Chapter 8
Eight
NOELLE
B ear is quieter than usual, pensive. We make the short drive from the salon to my house in silence, the only sound is Panzer's soft breathing in the back seat. To be fair, though, I'm kind of lost in thought myself.
He is attracted to me. He just doesn't feel like he deserves to be. He doesn’t think he's allowed to. He expects me to reject him or mock him—I’m not sure which. Both, maybe.
More than once, he's called me "clean,” and I'm starting to understand that doesn't mean physically free from dirt. He means spiritually, existentially. He feels unclean as a person. Stained by his past. By his record.
But good grief, when he does touch me? I feel combustible. My skin still tingles where he touched me. My lips burn, longing to feel his on them. We were so close—had Dad not called when he did, we would have kissed.
I want more.
I want to kiss him. Touch him. Be touched. Held.
Sleeping with him—literally only sleeping—was incredible. So peaceful. Safe. Warm. Connected.
The thought of going home tonight and sleeping alone in a cold bed sounds horrible, now.
Lonely.
I want him. I desire him. And I want him to want me, to desire me. To show me how he feels about me. It'll take some time, though. He needs to be shown that he's not defined by his past. That I see him for who he is now. I’m not afraid of who he was or the things he did. I understand full well that he’s only given me the outlines of what his life was like before going to prison: violent and full of struggle.
That's not who he is anymore. He just needs a little encouragement is all.
And I plan to give him that. Show him who he is to me. Who he can be. Hopefully, I can show him that it's okay to want things. To hope. To believe in himself. To allow himself to have…
Well…
Me.
One step at a time.
I pull into my driveway. "C'mon, boys."
Panzer and Bear follow me up the driveway to the side door. I unlock it, and Bear holds the storm door open so I can go in. Panzer follows, and then Bear. My kitchen is small but cute. The cabinets are white, and some enterprising prior tenants with artistic talent hand-painted little flowers, bumblebees, and dragonflies on them in random patterns. The counters are blonde butcherblock, the floors are vintage hardwood stained a few shades darker than the cabinets, and the appliances are newer stainless steel. The first thing I do is get a big mixing bowl, fill it with water, and put it on the floor for Panzer, who slurps away noisily, making a godawful mess—easily cleaned.
Bear follows me into the open-plan dining room and living room. The walls here are a soft, muted moss color, the floors the same hardwood as the kitchen carried through the whole home. My couch is one of the few things I ever splurged on, a soft gray Lovesac sectional framing an antique cherrywood coffee table, with a print of Monet's Water Lilies where a TV would be in other homes.
"You have a beautiful home," Bear says.
"Thank you. I love it." I lift on my toes and kiss his cheek. "Have a seat and relax. I'm gonna rinse off and change. I won't be long."
"'Kay." He settles himself carefully on the couch, his huge frame tense and stiff.
I can't help but laugh, perching on his thighs. "Hey. Relax .” I reach up and try to massage his massive shoulders, but it's like kneading granite. "Geez. Talk about boulder shoulders."
He lets out a breath. "I'm just…mixed up, I guess. In my head."
"About what?" I ask.
He just shrugs, looks away.
I grab his beard braid and tug gently. "Hey. Talk to me."
Another vague shoulder roll. "Nothing."
"Bear." It comes out a little firm and scoldy. I soften my tone. "Whatever it is, I want to know."
"Just this whole thing. You and me."
“Yeah?"
He swallows hard. "I'm not sure what it is. Don't know what I’m doing. What to do. What not to do."
"You're doing fine, Mister Bear," I say, emphasizing the mister to make it a teasing joke.
He blesses me with an actual, very rare smile, and a soft huff of laughter. “Not that again."
"That again. You’re my Mister Bear."
" Your Mister Bear?"
"Well, hopefully not someone else's," I say, pretending to scowl. "Is there something I should know? Someone else in the picture?"
"No," he says quickly. "No. Just you. Only you."
