7. Kate
Chapter seven
Kate
N oah’s breath is hot against my thigh.
“I want to taste you,” he growls.
I nod, already trembling, fingers tangling in his hair like they belong there, like he does.
He slides my panties down, slow, reverent, and then tosses them aside like they’re in the way of something sacred. He kneels between my legs, and I can feel his hot breath on me. I can’t help but whimper in anticipation, my body shaking with desire.
His mouth is on me in the next breath, tongue licking a molten trail from the base of my slit to the top, circling my clit like he already knows exactly how to break me apart. And he does. God, he does.
A moan rips from my throat, my hips arching up into him.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please…”
He groans against me, the vibration tearing through my core. His hands, those big, rough hands, spread across my thighs to hold me open. Exposed. His.
His hands are on my breasts, teasing, tugging, and tweaking the nipples, his mouth still working me below. He lets out a low growl before pressing his mouth deeper, his tongue darting inside me, hot and wet.
It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before; it sends me tipping over the edge, my hips rising from the bed and pushing further into his face. His hands don’t stop roaming over my breasts, caressing and fondling them as he continues to pleasure me.
I grind my hips into his face, the pleasure building inside of me as I gasp and grasp his head tighter. When I turn my head to see him, he’s staring at me, his eyes dark with desire.
“Keep looking at me like that…” He growls against my clitoris, but for the life of me, I can’t come up with a response.
I can feel myself inching closer and closer to the edge; he seems to sense it, too. His hands come up to focus only on my nipple, brushing against them with the calloused pad of his thumb as he continues to lick and suck at my clit.
I’m so close, my body is so tense, I’m so full and ready that I can barely breathe as I feel the orgasm beginning to build, tightening every muscle in my body….
Ding-dong.
What?
Ding-dong.
The doorbell slams through my dream like a wrecking ball, dragging me out of it just as my orgasm is about to crash over me. I bolt upright, heart hammering thighs clenched and breath ragged.
“Oh my God,” I groan, flopping back into the pillow and covering my face with both hands.
Wait? Pillows? Where did they come from? It takes a while to realize Noah must have brought them, but that isn’t what matters at the moment.
What kind of sick, twisted universe lets a woman get that close and then yanks the dream out from under her like some bad joke?
A small voice scoffs in my head; if you want it so much, why did you stop him?
Another knock, three firm, polite taps this time, makes me mumble incoherent, nothing under my breath as I sit up and yank Noah’s too-big cotton shirt tighter around me.
My legs are still shaky. My skin is flushed.
And let’s be honest—some very real heat is still very much happening between my thighs.
“Coming!” I call out, even though I’m 80% sure my voice cracks like a hormonal teenager’s.
I stumble out of Noah’s couch and trudge barefoot to the front door. I open it with a groggy blink and a breathless, “Hi—?”
And then I freeze.
Because standing on the porch is what might be the most attractive couple I’ve ever seen in real life.
The woman is glowing in that "I’ve got my life together and also probably bake from scratch" way, her honey-brown hair twisted up in a messy bun, one hand gently rocking the baby carrier she’s got slung over one arm.
Next to her is a man who seems like he walked straight off the cover of a military romance novel—broad shoulders, close-cropped dark hair, jaw cut from stone covered in a beard.
His stance screams intimidation, and his eyes flick over me in a sweep that makes me suddenly very aware of my bare legs, wild hair, and the fact that I probably still have dream sweat on my upper lip.
The baby coos softly.
The woman’s eyes widen, but her smile never falters. “Hi! I’m so sorry to barge in like this, but we’re friends of Noah. Is he in? I’m Emily. This is my husband Knox and our little guy Maddox.”
I blink. I try to respond. Words don’t come.
I’m too busy calculating how long I’ve been moaning in my sleep before that bell rings. Did they hear me? Were they standing out there the whole time?!
She cocks her head. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah!” I force out with a quick breath and a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Yes, totally fine. Just… just woke up. Uh. Yes, Noah should be in!”
The baby lets out a squeal-sharp, delighted, like he’s having the time of his life at seven in the morning. I blink, the sound cutting through the fog in my head like a splash of cold water.
Emily’s smile holds steady, but her gaze flickers- just for a breath- down my borrowed and oversized shirt, my bare legs, and then back up to my face, which is probably still wearing the shape of my pillow.
Meanwhile, her husband stands silent beside her, his arms crossed and posture loose in that controlled, intimidating kind of way. He doesn’t say anything, but I swear one eyebrow lifts a hair. Barely. Like he’s clocking everything.
“You sure you're okay?” Emily asks gently, like she’s unsure if I’m hungover, heartbroken, or just halfway to feral.
“Y-yeah!” My voice cracks on the first syllable, high and too bright. I tug at the shirt and try to force a smile through the thrum of heat rising in my cheeks. “Just, uh… startled.”
Her head tilts like she understands, but the glimmer in her eyes says she’s filing this entire scene away for later.
“We were dropping Maddox at preschool,” she adds casually, “and figured we’d check on Noah first. See how things held up.”
Preschool.
The word knocks the wind out of me.
Parker.
My spine snaps straight. Holy ….Parker is starting school today, and somehow, that has totally escaped my mind.
“Do you live here?” Emily asks, brows lifting a touch.
“Sort of.” I wince at my own answer. “I live with my son at the cottage. Noah invited us over because of the storm.”
“He did?” Knox says his first word since arrival.
However, Emily’s smile brightens. “Rachel mentioned you would be moving in. I’ve been hoping we’d meet.”
"Rachel?"
