Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I’d rather than coffee than compliments just now.” ~Louisa May Alcott , Little Women
N at’s wet clothes clung to her body, and her sandals squished with each step. Hands linked, she led Noah to the farmhouse’s attached garage, where the washer and dryer were kept. They walked through the door, clicking on the light. A gentle buzz hummed as yellow light flooded the garage.
The garage walls were filled with shelves of neat and organized supplies and storage. A small laundry nook was tucked in the corner. Since Elle moved in, the other half of the two-car garage was home to her vehicle. Of course, Nat’s overprotective brother would insist the woman he loved park her car in the garage that he never used for himself. It was just who he was.
“Let’s get these in the wash,” she said, peeling off the clinging dress. Lifting the lid of the washer, she tossed it in. Then, pulled off her underwear and unclasped her bra.
Her skin thrummed with the relief from the removal of the uncomfortable wet fabric.
She turned to take Noah’s clothes but found him motionless. His soaked black T-shirt balled in his fists, his stare heated, and throat bobbing. Nat’s breath caught at the rapid rise and fall of his sculpted chest and the darkening of his blue eyes. This is the first time he saw her… all of her. Earlier it was only her lower half he’d seen and feasted upon.
She moved closer, basking in his gaze. The heat of his stare crawled up her legs, to the curve of her hips, up her torso, over her breasts, along the column of her throat, coming to rest on her face.
Being naked in front of someone for the first time often set off a swirl of doubts for her. She’d fixate on how her legs weren’t long and toned like other women. Or wish for larger breasts and hips that popped. Regret would surge for not working out enough to tone the softer parts of her body. All those emotions would result in self-conscious nerves and attempts to use her hands or arms to hide her perceived imperfections.
Not tonight. The fire of Noah’s gaze boosted her confidence.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured.
She stepped closer. She was perfect in his eyes and, in that moment, in her own. No second guesses slowed her steps as she closed the distance between them.
“Thank you.” She smiled, taking the wet T-shirt from his hand. Twisting, she flung it into the washer as if shooting a ball into a basket. “Nothing but washer.”
A deep chuckle belted from him.
Turned back to face Noah, her eyes drank him up. She raised her hand and skated her fingers across his cool, damp skin. His breath grew ragged with each stroke on his muscular shoulders, down his broad chest, and over the ridges of his taut stomach. A small tremor rippled through him along the path of her fingers.
“Someone has school spirit,” she teased, using her finger to outline the yellowjacket tattoo, the Perry School Mascot, on his right peck. “When did you get this?” she asked.
This is the most of him she’d ever seen. There were flashes of memory of him as a teenager in swimming trunks, jumping into the lake from the back of a boat. In the last ten years, though, she couldn’t recall seeing him shirtless or in shorts.
“I got it right before I left for basic training.” His breath stuttered as her fingers traced down his torso to the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the top of his jeans.
“Why a yellowjacket?”
“To keep home close even when I was far away.”
“Home is important to you.”
He placed a hand on her cheek. “As it is to you. We both came back.”
She nodded. They had. Both were driven to come back. One to the admiration and respect of the community breathing new life into a once-dying downtown. The other returned to the role of daughter when she craved to be so much more.
Choosing not to dwell on that, she continued her exploration of his body. “Is this okay?” she asked, her hands touching the buckle of his belt.
The rise and fall of his chest quickened. “Nat,” he paused. “Nobody has seen me…all of me in almost eleven years.”
“Since you were injured.” It was part question, part understanding.
“Yes,” he swallowed hard.
Nat raised her hand, cupped his cheek, and gently commanded, “Let me see you…all of you.”
Noah coiled the fingers around her wrist, guiding it back to his belt buckle. “Okay.”
She unbuckled his belt, keeping her gaze intertwined with his. With determined fingers, she unbuttoned his jeans. Noah’s eyes remained locked with hers while she guided both his jeans and boxer briefs down. He lifted his right foot and then left to step out of the damp clothes. She rose and swiveled to throw them into the washer.
Facing Noah, she crouched on her haunches on the smooth cement floor. Her eyes dropped to his muscular legs. Her fingers glided along the scars of his right leg and ridges of puckered skin from where he’d been injured.
“You’re perfect.” She pressed an earnest kiss to the scars.
In her eyes, he was. Each scar represented his story. His loyalty. His sacrifice. His love.
A shuddering breath escaped him. The tight muscles of his legs relaxed with the touch of her lips. “Nat,” he rasped, bending to take her by the shoulders and guide her up.
Noah took her in a reverent kiss, tucking her against his firm chest.
Aching need spread within her. “Noah…I want you.”
Pulling his working mouth away, he stared at her. “Not here.”
Before the words “When?” or “Where?” left her mouth, he scooped her up into his arms. A breathy giggle flew out of her as he strode out of the garage. His bare feet carried them down the stone path towards the Little Red Barn.
“Your feet,” she laughed. “They’ll get dirty.”
“We’ll clean them in the shower.” His tone was determined.
“Oh, sex in the shower?” she cooed with a sassy lilt.
“After the shower.”
Nat skimmed the fingers of her right hand across his chest. “So, we’re going to get clean before we get dirty?”
“Yes.” He smirked.
He opened the door and carried her inside. Kicking the door shut, he strode across the living room to the bathroom. Deposited to her feet on the cool tiled floor, he turned the shower on and held his hand below the spray until it got to his preferred temperature.
Noah’s fingers threaded through her hair. “Do you want this up or down?”
“Up,” she said, thankful he’d not dunked her in the pond allowing the shoulder-length strands to remain dry.
It was the most intimate experience of her life. The gentle strokes of the hairbrush through her sandy tresses as he brushed her hair up into a high ponytail.
