15. Kate #2
“Kate, I—I don’t want to lose you,” he says, and his voice cracks for a moment, before he steadies it. “I'm messed up, I know.. But I can’t stay away.”
There it is; the admission. A crack in the armor. Finally, something real. It doesn't fix the hurt in my chest-but damn, it makes me feel it deeper.
I want to believe him. I want to let go of the walls I've built, but I can't ignore the voice in my head, the one telling me that this might just be a moment for him. A heat-of-the-moment thing that he doesn’t fully understand.
“I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t been thinking about this,” I say, my voice firm, even though my heart is hammering. “But you need to be honest with me, Noah. I don’t play games.”
I have a son . I don’t say it aloud, though.
His gaze hardens, and for a second, I see the old, familiar wall go up. But then he exhales, deep, like a man who’s finally telling himself the truth.
“I’m scared,” he admits, his voice low, almost embarrassed. “Scared of pushing you away. Scared of not being enough. Of not being the man you deserve. Of losing you.”
The words hang between us, fragile. It’s not what I expected, but it’s enough. It’s enough to make me see him in a new light, raw and uncertain but trying.
My resolve softens, but my chest is tight with a mix of relief and uncertainty. “Noah…”
“I’m not asking for a damn thing, Kate,” he says quickly, his voice raw. “I just need you to know I’m here. I’m here with you.”
The warmth that floods through me is undeniable. My fingers reach for his shirt again, pulling him back toward me.
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying, but I know I want this too,” I whisper. I don't need him to be perfect, not tonight. I need him to be here, with me, and help me understand what’s going on in his head.
I lean in again, brushing my lips against his, and he doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss. His hands roam my body, pulling me closer as he growls in pleasure.
I can feel the electricity between us, the raw power radiating from his muscles. His kiss is intoxicating, and I want more.
He takes control, pinning me against the wall as he kisses my neck, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. My heartbeat races as he hoists me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling him hard against me.
“I need to see you…” He growls against my throat.
I lean into his chest and away from the wall so he has enough access to reach around and unzip my dress. He finally lets my feet touch the ground again so the dress can slip down my body, revealing the matching lingerie I picked up while shopping earlier.
He gives a low whistle, taking in my curves, and I know at that moment that I chose it because of him.
My heart races, and my breathing becomes shallow as his hand slides from my knee up my thigh, causing me to gasp at the warmth of his touch.
His eyes darken at my reaction, shifting to kiss me deeply once more before leaning down to trace his tongue along my collarbone. My hands roam over his muscular back, gripping his shoulders as his fingers dance along my skin.
Suddenly, he pulls away and steps back, holding out his hand for me to follow.
I take it and allow him to lead me to his bedroom. The room is dark, and he doesn’t bother with the switch. The air holds a clean, woodsy trace—like fresh laundry and cedar, with something warmer beneath it, something that’s just him.
He pulls me close, and his hand comes around to unhook the bra and let my breasts ease into their resting state, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I shiver as he allows the bra strap to slide over my shoulder before falling, leaving me in just my panties.
Even in the dark, I can feel the hunger in his fingers, and I can feel the anticipation build between us.
He pushes me back onto the bed gently and spreads my legs.
“You smell heavenly.” I can feel the warmth of his breath on my core, and I let out a soft moan. He teases me, tracing circles with his tongue over my panties.
"I want to taste you," he growls, and I nod eagerly before remembering he probably can’t see me.
He hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and pulls them down my legs, throwing them to the floor. Then, I can feel his hot breath on me again, and I can’t help but whimper, my body shaking with desire.
His tongue traces a path from the top of my slit to the bottom, circling my clitoris in a rhythm that makes me moan louder. He groans before pressing his mouth against me further, his tongue delving deeper inside me.
It’s a sensation unlike any I’ve ever felt before, and I can’t help but squirm, grabbing onto the sheets as I arch my back. I thought the last time he ate me out was heavenly, but this feels a hundred times better.
Noah’s hands roam over my breasts, tugging and pinching my nipples roughly as he continues to tease me with his mouth. I writhe beneath him, the pleasure building inside of me as I gasp and moan.
He pulls away for a moment, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from dragging his head back. "Do you like that?" he asks in a deep voice that sends shivers down my spine.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Don’t stop.” That’s all he needs before returning to his position.
