My pulse pounds as it’s popped open, the soft hum of my zipper creating goosebumps along my legs. He waits, eyes on me, so I lift my hips in request, and he answers, cautiously freeing me of them altogether.
His arms fall to his sides, his body going still as he peers at me, his expression a pensive mix of uncertainty and conviction.
I push up into a sitting position, scooting closer to the edge once more, and grab a handful of his soiled sweatshirt. My legs part, and he steps in until his thighs meet the cool metal. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move, other than the way my freeing him of his clothes requires.
My lungs swell as his body comes into view, his chest on full display for me for the very first time. Even on the beach, he wore a shirt that hid it.
“You should take your shirt off more often.” My breath is a throaty, desire-filled mess, and I’m pleased when his chuckle sounds just the same.
My eyes fly straight for the tattoo I’ve admittedly fantasized about.
I wondered how it would curve, what it would hold and how far it reached, but seeing it along his skin is like nothing I could have cooked up.
It’s fascinating, dark and defined.
It spans from his upper arm and stretches along his left peck. There’s a goal line, and a football that looks as if it’s tearing through from inside his skin, but it’s the script curved along the threading of the ball that calls to me. It’s foreign, Latin maybe, and beautifully scrolled.
“What does this mean?” I wonder, hesitantly lowering the pads of my fingers to his skin, tracing over the words in slow motion.
“Can’t tell you.” He shivers, and my lips twitch, my palms flattening over him as I lean closer.
“Can’t or won’t?” I peek up at him as I press my lips to his chest, scooting more to the edge so I can skate them higher.
I glide along his collarbone, to his neck, pausing when I reach his ear. I take a deep breath and Noah’s forehead falls to my shoulder, his hands finding the space at my sides.
I don’t say anything, just breathe against him as my touch dares to go lower. I trace the ridges of his abs, getting acquainted with every cut of his masterfully constructed muscles.
He’s hard in all the right places, and I’d bet if I went lower, I’d find him hard there too.
I can sense it in the way his abdomen clenches, in the short puffs breaking along my bare chest.
My nipples harden in my bra and now I’m the one shivering.
That gains Noah’s attention, and his head lifts, the heat in his eyes almost unbearable. “It’s getting colder.”
“I don’t feel cold.”
His nostrils flare, and he dips down, gripping my hair in his hands and twisting it over his fist, water dripping down his forearm and splattering onto my spine. I jolt forward, and Noah twists to catch my lips with his own. He kisses me hard this time. It’s almost in punishment, and completely fucking addicting.
“It’ll be my fault if you get sick.” He speaks between swipes of his tongue. “I can’t have that.” He reaches for the hoodie beside us, the one he brought out for me, but I dart my hand over his to pause his movements and snag the one he intends to wear first.
He gives a small warning glare, but when my husky chuckle follows, his need to know what comes next has him relenting. With a tight frown, he allows me to pull his over him.
He quickly shoves his arms inside, swiping mine up and preparing to do the same, but I drop my palms onto the tailgate once more, and begin scooting backward. I don’t stop until my fingers scratch against the nylon of his tent.
His brows dip low as I blindly find the zipper, my hand gliding along until it’s over my head, the opening falling against my back.
Noah’s jaw ticks as he kicks out of his wet bottoms, quickly stepping into his dry pair. He fists the clothes he has for me and then he’s crawling over me, with me, as I guide us into his tent completely.
Still slightly uncertain, he’s slow to close us inside, and I want to erase his hesitation that I know only stems from his concern for me, because I somehow feel none.
I’m not embarrassed, unsure or anxious.
I don’t have that twist in my gut that’s warning me away as if afraid he’ll push me away.
He would never.
Looking at him, into his blue eyes, my mind isn’t muddled.
It’s calling his name.
There’s something about Noah that frees me. With a single look or unspoken notion, he settles parts of me I don’t know need settling, and while I don’t fully understand it yet, I know I want to.
