“No.” Disappointment blazed across her face and then her eyes narrowed. Her small, cool hand wrapped around his cock. “Noah…?”
Stupid. Bad idea. The date of his vasectomy loomed before his eyes. This was exactly why he needed one, situations like this. “Can’t fuck you raw.”
“I know,” she said, sounding tortured.
But despite their agreement, the head of his cock was rubbing up against her slit, toying with what they shouldn’t do. He reached down, guiding her movements. She moaned whenever he brushed her clit, clutching his shoulders. The streaks on her cheeks looked like war paint, her mouth was red as blood.
“Please,” she moaned. “Please?”
He never…he shouldn’t…but this was Nicole DaSilva begging for him. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He slid his cock to her opening, his brain buzzing, his mind on nothing but how she’d feel around him. He spit in his palm and slicked it along the length of his cock. “You want it?”
“Yes. Please.”
There was no subtlety in what came next. He shoved his cock inside her like a soldier planting a flag, showing what he owned, what he’d fought for. She gasped as he stretched her wide, arching her back, trying to get more. “Noah…you’re so big.”
He gritted his teeth. She felt like heaven, and stuff like that was only going to end it way too early. He needed her to make a lot less noise. He picked up his t-shirt, pulling the opening over her head.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was muffled, but he could hear her excitement as he covered her face. “Keep quiet. Keep quiet and get fucked.”
She whimpered, pushing back on his cock. He bound the t-shirt around her chin in a loose knot she could tear off if she needed to get free. Her moan made a fucking animal out of him. He pushed deep, gripping like he never wanted to let go. He knew it couldn’t get her off, but he couldn’t slow down. They needed more time for that. More time and a room that wasn’t the place she used to fuck her ex. The thought got him so pissed, he spanked her already reddened ass. “Say my name.”
She shuddered, her cunt tightening around him. “Noah!”
He’d semi-gagged her but now all he wanted to do was hear her talk. “Louder.”
“Noah!”
He fucked her for a furious minute, watching her writhe and grind against him, breathing hard against his t-shirt.
“Feel good?”
She nodded, his t-shirt swaying around her face.
“Tell me it feels good. Tell me it’s the best you’ve ever had.”
“It’s the best, it feels so, so good.”
But it wasn’t the same, having her parrot his own words back to him. He slid out, patting her hips. “Get on your back.”
Nicole nodded furiously. “You want me.”
His smile became something altogether soppy because it was part brag and all revelation. Somehow, in fucking her bareback with a t-shirt on her head, she finally understood he was into this as much as she was. More. His chest throbbed, touched in some indefinable way. He gritted his teeth. “Close your eyes and take my dick. I want you to come.”
He moved between her legs, hands pressed to the floor above her shoulders. He fucked her as slow as he could without busting, dragging himself in and out—thinking about football, about Monet. Even, when she drew tight and slippery around him, The Rangers.
“Noah,” she whispered.
God, it was fucking corkscrews not to come. “Yes, baby?”
She shook her head from side to side, her teeth sank into her lip.
“Gonna come?”
She nodded, making his t-shirt slip so he could see her flushed cheeks.
“So come. Say my name while you do it.”
She opened her mouth, as though to say something, but then her lips pressed together and he knew she wouldn’t speak. He drove inside her, watching, feeling. She came screaming his name, her hands raking his shoulders. When she was done, she laughed, shaking all over. “Noah…”
“Hold on.” He was now so close it hurt. He closed his eyes and pressed deep, feeling the pressure pulling him down. In seconds, heat was burning through him and he collapsed into her, breathing like he’d run a marathon. “Jesus.”
Nicole’s hands smoothed across his back, cool as a bathroom floor. “Good?”
He nodded, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair.
She giggled. “Are you going to move again?”
“Maybe…” Realising he was crushing her, he rose onto his palms. “You okay?”
She beamed, and then her expression changed so fast, it was almost funny. Her nostrils flared, her mouth flattened. He could only see from her nose down, but it was obvious she was freaked out. “What? What is it?”
