Chapter Fifteen Noah #2
She shakes her head before I even finish asking the question. “Not at all. You?”
I scratch at my chin, thinking about it.
I’m sure it should, since I’ve technically known her since she was a teen, but I definitely wasn’t thinking about an underage Odette in any sort of way other than sisterly back then.
I barely even knew her, having only met her a handful of times in the summers.
It’s a different story now, though. I don’t think of her as sisterly at all. Far from it.
“No.”
“Good.” She nods. “Besides, if you did, I would just tell you all about how my nonna’s third marriage was to a guy fifteen years her senior, so twelve years is nothing.”
“And gay, if I recall correctly.”
She laughs. “Yeah, that too. Maybe not the best example, huh?”
“Not really.” I slide my bottle back and forth between my hands. “So, come here often?”
She rolls her eyes. “Please, you have better lines than that, I’m sure.”
“Eh, you’d be surprised. I’ve been out of the casual hookup culture for a long time.”
“Ah, right. The marriage.”
The word doesn’t sound as unpleasant to my ears as it once did, but I’m sure that’s just because I’ve been tortured with wedding talk for the last few weeks.
The server sets our baskets in front of us, each overflowing with fries and a giant burger. We dive into our dinner, a comfortable silence falling between us.
When we’re halfway through, Odette’s the one to speak first.
“Can I ask you something?”
I nod. “Sure.”
“Why’d you get divorced?”
I swallow roughly, and I tell myself it’s because of the giant bite of food in my mouth.
But it’s not that. Not at all.
It’s the truth that’s tripping me up.
“I, uh, I’m not sure, really.”
She arches a brow at me. “You have to know. You didn’t just undo a marriage for funsies.”
No, I didn’t.
I sigh, then set my burger back in the basket.
I pull in a steadying breath. I don’t talk about my ex-wife often, because it hurts.
Not because I’m still hung up on the relationship or still have feelings for her, but because the reason we got divorced nearly four years ago isn’t an easy pill to swallow—me.
“Chelsea and I were . . . we wanted different things. She wanted me to be someone I wasn’t, and I couldn’t make that happen for her.
I tried. Fuck, did I try, but it wasn’t enough.
I . . . I wasn’t enough for her. She told me this all the time.
Sometimes in a subtle way and sometimes really fucking direct, but that was the issue.
I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t winning enough.
I wasn’t making enough. I wasn’t attending parties enough.
I wasn’t around enough. I didn’t want a family enough.
I didn’t try enough. I didn’t love her enough.
It just . . .” I exhale heavily. “I wasn’t what she wanted.
The life we carved out together wasn’t what she planned for. So I ended it.”
“You ended it?”
I nod. “Yeah, and she was not happy about it, which is why the divorce took so long to settle. She kept dragging her feet and wanted more and more money. I got tired of it, paid her what she wanted, walked away, and never looked back.”
“I guess it’s safe to say you really weren’t upset about the engagement announcement then?”
“No.” I laugh lightly. “I’m happy for her, you know? Things between us might not have worked out, but I still want her to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for her, actually. I hope she gets that.”
Odette gives me a sad smile, and if she were anyone else, it might piss me off. But it’s her, and I find myself not minding it as much.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Though I’ve clearly never been married, I have seen my fair share of people go through divorce, and I know it’s never easy. So I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Chelsea.”
“Thanks.”
“But for what it’s worth, you deserve your happiness too. And I don’t think you need to change anything about yourself. You are enough, and I like you just fine, Noah.”
I’m sure that’s easy for her to say. We’re just having sex and having fun.
We aren’t in a real relationship. I might not be enough for her, just like I wasn’t enough for Chelsea.
I’m afraid what I’m doing for the barn won’t be enough for Izzy’s wedding either.
That it won’t be enough to bring in more revenue so we can make the iceplex happen.
That no matter how hard I work, I am still not enough.
Still, I give her a soft smile, then hide all my doubts behind a bite of food.
But I really want to tell her I like you just fine, too, Odette.
And I’m not quite sure how to feel about that.
We finish our dinner with much lighter topics than my divorce, then head to the ice cream shop up the street.
I hadn’t planned to spend my evening with her, but I’m glad I am. I was just going to go back to my place and read in bed until I fell asleep with my book on my face, but this is much better than that.
“Now you’re getting the worst kind of ice cream too?” she complains as we leave the shop, each holding a cone.
“How is vanilla the worst?”
“Because it’s boring. It’s what people who can’t make up their minds get. Or old people.”
That’s the second time tonight she’s called me old, and the second time I feel like I need to prove to her I am far from it.
I grab her hand, tug her into a nearby alleyway, and press her up against the wall, pushing my knee between her legs.
She grins up at me, then brings her ice cream cone to her lips and licks it slowly. “Well, hi.”
I growl, then kiss her, not caring that she tastes like cotton candy ice cream or that my own cone is leaking down my hand, making a mess.
I have to kiss her. I can’t wait for another second.
I told myself I would leave her be tonight, yet here I am anyway, making out with her in an alleyway because I just can’t seem to get enough.
It’s reckless. Anyone could walk by at any second, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care.
Not with the pleased noises she’s making or the way she rocks against my thigh.
How she’s pulling me closer and begging with her body for more.
Not when she’s got me completely under her spell.
“Noah,” she groans. “What are you doing to me?”
“Kissing you.” I echo her words from the night she showed up at my house, then take her mouth again.
