Chapter Five
Noah
I wake slowly, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, it’s not from noise or panic. Then I feel it. Warmth against my chest. Soft. I look down.
Cammi. She’s curled into me like she belongs there. Her head is tucked just under my chin, her blond hair spread across my pillow.
My arm is still around her. Tight. Possessive. I don’t move it. My eyes wander over her face—the freckles, the pointed little chin, lashes resting against her cheeks. She breathes slowly and evenly.
Something in my chest shifts. Something deeper. “Angel,” I murmur.
She doesn’t stir, just presses closer, like she heard me anyway. She looks younger like this. Lighter. Untouched by everything she’s been through. Flashes of the night before spring up in my mind. My cock hardens instantly.
I shouldn’t want her. That thought lands hard. I shouldn’t want something this good—not with the demons I carry. What if I hurt her one night during an episode? What if I’m too far in my own head to protect her when it counts? The thoughts fill me with panic.
My hold tightens. I drag in a slow breath, trying to steady myself. It doesn’t work. Because the truth is, I don’t just want her. I need her. And that’s dangerous.
“I should let her go,” I mutter.
But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. I can’t picture myself without her now that I have her this close. This beautiful angel who came out of nowhere and lit up a life I’d written off. She walked into my life, and somehow, everything shifted.
My jaw tightens because I know how this ends. Men like me don’t get to keep the good thingy. We ruin it. Yet, the thought of anyone hurting her—me included—makes me want to do damage.
My grip flexes again. Subtle and instinctive. Because the last truth settles in, and it’s the one I can’t argue with. I’m not letting her go. Not an option. “She’s mine,” I say, low.
The words feel right. I don’t just want to protect her. I want to keep her safe and happy. With me. My thumb brushes lightly over her arm. She shifts slightly, a soft sound leaving her lips.
Then her eyes flutter open. Warm, hazel eyes, still soft with sleep. She blinks up at me. Confused for half a second. Then she remembers, and her cheeks go pink instantly.
“Hi,” she says softly.
My chest tightens, harder this time. That smile is for me. “Morning, angel.”
She tucks her face against my chest, shy all over again, like last night didn’t happen. I huff a quiet breath and slide my hand to her chin, lifting it gently.
“Don’t hide,” I say.
“I’m not,” she whispers.
“You are.”
Her lush, pink lips press together, drawing my eye. Then I lean in, slowly. Our lips meet, soft and warm. Her hand curls into my chest. I deepen the kiss slightly, swallowing her soft moan. Not rushing. Savoring the taste of her.
My hand slides down to her breast, caressing softly. She gasps and exhales softly against my mouth, and that’s it. That small sound, that quiet breath—it wrecks me. My cock hardens, and the need to fuck her intensifies.
She’s not ready.
I pull back just enough to look at her. She whimpers softly in protest, and it takes all my control not to drag her back in my arms. I sit up. “You’re not ready, Cammi. We need to stop before I lose total control.” I warn, my voice rough with need.
She sits up beside me, letting the sheet fall. My hands circle her waist on their own. She holds my gaze with eyes dark with need, lips still swollen from my kisses.
“I’m ready, Noah. I want this,” she says softly. Not scared. Not unsure. Wanting.
My grip tightens slightly at her waist before I force myself to ease off. “Cammi,” I say, my voice lower than I intended. “You don’t know what you’re asking—”
“I know.” She cuts me off, smiling gently.
Her fingers slide up my chest, slow and unsure at first, like she’s still learning what feels right. Then they settle, pressing lightly against me. “I know,” she repeats, softer this time. “But I want to.”
I hold her gaze. “You’re sure?”
She nods. There’s still a trace of shyness there, but it’s steady now. Grounded. “Yes,” she whispers. “I want…all of you.”
The words hit harder than they should. All of me. If she only knew what that meant.
A muscle ticks in my jaw. For a second, I hesitate—not because I don’t want her, but because I do. Too much. Enough to make me doubt every instinct I’ve learned to trust.
Because wanting her like this? It’s not just physical.
It’s the other thing, the thing that edges dangerously close toward control, toward holding too tight, toward taking more than I should.
Part of me wants to bind her wrists and draw it out.
Take her to the edge and hold her there, make her beg before I let her fall.
All of this—she can’t know that. Not yet. Not her first time. My depraved thoughts and desire to have total control will be too much for her.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I rasp.
Her brows pull together slightly. “Then show me.”
