Chapter 14 #2
“Yep.” She brushed hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” I said quickly. “I was…up. Watching TV.”
Her eyes flicked to the cold tea mug, the abandoned puzzle, the way the couch cushions were all messed up. She wasn’t stupid. She knew. She had to know.
“Oh.” She toed off her boots by the mat. “Well, you didn’t have to wait up. I’m fine.”
“How was it?” I asked, my toner darker, desperate. “How was your date, Em?”
She shrugged, setting her purse on the side table. “It was fine.”
“Did he take care of you? Pay? Make sure you didn’t order anything with onions because they make you sick? Did he walk with you after, so you could digest your food like you prefer?”
“Noah,” she said, frowning and shaking her head. “It was a first date.”
“Yeah, well, if the guy was decent, he’d take notes, make sure he learned everything he could about you.” My face heated, my skin prickling as my blatant jealousy roared its ugly head. I gripped the back of my neck, hating myself for not being able to stop. “Did you kiss him?”
“Does it matter?”
“I want to know, Em.” I had to know.
“Why?” She snorted and moved to the kitchen, turning her back on me. “I’m sure you kiss a plethora of women and don’t brag about it. Not sure how that matters.”
I wasn’t sure what came over me in that moment. Years of pent-up attraction? Years of wanting to be with her? My eyes fucking twitched with unsaid things, and I followed her to the kitchen. “Let me ask you a question.”
“Pretty sure you already did. Oh, you made mac and cheese! Good, I bet Miles liked that.”
“Emily Sanders,” I said, my voice deeper than normal.
I full named her. She stiffened, then slowly turned to face me.
Her eyes widened, and those plump pink lips glistened as they parted.
God, she was so pretty. Everything about her was made specifically for me.
Her perfume was my kryptonite, her laugh my own soundtrack.
“Well, you have my attention now. Say it,” she said, a blush covering her face the longer I stared at her.
I moved my hand to her jaw, cupping her smooth skin and closing my eyes at how warm and soft she was. Then, I dragged my thumb over her bottom lip and groaned. I needed to taste her. I had to. “Ask me, Em, how many women I dated or kissed or slept with our senior year?”
She reared her head back. “Really? That’s what you wanna talk about right now?”
“It is. Ask me,” I demanded, inching closer so our feet touched. I towered over her, and without thinking, I lifted her and placed her on the counter.
Her breath hitched when her butt met the cool countertop, the sound punching straight through me. I bracketed her hips without touching them—close enough to feel the heat radiating off her, close enough that one small lean forward and I’d be able to kiss her.
She looked up at me like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to shove me away or pull me closer.
Her knees brushed the sides of my thighs, accidental or not, and every muscle in my body went tight.
I’d spent years pretending I didn’t notice every little thing she did—how she smelled like vanilla and coffee, how her pulse fluttered in her throat when she got flustered, how her breath always quickened right before she said something honest.
Now all of that was three inches from my mouth.
“Ask me,” I repeated, my voice low enough to vibrate between us.
Her fingers curled nervously against the edge of the counter, but she didn’t move away.
If anything, she leaned in a fraction, like her body made the decision before her brain could protest. The hem of her shirt brushed my wrist, soft cotton catching on my skin, and that tiny point of contact damn near unraveled me.
I wasn’t touching her—not really—but I felt her everywhere. In the quick rise and fall of her chest. In the warm puff of her breath ghosting over my jaw. In the way her gaze kept flicking to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes.
I’d dreamed about her looking at me like this. I’d had whole nights ruined imagining what it would feel like to be close enough to count every one of her eyelashes.
Now I didn’t have to imagine.
Her hands finally lifted, hesitating before they landed on my forearms. When her fingers slid around my sleeves—light, tentative, like she expected me to pull away—my entire heart thudded to a stop. Anything she touched on me came alive.
Her voice came out quieter. “Noah…why does it matter?”
I swallowed hard, leaning in until my forehead nearly touched hers.