And right now, I want to get to know him a little better. A little… differently.
I fall back onto his pillow, and he follows. While his body hovers over mine, no part of our skin is touching, but the heat of him is present, and a ripple of anticipation works its way through me.
“What are you doing, Juliet?” he murmurs, his eyes falling to my breasts, half spilling over, free from my wet bra.
Tension knots inside me, creating an ache in my chest, and instead of answering with words, I slip a hand behind my back, and unclasp it, but I don’t take it off. I pull my hand out, letting him decide what to do next.
Noah shifts his weight to one side, his knuckles coming up to glide along my shoulder, as his finger hooks under my strap.
“You want me to touch you?” He slides lower.
A small moan works its way up my throat, and Noah pulls the garment from my body, my hands coming back down to grip the sleeping bag beneath me.
My breasts are bared to him, and he takes his time raking his gaze over every inch of me, his attention serving as a heated caress, as do the slow, deliberate exhales fanning along my skin.
His mouth meets my breastbone then and I pull in a harsh breath.
“Tell me where.” His command is gentle, and my nipples turn to sharp points.
My body heats, skin flushing, and Noah peeks at me through his full, dark lashes.
My lips part and his pull to one side.
“There it is,” he rasps. “That’s what I was waiting for. The blush.” His touch creates a fiery path up my stomach and doesn’t stop there. It trails higher, until his hand is gently stretched along my throat. I swallow against him and his fingers twitch in response.
His eyes snap to mine, and he repeats himself. “Tell me where.”
I play our game. “You already know the answer to that.”
“But…” He bites at my stomach, and I squirm.
But he wants me to say it.
Empowered by his mischievous way, I do him one better.
I guide his hand down my torso, in an unhurried fashion, and I don’t stop the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the hem of my underwear.
That’s where I leave him, because while I might not know Noah in this way… I know Noah.
His eyes snap to mine, narrowing, and I can’t suppress the giggle working its way up my throat.
“There.”
His features flash with praise and with that one look, the spark in my core grows to a full-fledged flame. He knows it and fuels the fire, his mouth coming down on my right nipple, clamping over me in retaliation. His lips begin to vibrate, and I squirm.
My legs come up, rubbing together in an attempt to ease the ache, and the move has his hand slipping farther south. That does it.
Noah drives his touch lower, his fingers coming together so he doesn’t miss a single sliver of skin on his way down. He cups me first, applying a teasing amount of pressure with his palm.
My eyes close, his tongue now swirling around my hard peaks as he pushes up onto his knees. He drags his wet lips across my skin, giving equal attention to my left nipple.
His hand skates lower, his chest rumbling as the tip of his pointer finger meets my slit.
“Fuck,” he croaks. “Open.”
My legs fall instantly.
His touch is hot and strong. I need—
His mouth crashes mine, cutting o
ff my thoughts, yet answering it as he rasps, “I’m about to feel you. I’m gonna find out how warm you are, how soft…”
No sooner than he says it, he’s there, pushing into me with slow precision.
My moan is instant.
“So fucking soft.” He bites my lip. “So wet.” My jaw.
When his hand retracts, my eyes fly open, my core straining from the loss, but then his finger disappears between his lips.
His eyes flare, and I nearly choke on air. “So fucking sweet.”
I need to come.
His mouth moves back to mine, and he whispers, “You’re about to.”
His fingers drive back inside, dipping in and out as his thumb presses at my clit, his lips playing like a rake against my body. He’s on my chest, my ribs.
He’s everywhere.
I need more.
I whimper, lifting my hips, willing him deeper, and my god, does Noah give me what I want.
He pushes in until the pressure of his hand is hard against my entrance.
“Kiss me,” I murmur, my eyes pinching shut. I moan again, blindly seeking out the warmth of his skin. My hands glide up his pecs, and I start to shake. “Now, Noah.”
