Chapter 17
ALEX
Breathtaking…
That’s how I would describe Noah—with those pretty blue eyes, gold-sparkled lips, and lean, tightly-stretched muscles. That’s Noah, and he’s absolutely breathtaking.
But the Noah who stands before me now—right at this very moment—thighs wrapped around a steel pole in the middle of his bedroom, eyes shut, long lashes resting on the tips of his cheeks as he slowly descends from the pole… that Noah is jaw-dropping, heart-stopping…
Beyond breathtaking.
Sultry notes waft through the air, wrapping the room in heat and utter temptation, as I lean against the door, heart pounding, cock thickening, watching his body slip seamlessly onto the floor.
Slowly, his eyes flutter open, lazy and heavy-lidded. I’m barely holding on by a thread when his smoldering eyes lock onto mine, and I just about melt onto the floor with him. He doesn’t say a word. Honestly, he doesn’t need to. I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
A rush of heat soars through my body as I begin to move, gravity pulling me toward him with a force so strong it’s not even worth fighting.
My veins sizzle with anticipation, and this unexplainable craving that I don’t understand.
Nor do I want to. Not when this feels so right.
I embrace the sensation instead, knowing there’s no turning back…
not when I’m burning with this extreme urge of desire.
“Noah,” I whisper as I reach him, taking a hold of the pole to steady myself because I feel like I might faint.
He slithers off the floor, curling his limbs around the pole as he gently lifts himself back into position.
Teasing the air with a limber leg, he stretches it overhead with effortless grace before gently dropping it onto my shoulder, then letting it fall to my waist.
I tenderly run my hand up the back of his thigh and over the swell of his ass.
His cheek sits perfectly in the center of my palm, and I squeeze his toned flesh, watching those beautiful blue eyes find mine, a quiet storm flickering in their depths, vulnerable, electric…
painfully exposed. Like glimpsing something sacred and broken all at once.
Something that shouldn’t be seen. Something still breathing, but barely alive.
In fact, I’m unsure whether to hold it, heal it, or fall apart with it.
His tongue drags across his lower lip, slow and uncertain.
Cautiously, I lower his leg from my waist, unwrapping his limbs from the pole until we’re standing chest to chest, eye to eye, lips to fucking lips.
“Alex…” He breathes against my mouth, and for heaven’s sake—even his breath is beautiful.
The keycard slips from my fingers, landing on the floor right beside my morals.
“I want to dance with you,” I whisper, and his lips tremble.
God, I’m obsessed with them—how they move, how they hesitate, how they feel like a secret waiting to be told.
“I can’t kiss you, Noah.” I breathe against him, but my lips deceive me and fall to his neck, where I suck on his tender flesh and hear him gasp softly, his breath barely touching the air.
“I can’t kiss you,” I mumble against his dewy skin, licking sweat from the side of his neck and sucking a bruise underneath his earlobe.
“Oooooo…” he moans, the vibration setting my lips on fire.
“I can’t kiss you.” I mouth into his smooth skin, trailing soft kisses across his shivering jawline, lingering near those forbidden lips.
“Alex,” he hisses, dropping his head back, granting me full access to his slender throat.
I sweep my tongue over his Adam’s apple, triggering it to bob and fall against my lower lip. I suck the small curve of his throat between my lips and lick a wet path back up to his chin, savoring the salty taste of his skin.
My eyes fall back to his mouth.
And then… I kiss him.
Softly at first, allowing my lips to glide like a whisper across the corners of his mouth. He exhales as I pull away, warm breath hovering over my lips like a pocket of air. It’s enough to make me lose my fucking mind.
I wish I could name what’s happening—why I’m so goddamn obsessed with this beautiful boy. If there’s something to figure out, I’m circling it without seeing it, lost in the ache of wanting him and wanting to protect him all at once. Maybe he needs shelter, and I’m giving him heat instead.
Hungrily, I part my lips and devour every single one of his breathy pants and airy gasps. His hooded eyes are pretty, lips puckered and plush. I slide my hands up to his face and cup his cheeks in my palms.
“Keep kissing me, angel.” I breathe across those forbidden lips, forgetting every fucking thing in my life, including my sanity.
His eyes sparkle with newly shed tears, and just when I think he’s about to pull away, his tender lips fall across mine, and he kisses me softly.
Softer than any secret ever whispered into my ear.
I close my eyes. “Noah…”
His kiss is delicate, lips spongy and wet. They move leisurely against my mouth, as if committing my lips to memory and savoring their tabooed feel.
