Chapter 24 Sienna
TWENTY-FOUR
SIENNA
There’s a breath between when Noah’s apology slips from his lips and when his mouth is hot against mine. A single heartbeat in which I go from being certain he forgot about me to being reminded that what we experienced six years ago was unforgettable.
The ground tilts beneath me as his hold on my neck tightens, as he presses his body flush to mine and steals every one of my breaths like he can’t get close enough.
I clutch at his shirt and tug him closer. I should push him away, but suddenly, touching him feels as necessary as oxygen. And with each mind-numbing kiss, he breathes life back into me, reminding me of who I am.
It takes seconds for him to restart my heart, to bring color back to the world around me. Blood rushes in my ears, the sound like ocean waves crashing around us.
I’m transported back to the feeling of possibility he inspired in me long ago. To a different time, when I was a different person with an entire new life ahead of me.
Noah licks my lips and skims a hand down my body with the confidence of a man who has every right to touch me.
There’s no fumbling, no tremors. He knows my body better than I know it myself.
Already my legs shake in expectation. It’s been years since he touched me, but the effects of that touch still haven’t worn off.
They’ve reverberated inside my body, my mind, every day since I got on that plane in the Bahamas.
“Open your eyes, baby,” he murmurs against my lips.
That moniker sounds more natural on his lips than it has any right to. God, how could I have lived without this for so long?
I blink my eyes open, and when he comes into focus, a whimper climbs up my throat. I’d forgotten how beautiful he was. His glasses are slightly fogged over from our steamy kiss, dulling the color of his eyes.
I pluck them off his face and fold them up carefully, then study him in earnest. His expression is one of awe, like the man is wonder struck, as he surveys me in return.
“Is this real?” I mumble. It sure doesn’t feel real.
He towers over me, even in my five-inch heels, and crowds me against the wall, every inch of his body touching mine.
Our hips press together, our chests heaving in sync, brushing against one another.
He strokes a hand over my hip like he’s trying to ground himself to this moment as well.
Like he’s searching for a sensation that will prove that this isn’t a dream.
Noah’s voice is all gravel when he responds. “Fuck, I hope so.” He plucks my nipple, his aim deadly accurate through the fabric of my dress and bra.
The move tugs at an invisible tether linked directly to my core, and the sensation pulls a moan from me.
“It’s hard to believe you’re real. That you’re here,” he grits out. “You, after all this time. You’re absolute perfection.”
As if my lower half has a mind of its own, one foot moves, dragging along the floor, creating more space between my legs. He slots a leg between mine, bending his knee, and my hips roll forward, pressing into him.
His eyes flare, the blue of his irises burning with need. “Still so reactive. So obedient,” he rasps. The praise is another reminder that he remembers every detail of our weekend together.
I can’t help the needy whimper that it pulls from my throat.
He drags the back of one finger over my breast and down to my belly. His touch is barely there as he skims along my pubic bone, but when he reaches my clit, he adds the tiniest bit of pressure and rolls a knuckle over that spot.
“Fuck,” I breathe, squirming against the wall.
“Are you going to come for me, butterfly? You know how much I love it.” His breath ghosts over the shell of my ear, eliciting a full-body shiver. And the kiss he plants on the sensitive spot just below lights up my nerve endings.
“Touch me, please,” I beg.
He licks the spot and nips at my earlobe before he drags his lips back to my mouth. As he fuses his mouth to mine, he slides his hand beneath my dress and trails the rough pads of his fingers against my thigh slowly, dragging out the moment, torturing me, making the burn that much hotter.
I shouldn’t want this. We shouldn’t be doing this. As of today, I’m his boss.
But he’s so much more than a member of the hockey team I’m now overseeing. He’s my Noah. The man I’ve spent years searching for.
When he reaches my panties, he growls into my mouth. “It’s like coming home. Fuck, can I come home, baby, please?”
The way he begs, when I know he never does, cracks me wide open.
I nod, my nose brushing his. “Yes. Fuck. Yes, just touch me.”
With his teeth sunk into his lip, he pushes my lace panties to the side. Then, without warning, he spears me with two fingers.
We groan in unison, and my pussy throbs.
“You’re so fucking tight, Sienna. Fuck, I missed this perfect cunt. Your silky heat owns me.”
The indecent wet sounds we make are loud in the quiet room.