The quiet determination in her eyes undoes me. I exhale slowly, trying to steady myself, but it’s useless. She’s looking at me, soft and open and trusting, and I know I’m already losing this fight.
“Angel…” I warn, my thumb brushing lightly along her jaw.
“I trust you,” she says. Simple. Honest. Final.
And that’s the moment everything shifts. She lets go of the sheet, and I inhale sharply. My cock surges at the sight of her pale flesh. Light pink areolas, tightening before my gaze.
I release a loud groan. “Fuck, angel. You’re gorgeous,” I breathe out.
Her cheeks pinken with shyness, but it doesn’t stop her responsive whimper. Tension heightens in the room as I drink in her exposed skin, drawing things out. Palpable need and soft breathing permeate the room.
“Lose the sheet, angel. I want to see all of you.” My voice is guttural with need.
Cammi moans softly as she complies. Her knees fall open, exposing her glistening pussy.
“So wet,” I growl. “Can’t wait to watch you come on my hands.”
She whimpers again. “Hurry…”
I climb off the bed and shed my boxers. My cock bounces free and hardens. Her eyes go wide, and I catch it. “Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you,” I assure her.
I remain by the bed, stroking my cock slowly as I watch her curious gaze. “Have you ever touched yourself?”
Cammi blushes as she nods. “Once.” It’s barely a whisper.
“Show me.”
Her blush deepens, but she slides her hand to her breast, circling her nipple gently and tugging softly. A soft, breathy moan fills the room, and the blood roars in my ears. My hand circles my cock, and I tug hard.
She slides her hand lower, to where she’s already slick, and slowly strokes her the tight nub. A loud whimper. A jerk of her hips. The image sears into my mind, and my body grows taut. Need becomes a living, breathing fire.
I don’t think. I climb back on the bed, kneeling between her spread legs. She pauses her movements. “Don’t stop,” I order.
Her parted lips and soft moans entrance me. I ease a finger into her slippery pussy, working her slow and shallow, learning her.
“Oh, Noah. P-please,” she begs.
Her hips jerk with every stroke of her hand and mine. Her moans turn into loud whimpers that reverberate through the room. I carefully add another finger. I curl my fingers, gentle, and when I feel the soft barrier, my mind goes quiet with certainty. Hers. First. Mine.
“I n-need… P-please, let me come,” she whimpers loudly.
I nudge her finger from her clit and drop my mouth to her clit and suck while I stroke her. She detonates, clenching around my fingers, her hands fisting into my hair as she shakes. I savor her release on my tongue. Need shoots toward my hard cock.
I slide up her body, taking her mouth and swallowing her moans. I press my dick against her wet pussy, holding my own need on a tight leash. I break the kiss. “Are you ready, angel?” I ask
Her eyes are dazed with need and desire. She nods urgently, pushing her hips up, seeking another release. Her hands caress my back and neck as I press slowly into hers. The soft, slippery flesh parts easily, and I push in until I meet the barrier—then through it.
My gaze doesn’t waver, even after the small wince that crosses her face. I hold still, every muscle locked, riding down the urge to move. Cammi is the priority. She’s everything. I lean down to press a kiss to her lips.
“You okay, baby?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I move slowly. Gently. Sweat beads at my temples and down my back from the effort of holding myself in check. She lets out a soft moan, hips rolling to meet mine. I keep my strokes shallow and unhurried, building her back up until she’s mindless with need, pushing into me, chasing it.
“Noah…” Her voice trembles, pleading.
That’s all I need. I press deep, slow and full, until I’m seated all the way inside her and she gasps at the stretch.
“Noah,” she breathes, her hands flexing against the sheets like she doesn’t know what to do with them.
I catch both her wrists and draw them up over her head, pinning them gently to the pillow with one hand. She stills. Her eyes go wide—not afraid. Curious. Wanting.
“Leave them there,” I rasp against her jaw. “Let me.”
Her moans build with every stroke. I keep the pace deep and even, watching her face, reading her—the flutter of her lashes, the way her breath catches each time I bottom out. My control is a thread pulled taut. I hold it. She comes first. Always.
Her hips chase mine, frantic now.
“I—I can’t—please—”
She’s right at the edge and can’t get over it, straining, shaking under my hand. So I give her what she needs.
“Look at me,” I tell her. Low. Certain. Her eyes find mine. “Come for me, angel. Now.”
And she shatters—a long, broken cry, her whole body clenching around me, her wrists pulling against my hand and finding it still there, holding her. The sight of her coming apart on command nearly undoes me.