I give him a minute to dance around our desire, and then crush my mouth into his, devouring those precious lips, starving for a taste of his tongue, saliva, and tonsils.
His tears puddle between our lips, and he shivers as I run my tongue through every corner of his mouth, slicing his words into choppy moans.
“Oh g-god. O-h-h m-my g-g…oohhmmmyesss…”
My pretty dancer.
I lift him into my arms, heart thudding with every step toward the bed. He feels warm, trusting, too trusting—and it wrecks me. In ways I can’t even comprehend. Because I don’t know if he’s reaching for comfort or trying to rewrite something that already broke him. It just feels… different.
I lay him down gently, like I’m setting down something I was never meant to hold.
“Tell me to stop, Noah. Tell me to stop. Please.”
He kisses me again, clinging to my mouth like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered, dragging me over his body like a blanket—warm and necessary.
It’s so foreign to me. This urgency. This need to keep him close. It’s nothing like Elijah—
Oh my god!
“Noah, stop! I can’t do this. Tell me to stop, goddamn it. Tell me.”
His hands fly to his face, swiping at tears with trembling fists.
I didn’t mean to upset him, but I obviously did… and the second I see him cry, it guts me.
My chest tightens. I can’t think. I just see his shoulders shake and his fingers claw at his face like he’s trying to erase the moment. Why am I feeling like I’m missing something? Like I was supposed to protect him—from the world, from himself, from me.
It feels like I’m watching something precious fall apart in my hands, and all I can do is stare at him, torn between wanting to run and needing to hold him together.
I reach out with shaky hands, gently pulling his away from his face, guiding them down to his sides—to the only place I can anchor him now.
“Shh… I’m sorry, angel,” I whisper, barely able to keep my voice steady as I stare down at his tears. “Don’t hide them from me. They’re too beautiful to hide.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, choking back his utter sadness.
I wince at the pain I swear I can feel seeping out of him like a silent cry trapped behind the weight of his lids.
A single tear escapes, trailing down his cheek. I brush it away with the back of my knuckles, gentle and slow.
What happened to you?
What did the world do to make you want to hide your hurt so quietly?
As my fingers drift along the curve of his face, he lifts his arms from his sides—slow—extending them outward, spreading them wide like wings.
I stare down at him, mesmerized by the beauty beneath me. It’s the most spectacular sight I’ve ever seen—holy and wrecked, soft and unguarded.
His lashes rise from tear-steaked cheeks, and for a moment, all I can do is sit in awe of his submission—his vulnerability on full display.
“Alex,” he whispers.
His pupils are blown so wide they obliterate the blue, leaving behind a void so black it’s haunting. His tears are gone, evaporated not by heat, but by trust.
And I can barely breathe.
Because I realize what I’m seeing—a window to his soul. He’s allowing me to see him. All of him. It’s so heartbreakingly disturbing. I don’t know if I’m witnessing beauty or tragedy—or both.
And it scares the fuck out of me.
“Jesus. Noah…” I run my hands along the sides of his neck and then lift my body off his, feeling a slight tremor roll through my bones.
“You’re touching me,” he pants out, looking up at me. “Don’t stop touching me, Alex. Please. Don’t ever stop touching me.”
Fucking hell.
I slide down his body and press my lips to his slender waist, running my palm down the side of his hip. Elijah’s face sits in the back of my mind, barely visible, trying to push through the fog of conflicting desires I don’t understand. I never realized how thick and claustrophobic fog can be.
“Ooooo…” he moans, fingers slipping into my hair. The scent of sweat and musk fills my nostrils as I inhale his skin like I’m snorting a line of coke.
“Oh my god,” he cries, jerking his hips, spreading his legs.
And then he holds my head still. Fingers pulling at the roots of my hair.
I look up from the waistline of his spandex shorts.
“You need to stop,” he finally says, turning his head to the side and slapping a palm against his thigh.
My hand slips down to his, and I scoot more to my side, confused by the sudden shift in his energy. There’s a stillness to him now—like the calm before something breaks.
I follow his gaze down to his legs, and when I lift our joined hands, my breath catches.
Droplets of rainbow-colored ink run like tears down the length of his leg—unexpected, delicate, surreal.
The tattoo coils violently around his thigh, spiraling like a tornado tangled in rain. A storm etched in ink. It twists with chaotic grace, winding down his leg in streaks of color and shadow until it finally reaches his ankle—where it fades to black like a memory too painful to finish.