Chapter 05
The last time I noticed someone—really noticed someone—I was in college. A nineteen-year-old sophomore that hated her ex-boyfriend and had no idea I’d take his ass back, have a child with him, and watch him leave us with nothing. Before I had to worry about being left behind, there was a girl on a dance floor with kind eyes and soft hips.
The swoon in my stomach when she smiled at me had been stronger than anything I’d experienced before. I blamed the alcohol. We never saw each other again after that, and I was a firm believer that if someone was meant to be in my life that I wouldn’t be able to stop seeing them everywhere I went.
I’d never had to wonder about being noticed. As far back as I remembered, I put in the work.
The way blue eyes were staring down at me as Sadie walked us through the session was hard to ignore. Noah as Sadie introduced them, had blue eyes close to sunlight. So light our typical bipolar Louisiana sky was jealous.
They had a round face; small ears that poked out from their faded sides and a messy blonde top with little streaks of blue nowhere particular.
I picked at my nails behind my back as Noah shifted from smiling—holy fuck—at Sadie, and examining every inch of my face.
They were taller than me. I’d guess by at least half a foot, maybe a full foot. We didn’t have shoes on, but their broad shoulders and longer torso made me feel small.
“What do you think, Eloise?“
Sadie’s voice rushed back in as the sounds of more than my labored breathing filled my ears.
“Wonderful.“
I managed to push out, turning my body away from Noah’s to regain some composure. “Thank you.”
“Great!“
She clapped her hands together. “Let’s get started. Remember to be natural. Don’t force it.”
Sadie smiled between us, then stepped back toward her equipment.
Noah smiled as I twisted to face them.
“Do you want to start or should I?“
They asked.
I fluttered my fingers loose beside me and stepped forward.
“We should. . .“
I swallowed as little strands of blue and nearly silver-blonde fell into their eyes as they tucked their chin to look at me. “You. I’m not sure what I’m doing.”
They nodded in understanding before gently taking my wrist. I followed Noah carefully until they slipped behind me.
Warmth flooded along my back as they placed a hand across my stomach, and the other holding my inner shoulder. I leaned back into Noah’s chest; chin pointed toward the ceiling so their eyes could find mine.
“Noah, move your hand down on her abdomen a tad.“
Sadie guided them as the camera went off.
Their palm rubbed down my stomach and stopped just above the waistband of my lace boy shorts. I held my breath as their pinky caught inside the band, only for a second, before Noah shifted.
“Sorry.“
Noah breathed out near my ear. “Let me know if I’m pushing it.”
Sadie gave us a few more instructions, and I eventually found myself staring into Noah’s eyes over my shoulder, leg hooked around theirs for support.
“You’re fine. Push me.“
I whispered.
The corner of their mouth curled.
We were front to front in a matter of minutes. Their hands slowly moved along my body; head dipped like they’d touch me with their lips if I gave them permission.
It was sensual. It erotic. It was fucking horrible of me to think about how crossfaded I was becoming to Noah’s touch. Starved from anything for years, and I had turned into a monster at a photoshoot to find anyone that wanted to drag their rough finger pads over my thighs.
“That’s perfect. Right there.“
Sadie’s camera fluttered as she moved to find the best angles. “Noah, head back a—Eloise, why don’t you put your fingers in their hair?”
I gulped as Noah looked up at me from their knees.
“Like . . .“
I threaded my fingers into their messy top and melted into their touch. ‘This?”
“Pull their head back.”
I tightened my fingers slightly and followed Sadie’s instructions.
“Hot. That’s great. Noah, pull her knee a bit closer.”
Their hand hooked under my knee, tugging gently so my body would turn at the slightest angle.
Sadie’s encouragement fell to the back of my mind as Noah’s eyes caught the light shining through the broken glass.
The faintest of freckles sat on the bridge of their nose.
I counted them as we continued. Seventeen.
Each time I found myself straying into my thoughts or becoming too aware of Noah’s hands on me, I counted to seventeen. One photoshoot would not be the death of me.
Hell—one hot Noah would not be the death of me.