Just studying and working on my designs.”
I bite back a frown. Bringing up her designs reminds me of what Marla said at the bar. I won’t ruin the moment by mentioning her name—I’m not that stupid—but I hope Marla isn’t causing her problems. I try asking in a roundabout way as we saunter toward the table. “How’s the design class going?”
Shannon’s eyes brighten, and she gets that look on her face she gets whenever she talks about her passion. “It’s going really well. I’ve made some prototypes trying to get a feel for how they’ll wear. I’ve narrowed down my fabric choices.”
I nod. She isn’t mentioning any trouble with Marla, but I know Shannon well enough. She’d never talk about any struggles voluntarily. Trying not to be conspicuous, I prod for more information. “How’s the competitive landscape looking?”
Her smile slips. If I weren’t studying her face, I would have missed it. I want to punch the wall when she forces her smile wider. “What competition?”
“Good attitude.” I laugh, dropping my inquisition. She clearly doesn’t want to talk about anything bothering her. I won’t press. Now isn’t the time. “I thought we’d either chill today for a while or maybe have lunch in the park?”
Whatever she wants to do is fine by me. I just don’t want our date to end. Braxton and Cara’s flight doesn’t get in until tomorrow. Once they return, we’ll have to go back to sneaking around.
My stomach tightens at the thought. After Monday’s practice, I’ll have a talk with Braxton. I’m his best friend. He surely won’t have a problem with me dating his sister. Who better can he trust?
She takes a sip of coffee, eyeing me over the rim. “Why don’t we just spend the day in. I’d rather it just be us.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Yeah?” Her eyebrow quirks as a mischievous gleam coats her eyes.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.” I smile at her laugh. “Are you sore?”
She chews her eggs and swallows. “A little. But it’s not something awful. Like, it felt good, you know.”
I know. Believe me, I know.
I don’t say that, though. But being inside her felt like home. I just wish she’d trust me enough to take off all of her clothes. I know she’s conscientious about her scars, but she doesn’t need to be. Shannon’s beautiful regardless and possesses an inner beauty all on her own. I won’t push. If leaving her shirt on makes her feel more confident, then, so be it. I want her to feel as comfortable as she possibly can. And I have all the patience in the world.
“I like this,” I admit.
“What exactly do you like?”
“You being here with me. Relaxed.” I stab into my eggs and take a bite. This normalcy makes me believe in things I shouldn’t. That what we have between us is real and obtainable. That what we have has legs.
“I like it too. But my brother will be back tomorrow.”
I take a breath. “Yeah, we need to come up with a plan to tell him.”
She flashes her blue eyes to me. “There’s no hurry. Not that I don’t want to tell him, but you know how he’ll react. He’s not g
oing to be happy.”
“Yeah, I know.” I just don’t like keeping this a secret. It’s not fair to her nor him. “What we have between us is real. He needs to realize that.”
The smile she gives me makes the awkward conversation worth it. I just need to figure out a way to tell my best friend.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Noah
One thing about being sidelined during practice—I have way too much time on my hands. Rehabbing my ankle and pondering ways to keep my position should take precedence over everything else. Instead, my mind replays the best ways to tell Braxton I’ve developed feelings for his sister. Scratch that. That I’ve finally found my balls and acted on said feelings. I just don’t know the best way to approach the conversation. Should I ease into it and get a feel for him—see where he stands before pleading my case—or dive in headfirst?
He came home late yesterday, still riding the high of hanging with professional ballplayers all weekend. God, what I’d give to be in his situation. Before Cara’s brother came to the Dodgers, he played for the Philadelphia Phillies. He got to celebrate the home team’s win in Philadelphia and then later hangout with the Phillies infield. Lucky bastard. Maybe, I’ll get lucky, and his mood will still be high from the weekend when I tell him.
“Geren,” Coach yells, heading over to me. I make sure to jog over and meet him halfway, so he can witness the strength of my ankle. The stubborn bastard still won’t let me behind the plate.
“Coach.” I nod at his approach.
“You looked good during the practice swings. The trainers tell me your conditioning is right on track. How’s the ankle feeling?”
“I feel good. Pain-free.”
“Let’s give it another couple of weeks. I want you at a hundred percent.”
“I’ve been working with Harry on his pop time but would like to demonstrate a few moves. Would it be okay to show him?” Even though Harry has settled in nicely in my position, his pop time is still slightly off. Instructing him how to maneuver the feet is harder when all I’m allowed to do is tell him instead of show him.
Behind the Count: Cessna U Wildcats Book Two Page 16