Chapter Eight
I roll over, my body aching in places it hasn’t ached in for a long time.
The room is dark, quiet, and I know I’m alone in here, the space beside me cold and undisturbed.
I don’t remember Noah putting me to bed; the last thing I recall is being curled up in his lap, cocooned in the safety of his arms as I broke down.
He held me as my shoulders shook with the weight of the tears; tears I have no idea why fell. Who the hell cries after sex!?
Sitting up, I wince as muscles strain, my thighs especially, and lean back on the headboard to rub the sleep away from my eyes.
The clock on the bedside table reads a little after three in the morning.
I’m dressed now, the fabric soft under my fingers.
Likely one of Noah’s shirts, but I feel sticky and hot and desperately need to use the bathroom.
My knees wobble a touch as I climb from the bed, padding to the door that’s been left open an inch. No light leaks in through the gap; the apartment beyond is sleeping. Across the hall, Noah’s bedroom door is closed.
There’s a twinge in my chest, a sense of wrongness that has my skin prickling in response. There’s been a handful of occasions where Noah and I have slept in the same bed, obviously platonic, and it wasn’t a big deal. But he put me to bed in his spare room after I fell asleep on him, and that just…
He just fucked me to tears—literally, but didn’t think to lie with me? I shake my head. It’s not a big deal. This isn’t a real thing after all; we’re just doing it as a means to an end, right?
Still, it makes my heart ache a little.
I want to say it was all a mistake, that I knew even giving an inch would hurt me in some way, but I don’t regret it. I don’t regret letting Noah have that part of me. I don’t regret how he made me feel.
I close myself away in the main bathroom and turn on the faucet, catching my reflection in the mirror.
My cheeks are a little rosy, my mouth swollen, and there are little red marks on my neck, evidence of everything we did on that couch.
Filling my palms, I splash cold water onto my cheeks and then plug the basin so it can fill.
Stripping off the shirt and boxers Noah put me in, I grab a cloth and begin to clean myself, washing away the dried sweat that makes my skin feel too tight. I’m expecting to find stickiness between my legs, the evidence of us leaking from me still, but I’m clean… well, mostly.
Did he… Did Noah clean me up? My cheeks burn at the idea of him doing that.
“Really, Sidney,” I tut quietly, mumbling to myself, “The man just had your ankles on his shoulders and was real up close and personal with all your lady bits.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, stomach clenching as flashes of memories light up the front of my mind. The way his muscles flexed, rippled as he worked me, the way his cock stretched me open and went so deep I had no sense of my own name.
Who knew Noah was such a god in the bedroom.
No. It makes sense actually.
Shaking my head, I grab a new cloth and wet it, running it over the nape of my neck in the hope it’ll ease the neediness rising up.
I place my clothes back on after I dry myself off, careful with the tender spots, and empty the basin, tiptoeing back out of the bathroom. I return to the spare room, pausing only for a second outside Noah’s door.
No sound filters out from the room, and my fingers itch to press down the handle, to peek inside, but I don’t. Instead, I shut myself away in the room opposite that feels a million miles away, and I lay awake until the sun crests over the city.
Sneaking out before Noah even woke isn’t something I do often. Not even being late for work would have me leaving without our morning coffee, but the moment the sun was up, I was gone.
Call me a coward.
Facing him this morning wasn’t something I was ready to do, which is totally unlike me. Noah knows me, down to my very bones, but—I don’t know. I need to put a bit of space between us to let myself think.
Last night was a monumental moment. I can feel it, right in the very core of me, in my soul, but I just don’t know what that looks like.
Nothing big, I hope, just some cold feet, maybe. We’ve never crossed the line between friends and more, and of course I knew agreeing to let him get me pregnant would come with all that naked dancing; I just hadn’t anticipated how I would feel. Or maybe I had, and I just thought I’d be fine.
I’m still feeling him; there’s a soreness between my legs, ever present, especially when I sit down, an ache I feel every time I move.
What makes it worse is that it throws me right back to last night, to his body moving on top of mine, his hands bruising where they held me, and I get wet all over again. It’s ridiculous.
Here I thought I had total control over my body.
Apparently when it comes to fucking my best friend, all sense of bodily autonomy goes out the damn window because he can fucking own me.
No.
That’s bad.
That crosses all kinds of boundaries and every line drawn between us.
Once I’ve showered and braided my hair, I pull on a cute floral-printed skirt and cami, and then walk the couple of blocks to my shop, stopping at my favorite coffeehouse on the way.
There’s a short queue when I enter, a bell jingling as the door opens and closes, and I join the end of it, pulling out my phone to check for messages.
There’s only one.
Noah: Coffee on me, cricket.
I frown at the screen, rereading the four words over and over until I reach the front of the line. If overthinking were a person, it would be me.
“Sidney, right?” The girl behind the counter beams at me, “You come in every day.”
“That’s right,” I blink at her.
“Iced caramel latte? Extra shot?”
“Yes,” I tuck my phone away. “Please.”
I pull my wallet from my purse, but the girl waves me off, “It’s covered.”
“Noah?” I gnaw on my bottom lip.
