Chapter Nine
I head home at ten. The neighborhood is quiet, as it usually is on Sunday nights.
There’s an occasional hum from a car on the nearby road and the hoot of an owl perched high in a tree.
Seven or so vehicles are parked on the street, care of the party.
Though one, a dark sedan, is further down the way.
Not that it actually matters. My brain would just rather think about random inconsequential shit as opposed to recent events.
Noah and I exchanged exactly a dozen words during the rest of the night. “Can I get you another drink?” “Is everything okay?” “See you later.”
I don’t need him to hover. But it feels like he was avoiding me and that sucks. Though maybe I’m overthinking it. I really hope I am.
The front door key is in my jeans pocket.
My front porch isn’t a big space. Just a couple of steps, a short wooden bench seat, and a planter full of white daisies.
A small attempt at fitting into the neighborhood and appearing welcoming.
Apart from the light above the door and another inside above the dining table, my house sits alone in darkness.
Logan leaves the party next. Shouting and laughter follow him out the door.
I see him raise his hand in farewell before climbing into a battered old Jeep.
The sedan parked down the street comes to life as I slide the key in the lock.
It cruises past with dark tinted windows.
Which is when Auggie starts scratching at the door from inside.
“I’m coming,” I say, putting myself between him and freedom. “Hi there, my friend. How was your night?”
His butt wiggles and he gives me a big doggy grin as I lock us safely inside.
As for the question about how his night went, the answer would be great, apparently.
What is not so great is the velvet throw pillow he viciously attacked and gutted.
Fluffy balls of filling are spread across the living room floor.
“But I bought you toys,” I say, deeply aggrieved. “Why choose violence?”
Auggie wags his tail in a manner I can only describe as joyous or elated. Hard to be angry with someone who’s so damn happy to see you. Even if he does kill the décor for fun.
I take him out back and wait while he sniffs various places. He eventually settles for peeing on the base of the red maple. One of his favored spots. Then he trots back inside and curls up on his bed in the corner of the living room. Guess he doesn’t want to come up to my room tonight.
It’s good that he feels comfortable and doesn’t need to shadow me. I read a couple of articles on settling in a new dog. How to avoid causing them unnecessary anxiety. A calm and happy dog lives a longer life.
Having another heartbeat in the house has been nice. There’s a small chance I would be devastated if his previous owners showed up now.
When someone knocks on the door, he raises his head to bark exactly once before going back to sleep. I check the security camera on my phone and open the door. We just said good night not five minutes ago. Him being here makes me nervous. Same goes for the heavy frown on his face.
“Noah.”
“We need to talk,” he says in this gravelly voice. “Can I come in?”
I nod and step back.
He closes the door behind him, stares down at me, and says, “This isn’t working for me.”
“You mean being friends with me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
My stomach drops straight through the floor. “Okay.”
“I know this is…it’s not…shit.” His hands curl into fists. Like he’s holding in some big feelings. Something which is definitely going around right now.
Not to be melodramatic, but a dagger through the heart would hurt less. And not some skinny stiletto either. One of those big-ass hunting knives. “Tonight was awkward with Jade, and you have to work with her. It makes sense that you would need to keep that relationship as friendly as possible.”
His brows draw tight together. “Yeah.”
“What I am trying to say is that I understand.”
“You do?”
I nod like a bobblehead doll. “I mean your work culture involves socializing sometimes and obviously—”
“Sid, this has nothing to do with what happened tonight.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No.”
Forget the hunting knife. The man has harpooned me in the heart.
Hearing he doesn’t want to be friends because of me and not the shitty situation that is my life is a whole new hellscape.
As soon as he leaves, I’m going to hurl myself into the nearest abyss and/or suitably deep chasm. Then I am going to messy cry.
He cocks his head. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t want to be friends.”
“No. It’s not working.”
“Right. So that’s what I am talking about.”
He steps closer and says, “You don’t get it.”