I break into laughter, wrapping my arms around his thick neck and cliff-like shoulders. "I'm teasing. Just teasing." I pull away just a little. “Yes, to answer your question. My Mister Bear. My big handsome Viking warrior."
He furrows his brow thoughtfully, sighing. "Never been anyone's before."
I can only smile at that. I kiss his cheek again, wanting more than anything for him to take my face in his big hard hands and kiss me breathless.
His eyes search my face. Land on my lips. His thumb brushes ever-so-gently over my mouth. "Pretty little mouth. Soft."
I touch his lips the way he did mine. "Yours too."
He leans closer.
God, please—p lease kiss me.
"Noelle, I…" he trails off, swallowing.
"What, Bear? Say it. Ask me anything."
"Wonder what your lips…feel like. Taste like."
"So find out," I breathe. "Please?"
A growl rattles his chest. "No shit? You…you'd let me?"
A hungry smile curves my lips. "Try it and see."
Sitting sideways on his lap, I cling to his shoulders and fight for breath as he moves in, millimeter by millimeter. His hands frame my face, so exquisitely gentle he's barely touching me, as if afraid that one wrong move will shatter me like porcelain. The rough pads of his thumbs brush under my eyes. And then his lips touch mine, and my breath whooshes out of my lungs.
He's kissing me.
So softly, so slowly. So delicately. Tender. A questing question of a kiss: M ay I ?
No tongue, only lips. So gentle. The immense power in his hands is reduced to a tremble upon my cheeks.
Gosh, this man.
I lean in, snaking my arms tighter around his neck. Tilt my head and deepen the kiss. A low rumble shakes his chest—shakes me.
I press him back into the couch and clutch his nape in both hands. Part my lips for him—his tongue darts against my lower lip and retreats. His thumbs caress my cheeks. Fingertips trace my ears. He radiates heat. Pulses with power. With coiled strength, with tightly leashed desire.
I feel it in every line of him. In the taut tension of his colossal muscles wrapped around me.
God help me—I need more.
It's been so long. So long since I felt wanted. Since I felt pretty.
Since I felt…sexy.
He gives that to me without even trying.
Makes me feel more like a woman than I ever have—powerful, sensual, desirable. Safe. Protected. Respected. Wanted.
All at once—all of a sudden. Just by being who he is.
I slip my tongue against his, and his whole being tenses, and he rumbles in his chest softly. Pulls away. "Holy shit, Noelle,” he breathes.
"I know," I whisper. “Me too."
"Thank you." His hands stay on my face, caressing. Cupping.
I give him a questioning look. "Thank you? For what?"
“The kiss."
I almost laugh but worry he’d take it wrong. “Don’t thank me," I whisper. "Just…don't stop."
"Your lips taste like candy."
"Bubblegum lip gloss." I pull back, licking my lips. "Like it?"
"More'n I can say."
I snag my purse where I dropped it on the ottoman, pluck my lip gloss from the inside pocket, and reapply it, rolling my lips to spread it evenly. "There." I move to straddle him. "Kiss me again?"
He doesn't, though—not right away. Instead, he just looks at me. "You're a wonder. A miracle."
“Bear…"
"An angel."
"I'm not."
"You are to me." His green-gray eyes are wild and deep, hinting, as Gloria said, at the waters that run deep beneath his stillness. "Could kiss you forever. Never stop."
"I'd like that," I say.
“You would?"
"Mmm-hmmm. A lot."
He licks his lips and then drifts closer once more, and I close my eyes and wait. Feel his soft, strong lips cover mine. His breath is warm and sweet, and his tongue finds mine. I grab his beard and pull him closer, cupping the back of his head with my other hand. He growls like a hungry, feral beast, and my core spasms, my sex rushing with liquid heat.
I lean into him, crush my chest against his, and push him deeper into the couch. Straddling him, I feel his manhood straining beneath me, a huge hard ridge. His hands carve around my waist and spread to cover my back, just below my bra strap. We pause for a second, both of us gasping. His hands slip lower. Lower. Hesitate, and then retreat upward.
