"I want you to come back to that bedroom with me. I want us to have these two nights, to get whatever this thing is between us out of our system. I feel like ... like we pushed a wheel into motion ten years ago, and we need this to make it stop."
If I'd grabbed the frayed edge of a live wire, it wouldn't have had as powerful of an effect on me. My whole body shuddered from the force of it.
"These two nights," I repeated.
She nodded slowly. "What happens in South Dakota, stays in South Dakota."
That she could make me smile at that moment should have terrified me, but it didn't. It felt right. And as she'd said, it felt inevitable.
Molly tilted her chin, inviting my kiss, but I shook my head. My thumb pulled at the generous curve of her lower lip.
"If I kiss you here, I won't be able to stop long enough to move to that bed, and if I get an entire night with you …" I dropped my forehead against hers and took a shuddering breath. "Then I need room to work."
Molly whimpered.
It was the last shred unraveling, the final cord splitting with an audible snap.
Slowly, leisurely, with a measure of control that I did not know I had left, I slid my hand down her shoulder, her arm, her wrist, and wove my fingers through hers. Then I led her back to the bedroom.
Chapter Twenty
Molly
Everything took on a filmy, hazy, decadent quality when the door clicked shut behind me. Like someone changed the filter through which I saw everything, and it shut my brain off in the same motion. My hands didn't even seem like they belonged to me when I pivoted and pushed Noah up against the door.
His expression was forbidding at the move, and I shivered.
"Take your shirt off," I ordered.
He jerked up his chin. "You first."
There was a moment when we both froze like that, unwilling to give up control to the other person. Then we collided. His mouth took mine, rough and hard and deep. His hands boosted underneath my ass, and I wrapped my legs around his waist.
Lips and teeth and tongue, slick and slippery and messy. I'd been waiting for this, I thought, since the moment I saw him in the elevator. Waiting for the strength of his body against mine, overpowering me in the best possible way.
He tasted minty and cool, and his tongue twined around mine as his fingers dug into my flesh until it hurt.
This wasn't sweet, and it wasn't slow as I tugged at his shirt.
I wanted my hands on him, now that I'd given myself permission for this. Nothing short of that would suffice until we were both gasping and spent and sweaty in the middle of that exceptionally large bed. He tossed me back onto it, and I bounced with a laugh.
But my laughter died at the look on his face.
This was a man pushed to the edge of his sanity. By me.
I'd done this to him, and it sent such a wet, hot rush of power through my body. Something overtook me at that realization, and I sat up on my knees as he ripped his shirt off and threw it onto the floor. My shirt went with it, and his eyes darkened even further as I laid back and started pushing my shorts down in slow, rolling movements of my hips.
"Stop," he growled.
My hands froze. One finger played idly with the elastic edge.
Noah shoved his shorts down, his boxer briefs with them, and I licked my lips at the sight of his glorious, glorious nakedness.
This was my best idea ever.
I didn't even realize I'd said it out loud until a wide, bright smile broke out over his face. That brief pause from the harsh, dangerous version of Noah, the one who looked ready to eat me whole, had a whole different effect on me. One that was just as potent.
"It's been a while for me," he admitted, sliding his hands up my legs as they fell open for him.
"Has it?" I gasped, tilting my chin up when he caught the edge of my shorts with tightly bound fingers and tightly bound strength. "F-for me too."
"That's why this first time will be fast and hard." He leaned over me and took my mouth again in a kiss so dirty, I started squirming for relief.
"Yes, please," I begged.
He smiled again. My shorts were whisked off, and he leaned back to stare at me unabashedly.
"Next time," he said in a rough, uneven voice. His hands gripped my hips and pressed me into the bed. "Next time, I'll take my time." He cupped one breast and rolled his thumb. "Here." His hand slid between my legs. "Here." He bit my bottom lip. "Everywhere."
"Noah," I groaned.
He prowled between my legs, and as I registered the feel of each slab of muscle on his chest and stomach pressing against my soft skin, my back arched so I could feel more, more, more.
There was a pause before he delivered on his promise of fast and hard, both adjectives equally as exciting to me, and at that moment, his eyes held mine.
This matters.
It was hard to remember our promise of two nights, of this protected space to exorcise whatever had been brewing between us when we shared a look, a moment, a breath so heavy and poignant. But then he shifted forward, forward, forward in a long, slow slide, and with a long, slow groan from deep within his massive chest, I forgot everything but him.
He didn't stop until he was tight against me, and his arms curled under my shoulders and tucked me firmly against his chest. I had to swallow a loud sob of relief at the way he was wound around me, in me, filling me.
For another moment, he held impossibly still, and it had me shift my hips up in a restless, anxious movement. He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.
"Molly," he groaned. "I can't... I can't..."
I gripped his face and sucked at his lips. "If you stop right now, I'll murder you in your sleep."
Noah rolled his forehead on mine. "Once I move, I can't hold back. I don't want to hurt you."
I brushed my nose against his. "Give me everything," I whispered. "I can take it."
And he did.
With harsh pants of breath against my skin that felt like he was branding me with hot strikes, Noah pulled back and, true to his word, gave me everything he had.