This is when I start frowning too. Because I’m not sure how much more I can take without bursting into tears. Something I do not want to happen. Please leave the tatters of my pride.
Which is when he takes my head in his hands and presses his mouth against mine.
Then kisses me. His lips are firm and warm and oh so insistent.
Like nothing else matters. His tongue teases my upper lip, and I open for him.
Of course I do. He tastes of the wine we’ve been drinking.
My body comes alive as my brain spins in dizzy circles.
Having his tongue in my mouth and him holding me tight is heaven.
All of the heat of him pressed up against me.
It’s not what I was expecting, but it’s exactly what I need.
His pupils are blown, his eyes dark as night, when he pulls back.
He licks his lips and smiles at me with hunger enough to make my knees weak.
No one’s ever looked at me the way he does.
And his hands grasp me firmly—like he’s worried I might try to slip away.
Of which there is not a single fucking chance. Not in this lifetime.
“This is what I am talking about,” he says.
“Huh.” I think the situation over for all of a second. “Guess you have to get back to the party.”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“I really don’t want you to.”
“Okay.”
Such a simple thing to reach past him and lock the door.
To take him by the hand and lead him upstairs to my bedroom.
It’s all shadows and moonlight up there.
The perfect setting for what I have in mind.
His cologne smells of sage and salt and it goes straight to my head.
I want his scent on my skin and on my sheets.
To be able to walk into this room and know he’s been here.
“Look at me, Sid.” He stops at the foot of the bed. “We can do as little or as much as you want. I’m in no rush. Just happy to be here.”
It’s a sweet sentiment. But I slip my feet out of my sandals and pull my top over my head.
I can feel his gaze on my lace bra. My fingers are fumbling with the button and zipper of my jeans when he falls to his knees.
He pushes the denim down and helps me step out of them.
Then his big hands grasp my ass and draw me close.
He nuzzles my belly button and the waist of my briefs.
Seems I am not alone with the weird wanting-to-smell-him thing.
Because his face is pressed against me and he’s breathing in deep.
A hand eases between my thighs. Fingertips brushing lightly back and forth over the soaked crotch of my panties.
The man is such a fucking tease. Shame on him.
Being this turned on is burning me up inside.
Both my heart and my lungs are working hard.
To finally be able to touch him is amazing.
I am obsessed with the thick strands of his hair and the smooth skin of his face.
His wide shoulders and strong neck. Never before have I been as fascinated by someone’s body.
I want to climb all over him, to touch and taste. To learn him as well as I know myself.
As he rises to his feet, he grabs the back of his tee and drags it off over his head.
So much beautiful bare skin. I kind of regret not turning on the light.
He toes off his shoes and pulls off his socks and thank fuck we’re finally down to his pants.
His black jeans are soon tossed aside and this is like every birthday present at once.
My hands in his hair and his mouth on mine.
The hard length of his dick pressing against my belly.
He easily has my bra unhooked, straps sliding down my shoulders. Talk about skills. There’s the slight sting of his stubble on my neck. Then the nip of his sharp teeth making me gasp. The way he has me aching and wanting. More and more and more.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
“I want you in me.”
“We can do that.”
“Now.”
His smile is all sharp teeth.
Weird time to be thinking of my grandma.
But I do want to thank her for training me to always have protection on hand.
No matter how improbable an encounter might be.
And it’s been a long ten years. I crawl across the mattress reaching for the bedside table.
And he follows, dragging his tongue up the back of my thigh, sending frissons of pleasure up my spine.
Then his fingers hook in the sides of my underwear and start dragging them down. He lightly bites my ass cheek and whoa.
Giving up having sex with other people never seemed like a big deal. Sex was nice, but I didn’t need it. Having someone so close to me didn’t necessarily appeal. But no one told me it could be like this. What have I been missing all these years?
With a sex-addled brain, it’s a trick to get the box of condoms open. My breath is stuttering and my hands are shaking. I have seen puzzles less complicated than this shit.
“Let me help you,” says Noah, taking it from me.