"It's okay," I whisper against his lips. "Go ahead. I want you to."
I hold his eyes, letting him see my desire. Hoping he sees the permission there.
The need.
His fingers dig into the muscles at the small of my back, gathering the bunched-up skirt of my dress, baring more and more of my thighs until my bottom is exposed—my black underwear. I decide to encourage him by doing some exploration of my own. Find the hem of his shirt and slip my hands under it, touching his hard belly. Flatten my palms against his rock-hard abs and his immense, bulging pecs.
He growls again, and his lips slant across mine, and I sigh, whimpering with desire, pleasure, and desperation as he kisses my breath away. His arousal digs into my butt and I tilt my hips to get friction where I need it—suddenly consumed with need.
His hands slip down to my bare thighs, and I gasp at the fire of his touch to my skin. His powerful grip skids softly upward toward my hips. I open my mouth fully and accept his tongue, giving him mine. They dance and tangle, twist and taste. Every breath he takes is a rumble, a growl, a hot, hungry snarl.
Finally, at last, he finds the courage to cradle my bottom in his hands. And I whimper into his mouth at the touch, flicking his hard little nipples with my thumbs.
I pull away with a long low moan. "Bear. My god."
"Hmmm?" he queries, sounding shaken.
"The way you kiss me."
"Was it okay?"
I laugh, letting my smile curve against his lips, and kiss him as I laugh. “So much more than just okay.” I rub lip gloss off his lips with my thumbs. “I could stay here and kiss you forever." To start with. "But we have things to do."
"Dumb."
I dissolve into laughter, clutching his face and kissing him through my laughter. "I agree. I'd much rather kiss you, but I need to shower and change, and we need to get to the store."
"You really want me to come with you?" he asks.
I sit back on his lap. "I do. I know you're nervous. But it's going to be okay. I'll be with you every step of the way, okay?"
“Not nervous." He lets out a breath. "Fuckin' terrified."
"Oh god, Bear, honey. There's nothing to be afraid of. It’s just my family."
"Barely know you. But…I feel like I do. I dunno."
"I know what you mean. But I promise, it's going to be okay. So just… relax. Breathe. And try to trust me, okay?"
He nods. "You, I trust."
Reluctantly, I slide off of him and to my feet. "Won't be long, promise."
He makes an expression that is the facial version of a shrug. "No rush on my end."
Now that I've tasted him and felt his mouth on mine, I'll never get enough; I bend at the waist and touch my lips to his. "Just one more."
Mistake. Big mistake.
I find myself falling into the kiss all over again, and his hands frame my waist. Slip upward, now. The thin cotton of my dress does nothing to dull the sharp heat of his touch. Higher. Pauses at the lower edge of my bra.
But then, instead of going where I know he wants to, he sinks backward with a growl, yanking his hand away from my body. "Shower. 'Fore I lose my goddamn mind."
I straighten, rubbing both hands over my flushed, flustered face. "Right. Yes. Shower." I let a harsh breath out past clenched teeth. "I don't want to stop, Bear."
His gaze searches my face. "No?"
I shake my head. "Not at all. Not even a little bit."
"Glad I'm not the only one."
Before I start something we really don't have the time to finish, I force myself away from him, heading down the hall for my bedroom. I bite my tongue to keep from inviting him into the shower with me. I do feel his eyes on my backside, and I shamelessly let my hips sway a little extra, just for him.
Right before I go into my room, I steal a peek back at him—just in time to catch him adjusting himself, lifting his hips and tugging at his fly with a pained wince.
I affect him.
A lot.
I like that. I like knowing I make him feel that way. That he desires me.
I shut my bedroom door and peel my dress off, and then my underwear and bra, tossing them all in the hamper. I twist my hair up onto my head and put a shower cap on while the water heats. Step in, wash up, rinse off—ignoring the damp heat between my thighs, the ache. The pulse of need. Ignore the urge to take the edge off with my fingers—I haven’t been with anyone in a very, very long time, but my fingers have been rather busy. A girl has needs, after all.