But she cupped a hand between her legs. “We…without a condom.”
Jesus. This was why you never did what he’d just gone and fucking done. “I’m sorry, Nikki—”
“Don’t be.” Her voice was hard. “I told you to do it.”
“If you’re worried about getting pregnant…” He had no idea how to finish that statement. I make great toast? I’ll pay if you want to get rid of it? I wouldn’t mind being tied to you like that, Nikki.
The doorbell cut him off before he could say anything stupid, ringing loudly somewhere beneath them. He froze. “Who’s—”
“I have no idea.” Nicole whipped his t-shirt off her head, looking terrified. “It can’t be Aaron, he wouldn’t knock.”
That obvious fact got his heart going again. “Maybe a salesperson or something?”
“I’m not sure.” Still pale, Nicole stood, pulling his t-shirt over her head. It fell almost to her knees, a baggy black dress. She grabbed the box of tissues off the side table and swiped one between her legs. Then, to his irritation, she ran to the pile of Aaron’s shit, extracted her watch and snapped it over her tattoo. “Stay here. I’ll see who it is.”
Before he could say anything, she was padding down the stairs. He considered going after her, thought better of it and slumped back on the floor, utterly wrecked. He listened, female voices drifting up toward him. He couldn’t make out what they were saying. His head was pounding. Had he just barebacked Nicole in her ex-fiancé’s bedroom? He didn’t want to be proud of it, but some caveman part of him was beating his chest and telling him to wipe his dick on Aaron’s pillow.
Nicole returned a few minutes later, looking mortified. “Oh my gosh…”
He sat up. “Everything okay?”
She pressed her hands to her mouth, avoiding his eyes. “Yes, it was Mrs Harris.”
“What did she want?”
“She thought…well…” Nicole giggled and he felt his mood lift. She was happy. That meant everything, no matter how bad, was okay.
“She thought I was robbing the place?”
“Basically.” Nicole giggled. “Sorry, it’s just funny. She’s such a prude and when she saw I answered the door, her eyebrows shot up her forehead. She asked me if I was comfortable being alone with you.”
“What’d you say?”
She gestured at his t-shirt. “I don’t think I had to say anything.”
He laughed, feeling like a boulder had been rolled off his chest. “She knew you were fucking the robber?”
“You’re not a robber!” Nicole looked offended on his behalf and it was so sweet, he had to hold her. He reached forward, grabbing her legs and pulling her onto his chest. She went down willingly, mock-pounding at his chest and shoulders. “Let me go.”
“No,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’m not done stealing from you.”
She turned her serious navy eyes onto him. “You’re not stealing from me, I want you to take things from me, and I’m sorry about before. I’m on the pill, I’m not worried about getting pregnant, it’s just…”
“Yeah?”
She kissed him, light and soft. “I like sleeping with you.”
It was a compliment, but not what he wanted to hear. As she bent to kiss him again, he realised he wa
s fucked. He was in love with Nicole. Stupidly in love, and all the talking-to’s in the world weren’t going to change that.
Fuck.
Chapter 15
Nicole turned and looked up at the house. Strange how once upon a time it had been her dream, the place where her real life would begin.
“Anything else?” Noah asked.
He’d been weirdly formal since they’d gotten up from the floor. A way to let her know she shouldn’t get serious, maybe? Or perhaps he was just bored. She rubbed her palm on her shorts, trying to rid herself of the itchiness that had sprung there.
Stop it, she told herself. Just because he isn’t all over you doesn’t mean he’s given you something. And he hasn’t given you something. And if he has, it doesn’t matter. But he hasn’t. Because he told you he got tested three months ago and he always uses protection.
Somewhere in her mind, Sam cackled. Yeah, because no dude has ever said that and not meant it.
“Shut up,” she whispered.
“Sorry?”