He wraps his mouth around my clitoris, and I can immediately feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. He must have sensed it, too, because he slips a hand down between my legs, plunging two fingers deep inside me as he continues to lick and suck at my clit.
I’m close, so close that I can hardly breathe as I feel the orgasm beginning to build, tightening every muscle in my body.
With a loud cry, I tumble over the edge and shatter beneath his touch, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me, my body spasming with the force of my climax.
Noah continues to finger me, and I know he can feel me tremble, drawing out the pleasure until I can no longer hold on.
“Please…stop,” I gasp. “I need to breathe.”
He raises his head and climbs the bed so he’s beside me, his calloused hands sliding along my waist and up to my breasts, where he cups them gently in his hands.
His hands roam over my curves, pulling me closer, like he needs me against him to keep breathing. The ache between my legs sharpens, and I press into him, craving more.
He leans in, his voice rough at my ear. “You undo me, Katie. Every time. I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”
I kiss him deeply, my hands roaming his chest, mapping the muscle beneath. His erection presses into my hip, hard and urgent, and I want him inside me with a need that borders on desperate.
Without breaking the kiss, I push him back and climb on top of him. His groan vibrates against my lips as I grind down on him—wet, aching, shameless. The friction alone makes me shiver. I drag myself along the hard line of his arousal.
“Fuck,” he growls, his hands clamping around my hips.
He tries to pull me down, but I resist, teasing him with slow, deliberate rolls of my hips. I want to undo him the way he did me. I want him wrecked and begging.
I pull back enough to see his face, his eyes dark and wide, his jaw tight with restraint. I grind against him again, and he groans, the sound low and broken.
"Please, Kate," he rasps. "You’re driving me crazy. I need you."
It’s the second time he’s begged tonight, and somehow, it undoes me all over again. I shift, hear the sharp clink of his belt, and then feel him spring free—thick, hot, and throbbing against my stomach.
I guide him to my entrance, breath hitching as I sink down slowly, inch by inch. My hands stay pressed to his chest, grounding me as he fills me completely.
A sigh escapes me. Relief. Pleasure. Something deeper I don’t want to name.
"You feel so good," I whisper. "So perfect."
"Fuck, Katie," he groans, his hands locking around my hips. "Ride me. Slow. Just like that."
I obey, rolling my hips with purpose, each movement sending sparks up my spine. My breasts brush against his chest as I move, his hands skimming my thighs, setting every nerve alight.
He groans, thrusting up to meet me, our bodies finding a rhythm that feels inevitable. Like this was always going to happen.
He sits up, wrapping his arms around me, his mouth trailing heat along my neck as he moves inside me. I grip his shoulders, fingers threading through his damp hair, and we lose ourselves in the intensity building between us.
"I'm close," he groans, and his voice sounds wrecked, like he’s holding on by a thread.
"Me too," I gasp, and the wave crests fast.
He slams into me with a force that steals my breath, and my climax hits, blinding and sharp. My body arches, trembles, and I cry out, lost in the sensation.
"Don’t stop," I whisper, and he doesn’t.
His fingers dig into my hips as he drives into me, and I feel him swell and pulse inside me as he finds his own release, a raw sound tearing from his throat.
We collapse together, bodies tangled, skin damp, breathless and undone. He wraps his arms around me, holding me close as our heartbeats slow.
"Fuck, that was amazing," he murmurs.
It should feel perfect. But it isn't.
My uncertainty doesn’t fade. If anything, it sharpens.
Because I feel it—the shift. The moment he starts to retreat.
His hands still. His body goes rigid. The warmth between us fading and filling with silence.
Not this time.
I lean over and flick on the bedside lamp. The soft glow cuts through the dark, and he flinches, caught.
Our eyes meet.
"I’m not doing this," I say quietly. "I can’t pretend it’s just physical. If this is going to keep happening, I need to understand."
His jaw clenches. For a second, I think he’ll shut me out.
Then, softer—“No one told you anything...?”
I tilt my head, "What should they have told me?"
His lips part. Something flashes across his face. Pain. Grief. Then the walls slam shut.
"You wouldn’t understand."
And just like that, he’s gone again. Retreating.
I dress in silence, my heart heavy. At the door, I glance back. Hoping.
He doesn’t move.
And I walk out, lonelier than I’ve been in years.