It was all I could do to hold on as he moved with ruthless, unrelenting snaps of his hips, unleashing his strength in the bunching muscles that had me pinned to the bed. I clapped a hand over his mouth when he groaned loudly, and I had to bite down on my own lips when I felt the cresting, rolling wave of pleasure, the bright burst of ecstasy that split me wide open.
Behind my fingers, he shouted roughly and then slowed his movements. I tilted my pelvis up to draw each last pulse of pleasure and finally opened my mouth to kiss him deeply. He tangled his fingers in my hair and let the full weight of his body collapse onto mine. I wrapped my arms around his back and held on with deep, shuddering breaths.
When he tried to roll off me, I tightened my arms, and he chuckled. His skin smelled like masculine soap, and I wanted to get high off it. I practically already was. In this bed, in this room, I could easily pretend that nothing existed but me and Noah.
"You're not allowed to leave yet," I informed him haughtily.
Noah pulled back in surprise. "No?"
I shook my head. "That's part of the South Dakota agreement. If we only get two nights, I get maximum bed sharing."
His eyes traced my face, and the sated smile he wore did funny things to my insides. I'd never seen him look so at peace. So happy. "Just running to the bathroom, greedy girl."
Greedy. Such an appropriate term, I thought as I watched him stroll naked from the bed into the adjoining bathroom. He let out a satisfied groan, which had me burying my dumb smile in the pillow under my head. Yes, greedy was right. The dim light from the bathroom bounced off the angles and curved lines of his muscles as he walked back.
I wanted to hoard him. Clutch him to me and impatiently demand more of his lips and tongue and hands. If I could only collect a handful of these salacious memories of Noah Griffin, I'd need them to be good.
He must have been feeling the same way because for the next co
uple of hours, he was insatiable. More than likely the byproduct of withholding for as long as he had. If the rumors were true, Noah had years of unspent sexual tension that needed be unleashed somewhere, and oh sweet mercy, I was glad it was me who was benefiting. Again. And again. And again.
By the time I lost count of how many times he brought me over the peak, I was so exhausted that my eyes could hardly stay open, and still his hands didn't stop running over the tight tips of my breasts or the curve of my ass ... he really liked it there. The hollow of my belly button. Noah was storing up memories of his own, and it was past two before we fell into a deep sleep, his arms curled around me as I laid tucked against his side.
I woke briefly when he climbed out, and it was still dark outside.
"What time is it?" I mumbled as he kissed my forehead.
"Early. I just need to get downstairs before anyone else wakes up," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."
Like a good girl who'd been screwed into oblivion all night, I did as I was told.
When I woke, it was bright, and the sounds of the small farm echoed through my room. I stretched and couldn't stop the happy wince at all the places I felt evidence of my night with Noah.
Deliciously sore, as I'd read in almost every romance novel that I loved so much.
It was used so much because it was effing accurate.
I showered and left the room with my game face on.
There would be no sex-drugged looks in his direction.
No daydreaming of how tight his hands held my hips during the third—or was it the second?—round.
No staring at him and remembering what he looked like when he pressed my knees up and braced them on his chest.
And we did well.
Feeding the horses with his grandma was as exciting as I thought, and she laughed at me when I bounced on my toes at the thought of brushing them out for her. Occasionally, I felt eyes on me as we worked in the barn, but I never caught Noah looking in my direction.
When Rick suggested they walk around the property, I followed along. And even though I had the thought that my presence was completely superfluous to this entire process, nobody seemed to question it.
Noah didn't need anything from me, especially because his honest reaction to this whole adjustment was the point of the documentary in the first place. Rick and Marty didn't really need me either. They'd done this before and knew that anything negative caught on film would be caught in editing and removed, probably at Beatrice's request.
Why had she thought it necessary for me to be here?
It was strange to come to that realization now, of all places. The place where I'd felt freer than I had in a long time. Where Noah clearly did too. But it was the truth. I watched from behind Marty as they filmed Noah and his grandma fishing in a pond that had been hidden from view behind the barn. I couldn't help but be thankful that I was here, but the truth was that there was no reason for it. My sisters questioned it, but now I wondered if there wasn't another reason.
Rick came up to me and found a seat on the grass. "You're quiet today."
I smiled at him. "Just enjoying the day."
He nodded. His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but he shook his head and stopped.
"What?" I asked him.
"Just ... curious about something," he said carefully, watching Noah and his grandma laugh. We were sitting far enough away that we were out of earshot, and I liked it better that way. Give them privacy where they could take it. "Why do you think he's stayed away for so long?"
My eyebrows popped up at his question. This was the first time Rick had asked my opinion about something of this magnitude. But I supposed it was his job to delve into the hidden layers of his subjects. It was what made him good at his job.
"And you want to know what I think?"
He nodded. "I do. You're intuitive. You've got good instincts when it comes to dealing with someone like him, who was clearly hesitant about this. Now look at him. He barely notices when we're around anymore."
I laughed. "I don't know about that." It wasn't lost on me that I'd ignored his compliment, focusing instead on his observation about Noah. "But thank you," I said carefully. "I like my job. I always have."