“That’s the one! He called ahead. Your coffee is covered for the month.”
“The month!?”
“He’s so sweet,” the girl practically swoons on the other side of the counter, “You’re a lucky woman.”
Swallowing thickly, I nod, “Yep. That’s me.”
Her brows twitch with a frown, “Your coffee will be done soon.”
Thanking her, I move to the end of the counter and bring my cell back out.
Me: Thank you for the coffee.
The text is read immediately, three dots appearing a second later.
Noah: I missed you this morning.
I shift on my feet, thumbs hovering over the screen as I try to figure out what to reply. Another text comes in before I can.
Noah: Need to talk about it?
Me: I’m feeling a little conflicted.
My stomach twists as I send the message, choosing the truth. I don’t want to lie to him, and I know if I do, he’ll call me on my bullshit.
Noah: I figured. Meet for lunch?
Me: I have a busy day today.
Can you come to me?
Noah: Always. See you later, cricket.
I tuck my phone away and grab my drink from the counter.
I sip my coffee as I walk the short distance around the block and get the shop open, flipping the sign and turn on all the lights.
A wall of dried peonies greets me first, a variety of pinks and whites, and purples hidden in a foliage of green.
I need to go through the readymade bouquets sitting in the buckets since a few are wilting, but for the most part of today, I have bespoke orders to complete ready for their collections plus any online orders that have come in overnight for delivery.
Once I have the front of the store cleaned up, I move to the back room where I can focus on my other work, collecting the flowers and fillers I need and place them in the buckets at the side of the desk.
The hours tick by quickly, my fingers turning sore as I work them, but I manage to get four bespoke orders completed as well as two orders that need to be sent out today for delivery. I’m just arranging the courier when I hear the bell above the door jingle.
“Noah?” I call.
His steps thump against the wooden floor as he makes his way back to me, coming to a stop in the doorway to lean against the frame. He looks pristine in his white shirt and black pants; the collar left undone while his mouth curls on one side in a grin that hits me right between my legs.
Jesus.
I’ve always found Noah attractive, not sure there’s a woman in this city who doesn’t think the same way, but now I’ve had a taste of him, that attraction has turned.
Morphed into something desperate and needy.
A deeper part of me, a part I cannot control, feels tethered to him, and that rope keeps tightening, growing taught as it tries to force me closer. To lose myself in him.
“Hey,” I squeak.
One dark smudge of a brow lifts in amusement, “Feeling a little shy?”
Heat blooms in my cheeks and I stare down at the stem I was working on, removing the thorns. “No.”
His warm chuckle makes the hair on my arms stand, but I don’t look up, not even when I hear his steps cross the room. His presence wraps around me as he comes to a stop behind my stool, his palms flattening on the desk on either side of me, lips at my ear.
“Friends don’t lie to each other.” His voice rolls through me, the vibration of it traveling from his chest and into my spine.
My body responds, nipples tightening beneath my shirt, warmth pooling between my thighs.
I shift and cross my legs, hoping to ease the ache forming there, pressing my thighs together.
“Let’s talk about it, cricket,” he says. “We can’t move forward with this if you choose to lie.”
Steadying my breath, “Does it feel weird to you?” I turn to look at him, his face so close to mine I can pick out every color in his eyes. He smells damn good, spicy and inviting, making me want to bury my face in his neck to get high on it.
“Weird how?”
“Well, you were inside me less than twelve hours ago.”
His eyes spark, “Hard to forget.”
“We’re okay?” I ask the one thing that has truly been bugging me. I can’t lose Noah.
“Sidney,” he softens, “Nothing changes between us.”
Nodding my head, my eyes dip to his mouth, “Just friends who fuck, right?”
A growling noise vibrates through his chest, “Sidney.”
“Mm?” I lift my eyes back to his, my breath stalling when I see the way he is staring at me. It’s intense and animalistic.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he growls, “It’s hard enough remembering how you looked when you came all over my cock, and right now I am trying to be supportive.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything,” I breathe.
“You look like you want to kiss me,” he runs his tongue along his bottom lip, “And if you keep it up, I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”
“You can’t do that,” I swallow.
“And why the fuck not?”
“We’re friends.”
He suddenly pulls away from me and spins me on the stool until I am facing him. His hands go to my waist and he hoists me up, planting me on my work desk.
“Friends who fuck,” he growls as he lowers to his knees.
My eyes widen, “Noah, what are you doing?”
“You won’t let me kiss your mouth, then fine,” His hands slide up my thighs, disappearing beneath my skirt and my whole body lights up. “There are other places I can kiss.”
He curls his fingers at the top of my ass and drags me forward.
“Lie back.” He orders.
“Here!?”
“Lie back,” his demand is sharp and desperate. I obey, leaning down to rest on my elbows as his fingers slide into my panties, pulling them to the side. “Such a pretty fucking pussy, Sidney.”
He blows a breath over me, the cool air a shock to my system, and a whimper escapes my lips.
“What if someone comes in?” I breathe, some part of me knowing this is wrong, that we are crossing too many lines, but I’m helpless to stop it.
“Then I guess they’ll learn a thing or two about friendship.”