Our ice cream is definitely a melted mess on this warm July night, but so what? It’s worth it to feel her body that’s so damn soft under me.
Her knee-length blue skirt that matches her eyes is bunched up high, and I can’t help myself as I snake my hand between us and cup her pussy through her panties.
She’s wet.
No, not just wet. She’s drenched, and it’s all for me.
I want to taste her. I want to hike her skirt up and see how she compares to this sweet dessert dripping down my hand, but I can’t.
Not here.
I pull my hand away, and at the same time I wrench my mouth from hers, and she gasps for air.
“Ugh. You’re such a tease,” she complains through labored breaths.
I laugh darkly, running my nose over her cheek, capturing her earlobe between my teeth with a light nibble. “How about I take you back to my place and remind you just how old I’m not?”
“I think that sounds like a very, very good idea, Mr. Stevens.”
I groan, dropping my head to her shoulder. “That’s it. Boner ruined.”
She laughs loudly, and I can’t help but kiss her again.
This time it’s quick, because if I don’t get her back to my place soon, I might just fuck her right here against this wall.
And wouldn’t that get the town talking?
I lead her to the truck that I parked back over by Dickie’s, ditch my melted cone in the trash, then help her into the passenger seat.
“Do you have a napkin in here, by chance?” she asks once I’m behind the wheel. We’re both a total mess, ice cream all over my shirt and hers still running over her hand.
“I doubt it, but check the center console just in case,” I tell her, putting the vehicle into drive and steering out onto Harborview Boulevard.
She searches the console, then the glove box, but comes up empty.
“Oh well.” She shrugs, then licks along the line of ice cream that’s trailed over to her wrist.
“Fucking hell.” I press down on a cock that’s still heavy between my legs. “You keep doing that, and I’m not sure I’m going to make it all the way back to my house.”
“Doing what?” She grins innocently, although we both know she’s anything but. “I’m just eating my ice cream cone that’s melting because of someone.”
She drags her tongue over her index finger, then her middle, and it takes everything I have to keep my eyes on the road and not on her, especially as she begins to lick the ice cream like she would my cock.
Fuck, what I would give to feel her mouth wrapped around me.
“Take it out.”
I dare a glance over at her just as we pass through the end of the downtown waterfront.
“What?”
“Your cock, Noah. Take your cock out. I want to see it.”
It might be irresponsible and easily one of the most impulsive things I’ve ever done, but I do it anyway.
With one hand on the wheel, I undo my pants and pull my throbbing cock free. Her eyes widen as she takes me in.
“Touch it.”
I do. I wrap my fist around myself, flicking my wrist upward lazily, and Odette runs her tongue over her lips as she watches me.
“God, that’s hot,” she whispers, and I realize then that she’s got her free hand between her legs, that skirt that has no business being so fucking sexy pushed up high. I can’t see her touching herself, but I know she is, and I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.
I pull onto the dirt road that leads to the cidery and press on the gas, definitely going well above the speed limit, but I don’t care. If I don’t get inside her soon, I might lose it.
“Do it again, Noah,” she begs.
I do, and she licks the ice cream at the same time.
I groan, imagining it’s me she has her tongue wrapped around. Fuck, this is torture. It is delicious torture, but torture all the same.
I stroke myself harder and faster, and she licks on her ice cream as her fingers move under her skirt, and I’m dying.
I am going straight to hell for this, but I don’t care.
We speed past the cidery, then hit the road for my place.
Her pants are growing harsher, my cock is growing harder, and we’re both seconds away from making a complete mess in my truck.
I hit the brakes as I pull into my designated parking spot, jerk off my seat belt, then reach over the console for her.
She comes to me willingly, her mouth fusing with mine, her ice cream cone long forgotten and now a mess on my floorboards. I don’t care. I’ll clean it out later. I have more important things to take care of now.
She settles on my lap, my cock sliding against her wetness, and it’s so fucking hot. I want to fuck her. I want to feel her tight little pussy around me.
“Odette,” I say against her. “Get the condom out of my wallet.”
She reaches behind me to grab the rubber I’m damn glad I thought to replace before leaving the house as I move my lips to her throat, sucking and nipping at her. She pulls it free, opens the wrapper, then slides the condom over my dick.
She follows it with her wet cunt, pushing her panties to the side as she sinks down on me with a long, low groan.
Yeah, so much for avoiding her tonight, indeed.
There’s no slow buildup. There’s nothing romantic. She just holds on to my shoulders and fucks herself on me, head thrown back as she finds a rhythm that works for her.
I let her, loving how she looks as the orange-and-pink sunset casts colors over her skin. As sweat forms along her brow and the windows steam up. As her lips part when she finds that spot that feels just right. And as she falls apart around me, taking my own orgasm right along with her.
She slumps against me, satiated and with a small smile on her lips.
I love this look for her—contented and sleepy.
I kiss her temple, trying to get my heart out of my throat.
“We should probably go inside,” I say after several long minutes.
She pushes off me, looking up at me with pinkened skin and sleepy blue eyes. “Already ready for round two? I didn’t realize old men could go again that quickly.”
“Odette,” I warn, and she laughs.
She pulls off me with a groan, then pushes open the door and hops out of the truck.
“Last one in owes the other an orgasm!”
Then she takes off toward the house, peering back over her shoulder with a laugh.
After tucking myself away, I chase behind her with a grin of my own and realize that if she asks, I might just follow her anywhere.
The thought isn’t as scary as it should be.