I follow her over the edge, pressing deep and holding there as I let go, my forehead dropping to hers. I release her wrists and gather her in, both of us breathing hard, tangled and still joined.
Our tangled bodies separate. Cammi turns to face me, looking spent and sated. My heart slips into overdrive at the look of contentment in her eyes. For the first time in a long time, I feel whole.
“You’re beautiful.”
She tucks into me, and for a while we just lie there, her fingers tracing idle shapes on my chest. “Can I ask you something?” she says.
“Anything.”
“How old are you? You never said.” A pause. “You feel…older than the guys I know. In a good way.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Twenty-eight.”
She goes still, doing the math, and I feel her smile against my skin. “I’m eighteen.”
“I know.” I tip her chin up. Ten years. I should care more than I do. “That bother you?”
She shakes her head. “No. I like that you’re steady. That nothing rattles you.” Her cheeks color. “I’ve never felt safe with anyone before. Just you.”
Something in my chest pulls tight. Ten years, all my baggage, and she looks at me like I’m the safe one.
“Then I’ll just have to keep earning it,” I say, and kiss her forehead.
???
It’s been minutes since Cammi left to get ready for work, and all I’m still thinking about is her being in my bed and giving me all of her. My mind drifts to the conversation we had before she left.
“I should go,” she whispers against my chest.
“Why?”
“Because my shift starts soon. Millie convinced Pete, the main manager at the diner, to give me my job back,” she explains. “He’s already said I can come back.”
“Okay, then. I’ll come walk you home when your shift ends,” I say.
“Alright, Daddy,” she whispers, blushing.
My dick surges to attention. “Say that again,” I whisper, leaning in until our lips are nearly touching.
“Daddy.”
I take her lips in a passionate kiss. That word, in her voice, is almost enough to push me over the edge again. If she didn’t know how a single word can affect me, now she does. My blood rushes down to my cock, igniting a deep-seated want.
Cammi breaks the kiss on a loud moan, gasping softly. “I can’t. I have to go,” she pouts.
I let her go, but not with the promise of something more in our eyes. And then she’s gone.
I come back to the present. The room feels different immediately. Colder. Empty. I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly.
“Yeah,” I mutter to myself. “This is bad.”
Because I’m already thinking about her. Already wondering what she’s doing. Already wanting her back here in my bed—in my arms.
I swing my legs off the bed, reaching for my phone. The screen lights up. It’s my brother. I frown slightly.
Then, I pick up the call. “Finally,” he says. “You alive?”
“Barely,” I reply dryly.
He huffs. “Same.” A beat. “Still can’t believe you actually called me last week. Thought you fell off the face of the earth.”
A pause. Then, “I got something for you.”
I lean back slightly. “Yeah?”
“Job. Private security. Good pay. Solid team.”
I go still. “Where?” I ask.
He hesitates. “San Francisco.”
Of course, it is.
“They heard about you,” he continues. “I told them what you did. They want you.”
I drag a hand down my face. “Of course you did.”
“What? You’re good at what you do.”
That’s the problem. “When do they want an answer?” I ask.
“Soon.”
My gaze drifts to the door. Cammi…
“You’d have to move,” he adds.
Yeah. I figured. He’s the only one who knows I’m out. I told him that much last week—that I left, that I’m in California now. Not why. The real reason stays with me. The rest of the family still thinks I’m finishing my contract overseas, and I let them.
Calling him at all was a first. I’d told myself I’d disappear clean, no loose ends. Then a dirty-blond girl with hazel eyes started looking at me like I might be worth something, and I picked up the phone.
“We’d be working together again,” he continues.
That part hits differently. Familiar. Easy. Safe. But then, another thought cuts through. Cammi. I’m lying to myself if I think she has no hold on me. She has crawled into a space in my heart that can’t be erased. She belongs to me. And I, her.
The earlier I accept that, the better. I can’t leave without her.
“You still there?” my brother asks.
“Yeah.”
“So?”
I exhale slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t.”
He hangs up. Silence fills the room again. I stare at the phone for a second. Then toss it onto the bed. San Francisco. New job. A clean break. That’s what I should want. And for the first time, I’m not sure I can.
What if she wants to leave with me?
But what if she doesn’t. I shake my head. If she’d rather stay, then leaving means leaving her—and that doesn’t sit right. Not at all.
“Yeah,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “This just got complicated.”