He groans, giving me what I want, working my clit over and over, squeezing, pressing, and then holding as my body writhes beneath him, swallowing the sounds coming up from my throat. Sounds I’ve never heard myself make.
Sounds that drive him mad, creating fireworks between my legs.
Noah’s hand leaves me, but his kiss doesn’t.
It deepens, hardens until I cry into his mouth, and then it slows, as if in tune with my orgasm, as if he knew the high my body would reach, and the slow, sated come down it would bring me to.
That he would bring me to.
Noah lies down beside me, but I don’t open my eyes, not yet, and it’s only moments later that he begins playing with the wet strands of my hair.
The need to see him becomes too strong, and as if he senses the second I look at him, his eyes slowly lift to mine.
I blush like crazy and the man smirks, a low chuckle slipping from his swollen lips.
He sits up then, grabbing the long-forgotten clothes he brought me, and he tugs me into a sitting position, pulling the hoodie over my head. His fingers skim along my neck until he’s gathered all of my hair, and he frees it from the thick cotton.
“Should I help with these too?” he jokes, and I snag the bottoms he holds out for me.
“I mean, I don’t know. I still can’t feel my legs so…” I play along, not missing the grin he points at his feet as he slips on dry socks.
Noah climbs out of the tent to put his shoes on, and when I work my way out, zipping up the tent door, he’s coming back from the cab of his truck.
“Here.” He hands me a pair of long socks, and I pull them on over the ‘compression pants,’ which is nothing more than a fancy word for man leggings.
I slip my shoes on next and turn to face him.
His eyes flick over my body, cloaked in his clothes, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He yanks me to him, presses his lips to mine, but then tears them away before my hands have a chance to wrap around him.
“Come on, if I don’t get people around you—”
“If this ends with we’ll end up back in the tent … it’s crap for motivating me to move.”
Noah drops his head back, cursing into the air, and I laugh, squealing when he grabs my hand, tugging me toward camp.
When we reach the clearing, he grins at me, squeezing my hand before letting it go.
He cuts left for the ice chests and I head right for the fire, snagging a chair along the way. Cam sits at the edge of the group, circling the bonfire, so I take the empty space beside her.
She’s listening to whatever the boys around are saying, but when she glances my way, she does a double take and spins her entire body to face me. Her head cocks to one side, a single blonde brow lifting as she readies to speak, but her words freeze on her lips when a beer is lowered in front of me.
I drop my head back, looking up at Noah. “Why thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I forget to look away, and his water bottle comes up to hide the grin sneaking over his lips. He begins to walk off, and my gaze travels with him.
Cameron claws at my thighs, so I turn to her. Only then does she realize I’m swallowed by clothes that aren’t mine and my hair is a wet, soppy mess. “Bitch.” She grips the back of her chair, leaning closer. “Did you hump the humble hottie?” she hisses.
I smile, folding my legs up beneath me, and shake my head.
Her eyes narrow. “He played puppet with your puss, didn’t he?”
My head falls back, and I laugh into the air.
Her gasp has my head snapping in her direction again, and I nearly fall over when she yanks at the collar of my hoodie.
“You got a hickey from Kenickie,” she jokes, quoting Grease.
My hand flies to my neck, my fingertips pressing over the spot it must be, the memory of his lips replaying in my mind.
Peeking at Cam, I bring my beer to my lips, and my girl lifts her hands in a praising motion, holding hers out.
“Way to go, sister.”
A calming sense of happiness washes over me and I turn to my friend.
“Tell me all about the kids from your child development class.”
Cam beams, shifts as I had, and starts talking. We stay in our chairs for well over an hour, laughing and joking about everything and nothing.
A little while after that, Mason drops a chair beside us, joining in on our conversation, and of course, Brady and Chase follow as soon as they spot the three of us together.
We share some of the stories our parents have told us about their group trip overseas, since we’ve all gotten different ones, and make plans to spend Thanksgiving at the beach house with our cousin and friends.