God, that was all she needed—for Noah to think she talked to herself, or more specifically, her sisters in her mind. She turned on him with a TV host smile. “I think we’re all good! Thanks so much!”
“Uh, sure,” he said, eyebrows raised. “So, we done?”
“I think so.” She looked at the house once more. The carcass of her old life. All she had to do was lock the front door, leave her key in the letterbox and it would be done. Why did that feel so anticlimactic?
“You want a minute?”
He meant alone, possibly to cry or do whatever it was heartbroken people did, but she wasn’t heartbroken. While she was packing her last box upstairs, she’d allowed herself to imagine staying, pulling her things out of the boxes and resuming her life with Aaron.
That had been heartbreaking. She’d cried into her winter coats. Despite the unprotected sex, her unresolved life and her unknown relationship to the man beside her, she’d known the only way was forward. The decision to leave felt good. Strong and light, like Plexiglas. She was determined not to question it.
She smiled at Noah. “I’m fine. Do you want to get some dinner?”
“Uh…yeah? Around here? Or…where do you want to go?” It was cute to see him off balance, this man who’d screwed her on her old bedroom floor.
“I was thinking about The Lighthouse. They do amazing salt and pepper crab.”
“Crab?”
“I feel like celebrating.”
He smiled then, one of those slow smiles that made her insides feel like sugar dissolving into warm milk. “Sure, let’s get crab.”
“Great!” She realised she was wearing cotton shorts. “I might go inside and change, if that’s okay?”
“No problem.” He gestured to his black t-shirt and jeans. “As long as you don’t mind that all I have is this.”
“That’s fine.” She raced around to the back of the van and grabbed the sports bag she’d filled with dresses. She hesitated, then grabbed the shoebox with the heels he’d called sexy. Why not? “I won’t be long.”
He smiled, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket. “Take your time, I’ll be here.”
He’s lovely, Nicole thought, heading back to the house. He should stop smoking though. Maybe I can give him that Alan Carr book Bethany read. She hasn’t smoked for eighteen months—
She stopped in the doorway, horrified. She and Noah were about to go out for dinner, the first thing between them that could remotely be called a date, and here she was, plotting a way to change him in her ex-fiancé’s house.
“Get a grip,” she told herself, heading into the lounge to change into her stretchy black fishtail dress. It was a little glam, but she wanted to look pretty.
For Noah? Maybe, but also for her future life. She’d escaped the momentum of her past. Surely that warranted some sparkles.
She pulled off her bra and then, remembering the dress’s clinginess, her underwear. They were damp from what she and Noah had done. Her nerves fizzed and she reminded herself it was unlikely that anything bad had happened.
But not impossible, Sam said.
I don’t want to think about that.
She tugged on her Jimmy Choos, wiggling her toes so they settled in the narrow fit. She and Sam had long toes—proof of our primate ancestors, Tabby always said. There was a bottle of Miss Dior in the sports bag, so she spritzed herself. She finger-combed her hair, regretting her makeup was miles away in Melbourne. She considered going upstairs and having a good rummage for stray foundation samples, but the sun was dipping and the last thing she wanted was a confrontation with Aaron.
She collected her discarded clothes and was about to shove them in her bag when she realised she didn’t want to. Whenever she wore them, she’d think of being here, in the middle of Aaron’s filth.
She had her nice dresses and her owl painting; she didn’t want anything else. Using the cups and plates would only remind her of her failed engagement—and the condom. She looked at the front door where Noah was waiting, smoking, thinking his Noah thoughts. Her lips curled into a smile.
I’m lucky, she realised. Aaron is the unlucky one.
Her heart racing, she walked to the foul-smelling kitchen and pulled the magnetic notepad and pen off the fridge. She scrawled as fast as she could.
Goodbye, Aaron. I’m going to have nightmares about the condom but it made going through with this so much easier. I’ll have a solicitor call about the house.
Good luck,
Nicole
She stuck the notepad back on the fridge, and her watch flashed in the lowlights. Her gut contracted.