"You're good at it." He nudged me with his shoulder. "That's why I'm curious what you see when you look at him."
My face went hot, and I was so incredibly thankful that Rick wasn't looking at me. I thought so, so many inappropriate things when I looked at Noah, none of which Rick needed to know about. I cleared my head of the more lurid ways I could answer that question and focused on the scene in front of us.
"I think," I started slowly, "that it's easier for someone like Noah to stay focused when he keeps blinders on to everything else besides football. Probably to his detriment. Time with his grandma this way, it probably feels like, I don't know, an intrusion on his process, if it comes at the wrong time. So he ignores it. I don't think it means he loves her less, but I think he's so good at compartmentalizing his life that he's separated himself from everything outside of football that matters." I sighed. "And that's sad."
Rick's gaze was heavy on me, but I didn't turn to meet it. I didn't want to know what he'd see in my eyes, in my face, at my answer.
"I think you're spot-on," he said after a minute.
I looked at him when I felt like my face was into a more controlled mask. "Yeah?"
"But it's more than sad," he continued. "It's heartbreaking. When you observe people for a living, like I do, like Marty does, you see where they're headed. Sometimes before they do. And someone like Noah will let his entire life go by unnoticed by the time he retires. He'll finish playing and have nothing left, except for some trophies that mean nothing. Records that hold no weight, except some arbitrary importance that a single, small group of people put on it. Records that can, and will, be broken by someone else someday."
My eyes welled with tears, and I blinked rapidly to push them back.
"And there's nothing I can say that would change that for him," Rick said sadly. "He has to figure that out for himself." He paused and glanced at me again. "I just pray he doesn't ..." He stopped and exhaled heavily. "Shit, I don't know."
"What?"
Rick pierced me with a serious look. "I pray he doesn't hurt someone amazing in the process."
My mouth fell open.
He knew.
"Rick," I whispered.
He held up a hand. "Just the rambles of a man who's seen a lot. Okay? That's all it is."
Even though my heart was thrashing in my chest, I nodded slowly.
His words flipped and turned and tumbled in my head for the rest of the day. I made it a point to stay behind Marty because I was so afraid of what he might catch on my face if that camera turned in my direction.
I was quiet through dinner, another delicious carb and meat heavy affair that was made with obvious love. Noah kept glancing in my direction, but I kept my eyes off him because I was afraid it would be written all over my face.
I could fall in love with you so easily.
And you would break my heart if you couldn't love me back in the way I deserve.
Because Rick was right.
It wasn't my job to fix Noah's priorities. It wasn't my job to show him that he could have it both ways. He could have a life filled with love and family and be the best at his job while he was fortunate enough to do it.
I pretended to read a book while the guys played a card game with Noah's grandma and everyone slowly marched off to bed.
Before Marty went upstairs, I said good night and kept my face even as I clicked the door shut behind me. One single tear slipped out as I washed my face, and I turned the faucet to ice cold to snap myself out of it.
About an hour later, as I stared mindlessly at the screen of my phone where I was huddled under the covers, I heard Noah approach the door. I held my breath, and when he knocked softly, I climbed out from under the blanket and opened it for him.
His e
yes searched my face as he walked in. "Are you okay? You were so quiet today."
If one word escaped my lips about how I was feeling, I'd coat the walls with my messy emotional state. So I nodded, my hands reaching for the hem of his shirt to tug it up over his head. He complied but looked concerned as he tossed it to the ground.
"Molly," he said, sliding his hands around my waist. "It's clear something is wrong. Talk to me."
I took a deep breath. "We have one night, Noah. Do you want to spend it talking? Because I don't."
Indecision warred in the handsome, chiseled features of his face. "I do if there's something important on your mind."
With a self-control I didn't know I possessed, I slid my hands up my chest and pulled his face down to mine. A groan came from his lungs when I tugged on his lip with my teeth. Goose bumps broke out over my skin at the sound of it.
I pushed down everything except the way he felt under my wandering fingertips, every worry, every doubt, every instinct that told me that this one last time would only make it harder for me when we got back to Seattle.
But I wouldn't ignore the opportunity when it was given to me.
Making this choice felt important.
I leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed him, digging my hands into his lush, silky hair and tugging. He changed the angle of the kiss, and I felt the moment when his brain switched off and his desire took over.
For the rest of the night, that impulse reigned over us, and we allowed it with every touch and kiss and whispered plea into each other's skin.
When he wanted to see all of me, I straddled his hips and rose above him, hands braced on his chest, for a slow, sweet round that left my body gleaming with sweat from delayed satisfaction.
When I wanted him to unleash every ounce of his strength, he turned me over onto my stomach where the pillows muffled my sobs of gratification when it finally broke wide open.
And when we knew he should've been leaving the room, we allowed ourselves one last time. Not a single word passed between us, but he touched me everywhere, tasted me everywhere, and I did the same. He moved so slowly and with so much purpose, letting the desire grow and grow and grow until I swallowed a scream when we finished at the same time. A tear rolled down my temple as I lay under him, trying desperately to catch my breath, and he caught it with his lips.
Focused Page 15