God, after all this time, he still knows exactly how to touch me. Exactly how to get me where he wants me.
I tug on his hair, pulling him closer. He could be inside me, and he still wouldn’t be close enough. Irrationally, I worry he’ll disappear from beneath my fingertips. Like a mirage. Like he was never here to begin with.
With a groan, he grinds against me, his thick, hard cock trapped in the confines of his pants as he fucks me slowly with his fingers and kisses the goddamn life out of me.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “The feel of your tight little cunt squeezing me is enough to make me come, baby—” His words are cut off by a guttural noise.
When his mouth drops open and his eyes flare wide with heat, I come undone.
My vision goes spotty, and I spasm, sinking beneath the surface of this sexed-out abyss.
All the while, he rasps out my name and comes against my thigh.
When I can breathe again, I drop my head back against the wall and laugh. “Holy shit.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and groans. “Sorry, I—”
I push at his chest. “Let me grab something to clean up.”
The moment his body isn’t pressed up against mine, awkwardness seeps in. I push down my skirt, and with a half smile, I hold out the glasses I’m still clutching in one hand.
He takes them without breaking eye contact. If he’s uncomfortable with cum coating his pants, he doesn’t show it. No, the man watches me like he’s worried I’ll escape if he looks away.
That’s exactly what I did last night, so I guess I can’t blame him. And suddenly, I’m considering the tactic again as I pluck a few tissues from the box on my desk.
As I turn back, my attention snags on the stack of folders. On the one on top, with his name emblazoned on it.
My stomach plummets. Shit. What was I thinking?
I whip around and sit on the edge of the desk, hiding the folder from his line of sight, and hold out the tissues.
He stalks across the room without an ounce of shame, and when he stops in front of me, he undoes his buckle and opens his pants, exposing his still half-hard cock, then uses the tissue to wipe himself clean.
The moment is so intimate, so personal. I should look away. But I can’t. I can’t focus on anything but the ease with which he moves and the length I still feel branded inside me six years later.
The hunger that I thought was sated only seconds ago dials up again.
He tosses the tissue in the trash beside my new desk and tucks himself back in, like all of this is completely normal.
Then again, maybe it is to him. Maybe he’s a player like so many of the pro athletes my brothers have always warned me about.
I dismiss the idea as quickly as it appears. We may have only spent a couple of days together, but I know better than that.
Once his glasses are back in place, he meets my eye and gives me a lazy smile. “Hi.”
The nerves winding tight inside me break free and rush out with a giggle. “Hello again, Noah Harrison.” I like saying his name. Knowing his last name is like finding the last puzzle piece and popping it into place.
“Hello again, Sienna Langfield.” As he forces out my last name, his voice goes hoarse, like it’s a problem. Though I already knew it would be.
A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow past it. “I told you the name would change things.”
He gives me a simple nod.
“I know it’s a lot to wrap your head around and you’ve only had a few hours to deal with it, but—”
He steps forward and places one of his big hands on my thigh.
I can’t help but study the spot, relishing the sight of his hand on me.
“I’ve had a bit longer than that to think about it,” he says evenly.
Blinking, I zero in on his face. “What?”
He nods slowly, his eyes darting between mine like he’s considering what he wants to say next.
Like whatever it is, I won’t like it.
The earth shifts beneath me again. At least I’m sitting this time.
“I discovered who you were a while ago.”
Confusion and concern grow in my chest. “How?”
He swipes the glasses off his face and wipes at his eyes with a groan. “I saw you at Brooks’s wedding.”
“Wait, that was—” I do the math and my stomach tumbles. “That was over a year ago.”
He presses his teeth into his bottom lip and nods solemnly.
Moment after moment flashes through my mind. Times over the last year when I wished and hoped that I’d find Noah. Moments when I was at my weakest, when I berated myself for wanting him there to comfort me.
My return to Paris after the wedding, when it was time to face the music.
The moment I gave up on my dreams and my business for good.
The instant everything I’d worked for went up in flames.
The day I moved home, broken, my only solace was the thought that being stateside might increase my chances of locating that stupid book with his information in it.
God, I was so na?ve. All that time, he knew who I was and he chose not to reach out.
He chose to keep me in the dark.
To stay away.
I push back, scrambling off the desk.
Before I can, Noah grips my hips tightly, holding me in place. “Please give me a second to explain.”