“Because,” I whispered. My thumb skimmed her cheekbone, barely there, but she shivered.
“I spent the entire year building up the courage to ask you out. I wasn’t with anyone that whole time.
I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you. That night at the Ferris wheel?
Jesus, Em, it was everything I fucking dreamed about in college, but you weren’t ready.
I was your friend, and you leaned on me, trusted me.
I couldn’t fuck that up, not when you were so upset about your stupid-ass ex and family.
I couldn’t be someone who hurt you, so I stayed in that zone.
And yes, I should’ve called you. I know.
I fucking realize that, but I was nervous.
You never saw me that way in college, so why would you now?
So I hesitated, okay? And then life hit me in the fucking face.
Training camp turned into a trip that turned into a nightmare when my sister died. So why does this matter?”
I laughed, but it was pained. I cupped her face, noting her wide eyes and shock. “Because I’ve been dying tonight thinking about you with some other guy who doesn’t deserve you.”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times. No sound came out. I’d seen Em speechless maybe twice in my life. This made three.
“You…” she finally whispered. “You wanted…me?”
“Yeah, Em.” My voice came out rough. “It’s always been you. How could you not know?”
For one long, suspended second, I thought she was going to shove me away. Tell me I’d read everything wrong. Tell me I’d ruined my chance. Instead, she grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked.
Her mouth crashed into mine so hard our teeth bumped. I grunted, more shocked than hurt, and then my brain shut off completely.
Em. I was kissing Em. My Em.
She tasted so damn good, like mint and whiskey. She made this desperate little sound in the back of her throat, and my knees almost buckled. Her fingers fisted in my shirt, dragging me closer like this was something she’d fantasized about for years too.
“God, Noah,” she breathed against my mouth. “You idiot.”
“Yes, I’ll be your idiot,” I muttered and kissed her back, nipping her lips, feeling how full and soft they were.
Years of holding back hit all at once. There was nothing careful about it, nothing slow. I slid my hands to her hips—finally touching her, actually touching her—and she sucked in a sharp breath. Then she wrapped her legs around my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I swore under my breath, bracing a hand on the counter so I didn’t slam her into the cabinets.
She was everywhere—soft thighs squeezing my sides, fingers in my hair, those little gasps that made my whole body light up.
I curled my other hand around the back of her neck and tilted her closer, deepening the kiss until we were both half chasing, half colliding.
She clung to me like she’d been waiting just as long. Nails scratching lightly at the nape of my neck. Mouth opening under mine, bold and greedy.
“Em,” I groaned, because I didn’t know what else to say, because her name was the only thing my brain still knew.
She smiled against my mouth, breathless. “God, kiss me harder. I need more.”
I laughed into the next kiss, the sound breaking apart when she rolled her hips the slightest bit, and every single nerve ending I had went on high alert. Heat shot straight through me, sharp and dizzying.
“Careful,” I rasped, forehead pressed to hers for a second to breathe. We were both panting like we’d sprinted a hundred yards. “I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
“Good,” she whispered, dragging me back in. “You deserve to suffer.”
I would’ve happily suffered like that for hours. I was already addicted. The way she tasted, the way she fit against me, the way nothing in my life had ever made this much sense.
Tiny footsteps slapped against the hallway floor.
We both froze.
A second later, Miles’s sleepy voice floated in, closer than it should’ve been. “Uncle Noah? I heard talking.”
“Shit,” I breathed, tearing myself away from her like it physically hurt.
Em dropped her legs so fast her heels smacked the cabinet. She winced, hands flying to smooth her hair, her lips swollen and pink, eyes blown wide. I probably didn’t look any better—heart hammering, shirt wrinkled where she’d grabbed it, lungs refusing to work properly.
Miles padded into the kitchen in his Avengers pajamas, hair sticking up on one side, clutching his stuffed dinosaur.
He blinked at us, completely unimpressed, then squinted. “Are we having a snack without me? Not fair.”