She could keep it. It wasn’t her engagement ring, it was a nice Cartier watch. Sam and Tabby would let her get away with it. Noah didn’t like it, but he couldn’t tell her what to do. It was the same thing as getting rid of her tattoo—her choice. She let her hand fall back to her side, the watch feeling heavy as a shackle. She wished Noah had broken it. Thrown it on the floor and crushed it under his feet. He was an ex-biker who’d been to jail, if he hated the watch so much, why hadn’t he destroyed it?
Because he’s a good person, you idiot. He’s not going to curb stomp your eight thousand dollar watch.
She rocked on her toes, trying to think of another way. She glanced at her front door, picturing Noah leaning by the van, smoking. If she ended everything, many possibilities would have room to breathe, to test their strength.
What do you think? she asked her internal sisters.
Do it fast, Sam said.
Like a band-aid, Tabby added.
It came off with the flick of her thumbnail. She cupped it in her hands like pirate treasure. She held it up to the light and watched the diamonds glitter.
“Goodbye,” she said, kissing its face. “Thank you for being such a good watch. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be a metaphor.”
She draped it carefully over Aaron’s used condom, feeling a hundred kilograms lighter.
The sun was setting as she strode outside, but it seemed extra-bright, as though it was supercharging itself. Noah stared at her, smoke curling from his mouth. At first, she thought he’d noticed the lack of watch, then she remembered she was wearing a tight, showy dress and heels. “Like it?”
He nodded, his green eyes narrowed. “C’mere.”
She walked toward him, and because she was embarrassed, she did a little turn. He rubbed his jaw. “You…”
“Yes?”
“Never mind.” He pressed his non-cigarette hand to her waist, pulling her close. “I’d kiss you, but I’m pretty sure your neighbour’s watching.”
“She’s not my neighbour anymore.”
His lips were on hers before she’d barely finished the sentence. Kissing her like something out of a movie. He smelled like sweat and he tasted like cigarettes, and Nicole was certain her ex-neighbours were all watching from their windows, but it didn’t matter. When he pulled away, his green eyes were blazing, but she liked that he
didn’t say anything. That they could keep whatever was between them out of language and inside sensation.
“Should we go?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.
“Sure, hang on a sec.” He crushed his cigarette into the bottom of his shoe and flicked it onto her—Aaron’s—front lawn, where she noticed several butts were already lying like discarded bullet shells.
“Noah!”
His expression was deadpan. “What?”
She shook her head, unable to stop smiling. “Take me to dinner, please.”
He opened the passenger door to the van and, feeling oddly like a princess, she got in. “Thank you.”
“Sur…” He faltered, looking, for the first time since she’d known him, shocked. “You’re not wearing your—”
“I know. Don’t say anything. I’m raw and I might cry.”
“Fucking hell, Nikki—”
“I mean it, don’t talk!” But she laughed because it was so ridiculous to have to tell Noah Newcomb, the living wall, not to talk.
He leaned in and kissed her, soft and sweet on the mouth. “I won’t talk.”
“Don’t,” she warned as he pulled away. “Still don’t say anything.”
He didn’t, but there was a smile on his face as he headed around to the driver’s side of the van.
She directed him to The Lighthouse by memory. It was her favourite restaurant in Adelaide. She was always trying to drag Aaron, her friends, and colleagues there. It was, she reflected, probably the only thing she was going to really miss about the city.
“What kind of food do you like?” she asked Noah. “I know you have burgers all the time at work, but do you like Italian, or Indian, or Mexican?”
He smiled a little. “Sussing me for future date potential?”
Nicole felt herself flush. “No, just curious.”
“S’alright. Thai’s probably my favourite. You?”
Nicole almost said her automatic response—sushi—then realised she wasn’t at work or with friends or on a first date. Noah knew her family, which meant he’d probably already heard about her nugget obsession. “Fried chicken.”
So Steady: Silver Daughters Ink, Book Two (Silver Daughters Ink Book Two) Page 19