“How did you know to do that?” she asked, watching him place the brush on the counter.
“My mom.” He guided her into the shower and stepped in behind her.
The warm water cascaded across her heated skin.
“But I’d prefer not to talk about her when I am naked with you.”
“Your mom doesn’t get you whipped up into a lusty frenzy?” she sassed.
Noah squeezed some body wash onto his hand. “Probably about as much as talking about your dad would when I do this.” His hands massaged the foamy liquid onto her breasts.
Arching into his firm but tender touch, her breath hitched. “Point made.”
Noah’s hands crisscrossed her slick skin, rubbing the cucumber-melon scent over her body. With each cleansing swipe, her body hummed, nerves stretching taut. The steam coiled around them as their hands explored one another.
Every muscle in her body contracted with need and then calmed under his caresses. It was the most tantalizing, tension-filled, and relaxing experience of her life.
The shower’s glass door was steamed over as they stepped out. Nat grabbed a fluffy blue towel from the rack and patted him dry. Grinning, he reached behind her to grab a second towel and followed her action.
Once both were dry, she took both towels and placed them on the counter. Taking Noah’s hand, she led him out the door. Moonlight streamed in through the open blinds, illuminating their way across the living room and up the stairs. With each step, her pulse roared. The anticipation of what was about to happen dripped fire along her veins.
“Noah,” she said, breaking the silence as they reached the sleeping loft. The still-unmade bed dared them to mess up the sheets even more. “I am on birth control. My last sexual partner was a year ago. I’ve been tested, and I’m safe.”
He cradled her face. “I’m good.”
“I have condoms if you want, but…” She bit her lower lip.
The wise thing to do would be to use a condom. The medical provider in her wagged a cautionary finger. However, the idea of anything between them at this moment felt wrong. She’d never not used protection with someone. Not with any of her boyfriends. Even if they said they had been tested and she was on birth control, a nibbling concern was always there, warning her subconsciously that they couldn’t be trusted. With Noah, her heart only knew trust.
“Which would you prefer?” He skated his thumb against her cheek, the rough pad soothed over her smooth skin.
“I don’t want anything between us.”
“Me either,” he murmured, dipping his head to capture her lips.
Noah’s hands slid down to her waist, lifted her, and laid her atop the bed. Crawling onto the bed, he hovered above her, caging her between his muscular arms. His strong hands moved down her body to her thighs, the massage slow and erotic. Meeting her mouth in a slow, deep kiss, their tongues danced like long-lost lovers.
Nat’s hands moved up his arms and along his chest. A tingling sensation zinged through every inch of her with the lick of his tongue down her throat, to her collarbone, and, at last, at the hard pink peak of her right breast. Covering her nipple with the heat of his mouth, his tongue rolled and flicked.
She moaned as his teeth grazed the taut nub.
“You like that?” he murmured, soothing the sting with a soft kiss.
She arched into the heat of his mouth. “Yes.”
Shifting his attention, he repeated the sensual caress on her other nipple. A building tension tightened in her core. As Noah worshipped her breasts, she guided his right hand between her legs, where she was already slick with arousal.
He looked up, eyes smoldering. “You want me to touch you…” he slid his finger, finding her clit “…here.”
Melting into his touch, she dug her nails into his shoulder. “Right there.” Her hips moved against his ministrations. The almost torturous slowness of his stroking fingers ignited a pleasurable inferno.
Lowering her hand between them, she wrapped her fingers around his impressive length, beads of precum formed at the tip.
“Oh, god…” A pleasure-filled groan burst from him with her slow strokes of his arousal.
As they moved against each other’s working hands, the room filled with their panting moans. A familiar contraction of her pelvic muscles announced her coming climax. Closing her eyes, she let the orgasm take her.
“Noah,” she whimpered. “I want you inside me.”
Releasing him, she opened her legs wider to ready herself for him. Kneeling between her thighs, he raised her hips and placed a pillow beneath her.
“Is this okay?” he asked, positioning himself at her entrance.
Nat’s blood pulsed as his penis grazed her entrance. “Yes. Please.”
As he slid into her, she bit her lower lip allowing the sensation of stretching to subside.
“So good…nothing has felt so good as you,” he rasped.
“Oh!” she gasped.
The sensation of him pushing deeper inside her overwhelmed her other senses. She was both hungry for more and sated at the same time as her body stretched with the fullness.
Placing his hands on her knees, he guided her into a new angle and plunged deeper into her. The position wound delicious tension inside her.
“Oh, my goddess!” Her arms encircled his neck, using the leverage to meet each of his thrusts.
Their tandem movements collided in a tantalizing dance. The pressure built and almost screamed for the sweet relief of climax. Every muscle in her body spooled tight in anticipation. He slipped his hand between them and caressed her throbbing clit.
“Noah!” she cried out.
A tremor seized her legs. Anchoring her to him…to the moment, she folded her legs around his hips, riding out her climax. Using the momentum of her legs, she drew him deeper into her, quickening the chase of his own release.
“Fuck,” he grunted, pumping harder.
Those calm ocean eyes raged with desire. His movement grew unfocused and frantic. His fingers bit into her hips. His jaw clenched.
Never had she felt so sexy. She was almost drunk in the knowledge that he was losing himself in her.
He shuddered in release with a string of unintelligible curse words. Still panting, he collapsed onto her. His weight atop her was the coziest of blankets. Nat ran her fingers down his damp spine, listening to the slowing of his breath.
After a few quiet moments, he lifted his head. “Thank you.” Their eyes held each other’s stare. “Thank you for accepting me.”
“Thank you for letting me.” She pressed her lips to his sweat-kissed forehead.