Mason busts out the marshmallows, so Brady and I sharpen some sticks into clean points for roasting.
After eating my first one, I put on another, finding my favorite shade of blue across the bonfire.
Noah stares, his friends all around him, mine all around me.
Never taking my eyes off his, I let the treat hit the flame before bringing it to my mouth, but I don’t blow.
I let the blaze grow bolder, brighter.
I let the heat take over until it’s nothing but a ball of fire.
And in one quick breath, blow it out.
He’s too far for me to hear his chuckle, but I know it’s there.
He winks, and this time, I feel it in my soul.
Chapter 26
Arianna
* * *
I was hoping for an invite to sleep in Noah’s tent last night, but not an hour after our marshmallow fun, Cameron was down for the count, which put me on best friend duty.
I did, however, set my alarm for when he mentioned he was getting up, so I could help him pack and say bye before he took off. Knowing the boys, we’ll be here as long as possible, cutting it to the very last minute before we have to head back to campus. They’re every bit outdoor, hands-on, adventure men.
By six a.m., on the dot, Noah’s pulling out of the campsite, headed home for his visit with his mom.
As quietly as I can manage, I snag the last of the logs near Brady’s truck and carefully arrange them into a tall point around the mess of ashes. There’s enough kindling still burning below that I don’t have to use the brush to get it going today—clearly some campers had a way later night than I did for this baby to still have some life—so I stay crouched, watching to make sure it burns evenly or the fire will weaken sooner than we want.
“You need another log?”
I glance over my shoulder to find Chase stepping up, his hands buried in his hoodie pockets, beanie hanging half off his head, as if he forgot to tug it down when he crawled out of bed.
“These are the last of them.”
He nods, coming forward. “Y
ou’re up early. Cam okay?”
I chuckle, pushing to my feet. “Drooling all over my pillow when I last checked. Her ride home won’t be fun.”
He grins, following my steps.
“Want to help?” I gesture to last night’s beer pong mess, pulling two garbage bags from the plastic bin under the food table.
Wordlessly, he grabs the bag, and we start on opposite sides, picking up the empty cans on the ground first, moving to the tabletop second.
“I miss partying like this.” Chase looks across the trees. “Well, I guess this is only our third parent-free camping trip, but still. I could go for more of these.”
“Good thing we’ve got all that practice from sneaking onto the back of Brady’s grandparents’ property, or we’d be coming out here with nothing but tents and an ice chest.”
He grins. “Yeah, we discovered the hard way you have to bring wood camping, didn’t we? That was a failure of a trip.”
“We had to leave in the middle of the night, and we slept in the truck outside my house because Mason didn’t want to see the grin on my dad’s face when he got to say ‘I told you so’ when they said we weren’t ready to go on our own.”
Chase laughs, nodding his head.
I gasp, looking to him. “Do you remember summer of sophomore year, when your parents let us have that pool party at your place?”
“Our first adult-free swim session.”
“That took two weeks to get them to agree to, and in the end, only hit us with one condition… ” I raise a brow at him.
Chase drops his attention to the table. “No fighting.”
“Yes, no fighting, and what do you know, they come home to find their very own son, with a black eye because you just had to go and hit on Jake Henry’s girlfriend.”
I laugh, thinking about it, but when I look over, I find Chase frowning at the stream of beer he’s pouring into the dirt, so I close my mouth and continue cleaning.
After a moment, he sighs. “You bought a new swimsuit for that party. Pink with white stripes.”
My head snaps in his direction.
I did?
“I put you on my shoulders for a chicken fight against Cam and Brady, and we won,” he continues, licking his lips as his eyes rise to mine. “I dropped us back into the water to let you down, and I did… but then I spun around and reached for you.” He holds my gaze. “I pulled you to me, and without a word, you wrapped your legs around my waist. You smiled, and then let go. I didn’t realize until someone splashed that I didn’t. I was still holding onto you.”
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