I wonder if he does that. I wonder if he's thought of me while doing that. I find myself hoping he does. Wanting him to.
I blush furiously as I shut the water off and dry myself, trying desperately to erase the image of Bear in the shower, water sluicing down his huge, heavily muscled body, his big fist stroking down his—
No.
Nope.
Can't go there.
I'm barely hanging on as it is—I've pushed him as far as he can go for now, I think. I have to keep myself in check.
Funny—Brennan always made me feel self-conscious about my sexuality. I can't pinpoint how, it was always just this vague sense that I wanted something he didn't. What, I don't know.
Our physical relationship started very slowly and stayed slow. It didn’t progress past an innocent kiss here and there for years . When we did finally actually sleep together on our wedding night, he finished within a minute or two, and I was left frustrated—and felt guilty for feeling frustrated.
There—that's it. That's the source of my negative feelings about my sexual relationship with Brennan: he didn't satisfy me.
I didn't want him.
I wasn’t turned on by him.
Not ever.
I wasn't even attracted to him.
It's only now that I know what true desire, true attraction feels like—with Bear—that I can finally understand it. Brennan just didn’t do it for me. I wasn’t excited by him. I was eager to explore my body, to explore sexuality, and I would have pushed the boundaries with him had he given me even a hint that he wanted to. But he didn’t. He was the one who always pulled us back when we started to get carried away.
So…when did he start sleeping with other women? Did he think I didn't want him? Was it me? Or was the whole thing with me fake?
Now I kind of want answers.
I push those thoughts away and remove the shower cap, pull my hair out of the braid it’s been in since yesterday morning, spray leave-in conditioner into it, work it through my hair, and brush it till the kinks become waves. Deodorant. A touch of makeup. Lotion on my arms and legs.
Now…what to wear?
I pull on a thong—I own several, purchased after the breakup, but I've never had the courage to wear them. I do so now, and I feel…sexy.
Daring.
Courageous.
Ready.
For what? I don’t know. Just…more. Of Bear.
Lies—I do know. I want him. All of him.
I want him to strip me naked and—
Gosh, stop. Stop!
I can’t go there. I have to get a grip.
I put on the bra that matches the thong—red and lacy, a pushup number that makes my boobs, already pretty darn big, look even bigger. I opt for a denim skirt, the shortest skirt I own. It comes to an inch or two below my butt—my parents will most definitely say something about it. My sisters, too, probably. But who cares? I'm wearing it for Bear.
I want his approval, now—not theirs.
It has a white fringe lining the hem, tickling my bare thighs. I pair it with a white button-down—at first, I leave two buttons open, but then, in a fit of boldness that’s utterly unlike me, I undo a third. Prop the girls up, shove them this way and that until they sit just right. A hint of red lace peeks out; I can already feel Bear's gaze sticking there, lingering like a caress.
I decide on a pair of low brown booties with a chunky heel—they make my legs look even longer, and do good things for my bottom.
I check myself out in the mirror one more time, nodding in approval. Not too bad.
A spritz of perfume, and I'm good to go.
I emerge from my room, suddenly nervous to see Bear's reaction. Which is silly—I’m not even dressing up.
I just want him to think I'm beautiful. I want to be beautiful for him. I’ve always cared about my appearance and always put in effort to look my best, but Bear's attention puts things into high gear.
He looks up as I clomp down the hallway. His brow furrows and his jaw flexes. "Jesus." He stands up, hands tightening into fists at his sides. "Noelle…holy shit."
Butterflies rampage in my belly. "Do I look okay?" Fishing for compliments is not my style, but here I am, fishing.
"You look…" he goes around the couch and stops a foot away from me, reaching for me but pulling his hand back at the last second. "Incredible."
“Really?"
"Not good with words. Wish I could find a better one than that." His eyes rake down my body lingering at my chest, as expected—as planned. "Won't be able to take my eyes off you."
I step into him. "Good. That's the whole idea."
