Chapter 25
Olive spent a few hours thinking too hard as she took a drive down memory lane, going to all her favorite places around the lake. At the first place, she and Katie had hiked up to a bluff and jumped off into the lake, screaming in terror because it was so much higher than they’d anticipated. The thrift shop where she, Katie, Joe, and Noah had made each other buy crazy clothing and then strode into their favorite burger joint like they were dressed for prom. The beach where she’d sat and watched Noah and Joe and a whole bunch of other guys in one of their dads’ boats, taking turns wakeboarding. Her favorite pizza parlor, where she and Katie had put quarters into a vending machine, winning each other fake rings they pretended had been given to them by their boyfriends . . .
Eventually, when it got dark, she got tired. Gone were the days when she could stay up all night reading or hanging out with Katie. Which meant it was official, she was old.
Finally, she ended up back in Sunrise Cove. Not ready to face anyone at Katie’s house, she went to Gram’s. Her parents were out somewhere taking pics. Gram had bunko night going in the kitchen, so Olive made herself scarce by going up to the attic to see if any of her old stuff was still around.
When she climbed the ladder and crawled through the trap door, she froze, stunned. Apparently, she wasn’t done taking that trip down memory lane. Not a single thing had changed in all the years she’d been gone. Well, except for a fairly thick layer of dust. She’d lived in a small bedroom downstairs, but the attic had been her haven. When things had been tough for her at school, Gram had helped her turn the attic into a secret getaway, including a full-size, four-poster bed complete with mosquito netting that Olive had thought made it look like a princess’s bed. There was a chest at the foot of the bed, still filled with her stuff: books, teen magazines, a few photo albums, and some bedding for the nights her teenage self had slept up here pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.
Daylight was long gone, and there was no electricity in the attic, so she hiked down two flights of stairs and gathered some cleaning supplies, along with a battery lantern.
And then she got to work.
It took several hours, but the attic no longer had an inch of dust or cobwebs anywhere. She really hoped any spiders watching her had gotten the message and taken off for greener pastures.
Tired, but her mind clearer than it had been, she sat in the window alcove. Staring out at a glorious moon playing peekaboo in and out of the streaky clouds floating across the dark sky, she tried to access where her mind was at.
She wasn’t mad at anyone. She knew that much. Well, maybe at herself for holding on to the past. She was still watching the night go by when she saw Noah pull into the driveway. She closed her eyes, but when she heard the knock at the front door two flights down, she didn’t have to guess who it was.
Then she heard the front door open and shut. Dammit, Gram. She eyeballed the megaglass of wine she’d poured herself after finishing cleaning, tempted to down the whole thing. But chances were good she’d need all her facilities operating at one hundred percent.
Voices drifted up the stairs, and she knew Gram had pointed Noah in her direction.
And sure enough, thirty seconds later, his head appeared in the trap door. Noah glanced around the room, then climbed through before crossing the room to the window seat.
When she looked up at him, he handed over the phone she’d left with Joey, then came to her side, his gaze searching hers. Since she was pretty sure he could see all the way to her soul when he looked at her like that, she closed her eyes.
“I’m proud of you,”
he said quietly. “Of how you always stay true to yourself. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that, but I should have.”
The words a surprising balm on her heart, she opened her eyes.
His were full of more emotion than she’d ever seen from him, with concern and worry and affection leading the pack. “I’m sorry about my parents—”
She put her fingers over his lips. “Not your fault.”
She handed him her glass. He took a sip and handed it back to her, watching her closely.
“I don’t want to talk about it,”
she said. “It’s in the past, where we’re leaving all our other crap.”
“You asked me for space,”
he said quietly. “Would you like for me to leave?”
What she wanted was to feel something, anything that would remind her that she wasn’t alone, that her life mattered, that she mattered. “I’d rather you stay.”
Setting the wine down, she stood, gesturing with a head tilt for him to come with. She stopped in front of the girlish bed that was barely big enough for one person and looked up at Noah. “Do you want me?”
“Always.”
She melted a little bit at that and stepped to him, fisting one hand in his shirt, sliding her other into his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. He let her have her way with him, then lifted his head. “There are people in the house.”
She bit her lower lip. “You mean because I might make noise?”
“Might?”
“I can’t help it!”
His smile was soft, affectionate. “I know. I love it.”
He kissed her this time, and when they finally came up for air, she took a step back. She relieved herself of her top, then started working on her jeans, which, damn, were a little snug. She blamed the pizza. Catching a foot, she nearly went down. That she blamed on the wine.
Luckily, Noah caught her, and she gave a breathless laugh. “I should definitely cross erotic dancing off my list of future job possibilities.”
He didn’t smile. Instead his eyes blazed with heat and hunger as he took her in standing there in just a bra and undies. Backing away from her, he closed the trap door, then dragged the chest in front of it.
Then he came close again and she gestured to his fully clothed body. “You’re behind.”
His smile was pure bad boy.
Her knees wobbled, but she held her ground, crossing her arms, waiting for him to strip. She wasn’t the only one who had armor, and she wanted him to reveal himself to her.
He reached over his shoulder, fisted his hand in the material, and pulled his shirt off. If she did that her hair would look like a squirrel’s tail—and dear God, why did he always smell so good?
Without another word, they took turns. Her bra, his boots and socks, her bikini panties . . . Then he met her gaze as he reached for the button and zipper on his jeans, undoing both torturously slow, making her practically pant with anticipation.
When he was finally free of his clothes, he stalked to her, sliding a hand into her hair, tugging her head back so he could drag hot kisses down her exposed neck while the fingers of his other hand splayed wide against her rib cage. Her eyes closed as he brushed his lips almost questioningly over the pulse racing at the base of her throat before lifting his head. “Yes?”
he murmured.
That he would still ask for permission would’ve melted her into a puddle of desire if she hadn’t already been there. He had a hand tangled in her hair, his lips inches from hers, unmoving. Waiting patiently. His eyes were sheer erotic hunger, and she knew what came next would be all-consuming, blazing hot, and, best yet, would drive all the negative thoughts and worries from her brain. “Yes,”
she breathed.
And then they both sort of lunged into each other at the same time. They’d shared a lot of kisses, but none had been anything like this. Somehow he put everything he had, every part of him, into that kiss, showing her more of himself than in all the years they’d known each other. The real him, the one that so far had always been safely kept guarded by his inner brick walls. She’d knocked some of them down, but she’d been so sure she would never get through all of them.
Until now.
She had no idea what had changed for him, and it didn’t matter. Reciprocating his surprising openness, she in turn let him see into the darkest corners of her soul, let him feel the deepest emotion in her heart.
Lifting his head, he looked at her, really looked at her, and then smiled. “You know you’ve got all the power here.”
She smiled, and he laughed, which always did something to her, healing something deep inside of her that she hadn’t even realized she was holding on to.
Picking her up, he tossed her onto the bed, and then followed her down.
“Hurry, Noah.”
“No,”
he said very gently.
And not another word was spoken for the rest of the night. Well, because her softly and desperately whispered “more,”
“don’t stop,”
and “harder”
didn’t count, right?