“Oh, you’ll meet her. She handled the leasing for Noah.”
I blink, confused, but before I can ask why that is or why anyone’s been talking about me—
The door swings open behind me.
Noah steps out barefoot, with tousled hair and a sleep-wrinkled shirt that fits him entirely too well for this hour of the morning. His gaze lands on me first, blue eyes lingering, something unreadable flickering in them—something that makes my breath catch.
Then, as quickly as it comes, it vanishes.
“Hey,” he says, voice low and easy, like this whole thing isn’t completely derailing my ability to function. “Didn’t know you guys were dropping by.”
Emily lifts the baby carrier with a grin. “Didn’t want to intrude or interrupt. Just checking in before school drop-off.”
Knox gives him a silent, solid nod, and they exchange one of those looks men do, all weighted subtext and unspoken shorthand. Whatever it means, Noah reads it. Then steps forward, brushing close as he passes me, his arm nearly grazing mine.
“You didn’t interrupt,” he says simply.
Emily arches a brow and gives him a look that says she’s not buying it. “Didn’t we?”
Noah only chuckles, low and warm, and leans down to unbuckle the baby. “C’mere, buddy.”
He lifts Maddox like it’s second nature, like he’s done this a hundred times before.
The baby squeals again, grabbing a fistful of Noah’s shirt.
Noah smiles-really smiles-and presses a kiss to his forehead, his entire posture shifting as he cradles the baby close.
Like he’s anchoring himself that tiny heartbeat.
And for a moment, just a fleeting second, I see it.
The way his eyes soften. The way his mouth tips like something in him is cherishing the moment.
He seems almost like a father. It twists something deep in my ribs and makes my throat tight in a way I can’t explain.
But the expression is gone before I can even name it.
Folded away and buried like it never existed.
“We’re glad you’re okay,” Emily says, watching him closely. “Our power went out for a while, but came back on. We figured it might’ve been worse out here.”
Noah shifts Maddox higher in his arms, but his eyes cut toward me again. “We’re good. I’ll check for damages later.”
The “we” lodges somewhere between surprise and longing, small but undeniable.
Emily’s lips twitch. “I bet.”
Oh, for the love of-
I want the earth to crack open and swallow me whole.
“I should, um-” I blurt, too loud, too fast. “Parker. He starts school today. I’m probably late already.”
Emily smiles knowingly. Knox nods once in quiet goodbye as I move to go inside, but—
I feel it.
Noah’s gaze.
When I glance back, he’s still holding Maddox, still barefoot and rumpled, but his eyes are locked on mine. That same unreadable thing flickering beneath the surface.
“I’ll fix the light before you get back,” he says, voice quieter now. Just for me .
“Okay,” I murmur, the word sticking. “I’ll just get Parker; thank you again.”
I slip back inside, and I find Parker right where we left him—tucked under a quilt and snuggled with Blaze, his little hands tucked under his cheek, breathing slow and steady. I wait until I’m kneeling beside Parker before daring to breathe.
My pulse is racing, wild, and erratic beneath my skin. My thighs are damp, and my body hasn’t quite come down yet.
I’m awake now, fully and undeniably.
Voices float from the porch—Noah’s low, gravelly one and Emily’s easy laughter threaded through it. Something Knox says earns a quiet snort from Noah, and then there’s the creak of the rocking chair and the faint clink of the baby carrier being set down.
I brush a curl off his forehead. “Hey, baby,” I whisper. “Time to wake up.”
He mumbles something about dinosaurs and rolls toward me. I smile and press a kiss to his temple.
By the time I gather our things and slip back out the front door, the porch is empty, and I hear their voices in the kitchen.
The morning air kisses my cheeks as I step out, cool and fresh after the storm, and I hurry Parker across the yard toward the cottage, holding his hand and my breath at the same time.
Back in the cottage, I bathe Parker and get him dressed, fight with his left sock (as usual), pour a quick bowl of cereal, and splash water on my face that does nothing to erase the heat still lingering beneath my skin.
I’m pulling my hair into a messy braid when the doorbell rings.
My pulse stutters.
What if it’s Noah? Not yet. I’m still too shaky for Noah. I don’t want to think about everything that happened yet.
I crack open the door…
And there she is. Emily. Again. This time solo, holding a pie dish in both hands like it’s the key to an unspoken sisterhood.
“Hey,” she says with that bright, open smile. “Sorry to stalk you, but I figured you might like this.”
She holds out the pie. It's still warm. The scent hits me before I can even think—apples, cinnamon, something buttery and sinful.
“Oh,” I say, blinking at her. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to—”
“It’s from Ava’s recipe,” she says, eyes sparkling. “Noah’s favorite. Not that he’d admit it. He acts like he’s above pie- he’s not.”
I laugh as I wonder who Ava is. I can’t help it.
Emily grins. “Anyway, figured I’d give you this too.” She slips a card into my hand—her name, number, and a little note scribbled at the bottom: Call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just pie or a vent session.
A warm blooms inside me.
This is how it feels to be seen and approached. Not because there is something to be gained, but with genuine kindness. No strings. No pressure. Just…warmth.
“Thank you,” I say again, and this time I mean it more deeply. “I really appreciate it.”
“We’re glad you’re here,” Emily says softly. “I know this place can feel small sometimes, but... it grows on you. Fast.”
I nod, holding the warm pie between us, “It already is.”
She flashes one last smile before heading back toward the farmhouse, her boots crunching softly on the gravel path. I watch her go, standing in the open doorway with a pie in my hands and hope in my heart.
Because for the first time ever…
I may have friends with no strings attached.