"So fucking beautiful, Noelle. You take my breath away."
“That's okay," I whisper, touching my lips to his. "You can have mine."
He kisses me softly, slowly. "Should I change?"
I pull back and assess: nice jeans, his usual work boots, and a black T-shirt, all clean, if a little wrinkled from sleeping in them last night. “No, you're fine. You look great."
"Changed before going to the shelter—I get dirty at work."
"I imagine you do." I take his hand. "Well. Shall we? Target awaits.”
I make quick work of getting the stuff Dad requested: a package of strip steaks, pre-formed burger patties, a couple of bags of potato chips, and a case of Diet Coke. Bear paces beside me, his gait smooth and light despite his immensity.
I bring him to the toiletries aisle and pick out shampoo, conditioner, beard wash, beard oil, a hairbrush, hair ties, and a beard brush, and then we head for the checkout.
"One sec," he says, as I pull the cart to a halt behind a mom and her two little kids. "Wanna grab something."
"Okay," I say, curious.
A few minutes later, he comes back with a giant bouquet of flowers and a bottle of whiskey.
I give him a look. "You don't need to bring anything, you know."
He shrugs. "Yeah, figure I do." he holds up the bottle. "Wasn’t sure if your dad drinks. Figure a lotta church people don't."
I smile, nodding. “He does, on occasion. He'll appreciate that. But you really don't have to."
"It's your parents. Your family. It's important."
This whole thing has gone zero to a hundred in no time, hasn't it? He's meeting my family .
Suddenly, I’m nervous. Am I going too fast? Am I pushing things too quickly? Jumping in head first? Especially physically. I’m all in on the physical attraction aspect, and I definitely don’t see the value in progressing our physical relationship as slowly as Brennan and I did. But…should we just jump into bed together within days of meeting each other?
Doubts, questions, and concerns storm through my brain.
"Noelle?" Bear's voice is a rumble in my ear, and his hand presses gently into the small of my back. "Our turn."
"Oh.” I startle, realizing the cashier is looking at me with impatient expectation. "Sorry. Spaced out for a minute."
The cashier rings up the items as I put them on the belt. At the last second, Bear adds his flowers and bottle and hands the cashier a card, all before I can so much as get my wallet out of my purse.
"Bear!" I protest.
He gives me a look as he pockets the card again. "Got it. All good."
"Well at least let me pay you back for the food,” I say, following him now as he pushes the cart toward the exit.
"Nope."
"Bear, that was like a hundred dollars worth of food. You didn’t need to do that." I grab a bag, put it in the back of my car, and then turn to grab another one.
Before I can, however, his hand closes around my wrist, and he gently but inexorably guides me to the driver's side door, pulls it open, and guides me into the seat. I open my mouth to protest that it's just a couple of bags, but the look he gives me has me snapping my mouth shut.
"I got it, Noelle."
It feels important to him, for some reason, so I nod and relax into the seat. He shuts the door, and I start the engine and buckle up while he finishes loading. A big, hot, wet pink tongue flaps against my ear, eliciting a surprised shriek from me.
I twist in the seat to say hi to Panzer, only to get another lick right up the center of my face. "Hi, buddy," I say, scrubbing his ears in my hands. "Who's a big sweetheart?"
I wipe at my face while the big dog tries to nuzzle under my hands to give me more slobbery kisses, and soon it's become a game, Panzer nosing under my hands while I laugh hysterically and try to dodge his long, darting tongue.
When Bear lowers himself into the passenger seat, he watches us with another rare, beaming smile. "He likes you."
I wrap an arm around Panzer's thick, iron-hard neck and kiss him on the forehead between the ears. "The feeling is mutual. He's a sweetheart."
I check my mirrors and blindspots and then back out and make for the parking lot exit, wait for traffic to clear, and then make a left onto Division, heading for my parent's neighborhood, which is off of Brookline midway between Main and Division.
Bear eyes me, clears his throat. "What were you thinking about, back there? Looked sorta freaked out."
