CHAPTER 12. Connor #5
“I know,” I admit. “But I’m serious about this. About you.”
Noah studies my face for a long moment, like he’s looking for the catch. “We barely know each other,” he points out, but there’s a note of uncertainty in his voice, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as me.
“We know the important things,” I counter.
“I know you’re smart. And kind. I know you care about animals.
I know you overthink everything, order sushi at ungodly hours, and have a ridiculous collection of graphic T-shirts with puns on them.
” I take a breath. “And I know I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. ”
Noah’s eyes soften. “Not even about Quinn?”
I smile and shake my head. “Not even about Quinn.”
Noah stares at me, his eyes wide with that familiar mix of doubt and hope I’ve come to recognize over the weekend.
The dawn light catches on his tear-stained cheeks as he shakes his head.
“But what if we move in together and you realize you hate my habits?” he asks, his voice small.
“What if you can’t stand the way I…I don’t know, hang the towels to dry instead of leaving them on the floor, or something? ”
I can’t help but smile at the specificity of his worry. “For the record, I hang my towels to dry too. Very neatly.”
“Okay, bad example,” he concedes, shifting slightly on my lap, his weight pleasant and very distracting. “But you know what I mean. What if I drive you crazy? What if you can’t stand living with me? What if—”
I press a finger gently to his lips, stopping him before he can spiral any further.
“Noah,” I say softly, “it doesn’t matter how long we date.
We’d still have to figure out the boring everyday stuff together.
That’s inevitable. And yes, we’ll probably hate some of each other’s habits.
That’s fine. Plus, I already know most of yours.
I can hear you through our walls, remember?
I know you sing in the shower. And when you cook.
” That earns me a small, embarrassed laugh.
“And I know you watch reruns of The Golden Girls at five in the morning when you can’t sleep. ”
Noah’s eyes widen. “You can hear all that?”
“Yup,” I say. “And it’s really cute.”
Noah’s lips twitch upward, but uncertainty still lingers in his eyes. “You say that now, but—”
“I’m happy with you,” I interrupt, because I need him to understand this. “That’s why I’m being so greedy. I want more of you. More time together, more sex, more…everything.”
Something shifts in Noah’s expression—his eyes soften, his lips part, and my heart stutters in my chest.
“Greedy, huh?” he says, and there’s something new in his voice. Playful.
“Very,” I admit, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “But we can take it as slow as you want. We don’t have to decide everything right now.”
Noah nods, his hands settling on my shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns that send shivers down my spine. “What about Pumpkin?” he asks after a moment.
I smile, relieved to move to slightly safer ground. “We can wait on adopting her for a couple of weeks,” I say, though it pains me a little after seeing those photos. “Make sure you don’t hate my habits before we commit to co-parenting.”
Noah laughs. “And what habits would those be?”
I consider this for a moment. “Well, you already know I play video games at night.”
“With the clicking keyboard and the yelling, yes,” Noah says, rolling his eyes. “I’m very familiar with your trash talk at three in the morning.”
“Sorry about that,” I say, genuinely contrite. “I’ll get a quieter keyboard.”
“What else?” Noah prompts, seeming genuinely curious now rather than anxious.
“Let’s see…” I think for a moment. “I’m a bit of a neat freak. Hospital training, I guess. Everything has its place.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” he points out. “What else?”
“Usually I…uh, sleep naked.”
Noah goes completely still on my lap, his eyes widening. A flush creeps up his neck, spreading across his cheeks in a way that makes me want to trace it with my mouth.
“You…sleep naked?” he repeats, his voice suddenly an octave higher.
I nod, watching his reaction with growing amusement. “Every night. It’s good for blood circulation.”
Noah swallows, his flush deepening. “In which organs, exactly?” he asks, and I can tell he’s trying for sarcasm, but he’s too breathless to pull it off.
I chuckle, my hands sliding down to rest on his hips. “All of them, Noah. Blood circulation is important everywhere.”
“Right,” he says faintly. “Of course.”
I can’t stop grinning at how flustered he looks. “Would that bother you?”
Noah’s breath hitches, his eyes darkening. “N-no. I can tolerate that.”
My thumbs trace small circles on the skin just above his hip bones, and I feel him shiver under my touch.
“What I’m trying to say,” I murmur, holding his gaze, “is that I want you for as long as you want me. Whether that’s in separate apartments across the hall from each other, or in a place of our own. Preferably the latter. I just want you in my life.”
Noah bites his lip, looking away, and I can see the internal debate playing out on his face—whether to voice this last fear or keep it to himself.
“What’s bothering you?” I ask gently. “Tell me.”
He takes a deep breath, then blurts out, “What if you hate having sex with me?”
The question hangs between us, shocking in its bluntness. For a second, I just stare at him, trying to process the fact that he’s genuinely worried about this after what happened between us at the cottage.
“Are you serious?” I finally manage, my voice rough with disbelief.
Noah nods miserably, still not meeting my eyes. “We’ve only done it once, and there was no…you know…penetration. And we were both drunk, and maybe it was just the alcohol for you, or—”
I laugh, the sound escaping me before I can stop it—not mocking, just stunned that this brilliant, beautiful man has no idea what he does to me.
“Hey,” I say, cupping his face and making him look at me. “I already love it too much. Just having you in my arms…”
I press him down slightly, encouraging him to shift against me where I’m already hard beneath him. Noah gasps, his pupils dilating as he feels exactly how much I want him.
“Oh,” he breathes, looking both surprised and pleased.
“Yeah, oh,” I echo, my voice dropping lower. “This is what you do to me. Just sitting on my lap, just talking.”
Noah’s lips part, his breathing quickening. He rocks his hips experimentally, grinding down against me, and it’s my turn to gasp at the friction.
“Connor?” he murmurs, my name a question and a plea all at once.
I lean in, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, “I want to fuck you, Noah. So fucking much.” I feel him shudder against me, his hands tightening on my shoulders. “I want to come home from work every day and make you feel good. Fuck you until you’re shaking and begging for me.”
“Jesus,” Noah hisses, his hips moving with more purpose now, creating a rhythm that’s making it hard for me to think clearly. “Connor—”
“Is that enough of an answer?” I ask.
He looks wrecked already, just from my words, and the sight makes my cock throb painfully inside my jeans.
“Fuck,” he curses, rolling his hips more insistently. His own arousal is obvious, pressing against the front of his pants. “Let’s go home, Connor. Please.”
The urgency in his voice sends a thrill through me. Home. As if we already share one. As if it’s already decided.
“Home?” I repeat, needing to be sure.
Noah nods, his eyes clearing slightly as he realizes what he’s said.
“Yes,” he says, more firmly this time. “Let’s go look at apartments today. Or tomorrow. Soon.” He’s babbling slightly, his words coming faster. “Let’s find a place. For us. For Pumpkin.”
My heart feels like it might burst from my chest, too full of emotion to hold.
Then he kisses me once more, quick, before sliding awkwardly back into the passenger seat. I immediately miss his weight, the heat of him against me.
“Drive,” he orders, fastening his seat belt with slightly shaky hands. “Get us back to the city before I decide to risk public indecency charges.”
I grin, putting the car in drive and pulling back onto the empty road.
The rising sun casts everything in gold—the trees, the fields, Noah’s profile as he gazes out at the landscape passing by. His hand finds mine on the center console, our fingers interlacing automatically, like we’ve been doing this for years.
“I love you,” I say, because I can. Because the words feel too big to keep inside.
Noah turns to look at me, his smile soft and private.
“I love you too,” he says, squeezing my hand.