"It was nothing," I say, but the lie sits like acid on my tongue.
Bear sighs. "Rather have an uncomfortable truth than a pleasant lie, Noelle."
I hesitate and then take his hand. "You're right, I'm sorry. I just…"
He looks down at our joined hands. "You can just drop us off at home. I get it if you're rethinking me coming over."
"No!" I say, squeezing his hand. "No, that's not it. Well, not really. Sort of."
He snorts. “That clears it up."
"Sorry, I just don't know where to start."
A heavy shrug. "Rip off the Band-Aid."
"I guess I'm wondering if… if I'm jumping into things with you a little too fast. Like maybe we need to spend some time just getting to know each other." I thread my fingers between his, hoping it will reassure him somewhat.
"Jumping into what things?" he asks, looking and sounding genuinely puzzled.
Before I can answer, my phone rings—Dad again. I answer it, holding up an index finger at Baer. "Hey Dad, just left Target with the stuff. What's up?"
"Oh, just checking on you. Thought you'd be here by now. Nat will be here in an hour, Nik in less than that, and the boys are already here."
I laugh. "I'm on the way, I promise. Um, by the way, I just wanted to let you know that I'm bringing a friend with me. I hope that's okay."
A short silence greets this pronouncement. "A friend?"
"Yeah."
"Sure, no problem. The more the merrier!"
"Okay, cool. See ya in a minute."
"Yepper!"
I laugh to myself as I hang up. My dad is such a midwestern dad stereotype. Yepper!
I toss the phone back into my purse in the footwell by Bear's feet. "Anyway. Where were we?"
"You were wondering if we were jumping into things too fast, and I asked what things.”
“Right, right." I lick my lips, unsure how to proceed with this. "Look. I'm…I'm very attracted to you. Physically, I mean. And, you know, otherwise, as well. Who you are, all that."
He blinks at me in that slow, thoughtful, owlish way of his. "Okay. But?"
"I've only ever had a physical relationship with one person—Brennan, my ex-husband. And that was a long, long relationship. And physically, it progressed very, very, very slowly. Much too slowly, if I'm being honest."
"Because of your religious beliefs."
I nod and then shrug, tipping my head to one side. “Well, my parents’ beliefs—the beliefs they raised me with. I’m not so sure I agree with all of them anymore, is the thing. See, they believe that sex is sacred. Designed by God to exist exclusively within the confines of marriage. There should be no physical relationship before marriage. None. Zero. And even within marriage, there’s this…I dunno…a sort of unspoken idea that sex is meant for procreation—making kids. Not merely for enjoyment or pleasure. So, with Brennan and me, I was frustrated for a lot of our relationship. Or, honestly, all of it."
"Frustrated? Sexually, you mean?"
I nod. "Yeah. Well, not just sexually. In every way." I glance at him. 'Sorry, I guess this is probably weird and uncomfortable for you to talk about, huh? Me and my ex?"
He shakes his head. "It's part of you. It's important. I wanna understand."
"Okay, so…" I rub at my face with one hand, hunting for a way to explain what I’m feeling when I’m not entirely sure what I’m feeling myself. “What I’m struggling with is that I don’t believe that way anymore. But I don’t know what I believe in terms of sex, marriage, and physical relationships. You and I just met. I feel like I know you way more than the amount of time we've known other should allow, though, if that makes any sense."
He nods. "Does to me. I feel the same way."
"I don't think that there's anything wrong with sharing a physical connection with someone you care about,” I say. “Being intimate with someone you want to explore a long-term relationship with is just…I dunno. Normal? I don’t think it has to be only within marriage, either. I think that can complicate things, actually.” I sigh and spend a few moments staring at nothing, considering. “I realized recently that I never truly knew Brennan. I still don’t understand why he took things so excruciatingly slow and then was so…disinterested in me sexually but was having sexual affairs on the side with three other women. That just makes no sense. And it’s still messing with my head."
"He's just a liar and an asshole. Nothing to understand.” Bear rolls one heavy shoulder. “You were his public face—what he knew he should have: a good girl with a good family. The correct relationship. Chaperones. All that silly shit. But he was a liar. Thought with his dick. Wanted to have his cake and eat it, too. Wasn’t you, it was him."
My mouth flaps open and closed a few times, shocked. He succinctly summarized the whole issue in a few sentences.
"I…" I look at him, shaking my head, processing what he just said. "Wow. Yeah. I guess I was looking for a deeper meaning or something."
"My experience, men aren't that deep. What happened, if you ask me, was he started off believing in your relationship. But as time went on, he started wanting things he didn't think you'd agree to. Or maybe, things he figured weren’t right in the context of your relationship. So he went and got it elsewhere."
I shake my head, disgusted all over again. "I would have given him whatever he wanted. I was always the one pushing the boundaries, and he was the one who always pulled us back. I always wanted more. I tried over and over again to spice things up with him. Try new things. I initiated intimacy all the time. And he wouldn’t turn me down, but…” I want to cry. “He just…he acted like he could take it or leave it. And when I suggested we try new things—you know, anything other than vanilla missionary sex, he…he never put it in so many words, but he made me feel…ashamed, I guess. Of myself. For wanting to go farther." I wipe my face. “He just always made me feel so insecure for being…sexual, I guess.”
"Fucking prick," Bear growls. "Shouldn't feel that way."
"That's what's confusing me now. With us. I want things with you, Bear. I really, really do. But is it too soon? We just met."
Bear doesn't answer for a long time. He licks his lips and tugs on his beard. “Noelle…” A pause. Starts over. “I got no clue how things like this are supposed to work. Never had a relationship.” He looks away, out the window, hiding his expression from me. “I’ve had sex. I’m not a thirty-two-year-old virgin or anything. I just… things were different for me, the way my life was back then. I was a gang-banger. A thug. Dunno what word you want to use. Not a good person. Did bad things. Hung around bad people. Hurt people. Stole things. Hooked up with girls just because. It was always mutual—I never…I never forced anyone. Never ." His eyes fix on mine, pleading with me to believe him.
I squeeze his hand as hard as I can. "I know, Bear. I know . You wouldn't. I absolutely believe that."
He exhales slowly, a sound of relief. "I got no reference point for relationships, Noelle. All I know is that I feel big things for you. I think about you when I’m not with you. Wanna know more about you. But physically, I…" he trails off.
We're less than a block from my parent's house, but I pull over to the curb and hold the brake. "Bear, you can tell me anything. Okay? Anything.”
"I want a physical relationship with you, Noelle. Of course, I do. Been locked up with a few thousand other men for ten years. Sorta…sorta forgot a lotta shit about how life on the outside works. What things are like. Couldn’t tell you who I was with last or what it was like. Been so damn long it’s almost like a…a reset, or somethin'."
"Wow. I, um. that never occurred to me."
He shrugs. "No reason it would. Just saying. I don't expect anything, Noelle. I like spending time with you. That's all I need. If you wanna keep things just friends for a while, I got no problem with that. I understand."
"But you want more."
"Course I do. I mean, fuck. Look at you. You’re…" he shakes his head. "Exquisite. Breathtaking. I don't know a lotta fancy words. Just…yeah. I want more. The way you kissed me back there? Noelle, if you never wanted anything else but to be friends with me, I could die a happy fuckin' man because the most beautiful woman in the whole goddamn world kissed me . Okay? So don't stress. It's what you want it to be."
My throat is hot, my eyes burning. I can't stop a tear from leaking out and trickling down my nose. "God, Bear."
"Cryin’ again? What'd I say?"
I shake my head, laughing through my tears. "I'm not upset. You're just so sweet it hurts."
He frowns, perplexed. "Dunno what that means."
I lean over the console, take his face in my hands, and kiss him. "It means that was the most perfect answer I could have asked for. And then some."
"I'm not sure what to say."
I pull away from the curb. "You don't need to say anything. I'm just grateful I met you."