Chapter 40 #2
The image that flashes through my mind nearly undoes me. “Your grandmother?—”
“—sleeps like the dead and wears earplugs.” She tugs me toward the stairs. “But if you’d rather go back to your cold, empty house…” She trails off, wrapping her arms around her shoulders so tight, I can almost feel the cold myself.
I follow her, unable to resist. “What happened to the woman who was worried about her grandmother sleeping upstairs?”
“We will be quiet.”
“And what if we are not?” Because I can’t imagine being quiet with Nora. It’s not her. I’d never ask her to be quiet. A woman like her needs to be loud. Everyone needs to hear her scream .
She looks back at me, her expression mockingly serious. “Do you want her to come give you advice?”
Feeling my body nearly shuddering in terror, I laugh. “No, probably not.”
With a quirked brow, she pulls me toward the stairs. “Thought so.”
Her bedroom is on the second floor, at the end of the hall, and she leads me inside, closing the door softly behind us, and I’m instantly met with a scent that follows Nora everywhere. I think she called it patchouli, and I don’t think I’ve smelled anything sexier.
A moon-shaped light fixture in the corner softly illuminates the room which is unmistakably hers.
A mixture of astrology books and romance novels with half-naked dudes on the covers are stacked on both nightstands, a yellow dress hangs on the closet door, and photos of her family are taped to the mirror.
Crystals of different sizes and colors are placed on nearly every surface just like she did at my place.
Two half-burned candles are on one of the nightstands—she probably sleeps on that side of the bed.
Being here feels more intimate than what we might do here. It’s like I’ve been allowed into this sacred place no one has seen. At least I sure as fuck hope so.
She sits on the edge of the bed, watching me. “Second thoughts?”
I shake my head. “No. Just… taking it in.”
“Taking what in?”
“You,” I say honestly. “All of this. I never thought I’d be here.”
She smiles, soft and a little sad. “Me neither.”
“But this place is just so—” I glance around, trying to come up with the right word explaining the level of awe I’m in.
“So crazy?” she whispers.
“So you . ”
“So, crazy.” Her smile is sad. A bit disappointed.
I walk up and kneel in front of her. “In the best way.” She averts her eyes, clearly not believing me.
“Nora.” She’s still looking anywhere but me.
“Nora.” I grab both her hands in mine, and only then does she shift her gaze to me.
“I want your crazy. I don’t think I can live without that crazy at this point. ”
“You can’t?” she whispers.
“No.” I shake my head, reinforcing the statement. “Give me all the crazy.”
“Even full moon rituals?” Her smile is shy.
I nod. “Especially if they’re naked.”
Her smile grows wider. “And sage purges?”
“I think I saw a ghost in my basement this morning.”
She giggles. “We don’t purge ghosts—they might be protecting your house.”
“We will purge the rooster then.”
“He’s the native of the land.”
I laugh full voice. “See? I’ll take all the crazy.” I sit beside her, the bed dipping under our combined weight. “I’m not good at this, Nora, but I’ll try. For you.”
“You keep saying that.” She leans against me. “But I think you’re better than you realize.”
I slip my arm around her waist, drawing her closer. “I’m not.” Saying the next words is much harder than I anticipated. “I haven’t had… many relationships.”
“You have hookups then?”
Swallowing a hard lump in my throat, I shake my head.
Her eyes widen. “What do you have then?”
Lifting up my right hand in the air, I chuckle. Her big eyes move from my hand to my face and back to my hand. When realization settles in, she lets out a small giggle. Then another. A second after, she’s giggling full force. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I accept it with a very uncomfortable smile, but I let this knowledge settle in for her .
Her face suddenly brightens. “So I don’t have to compete with anyone?”
This is what she gathered out of my confession? Mentally shaking my head to this full of wonders woman, I say, “Nora, no one would ever measure up to you.”
Her face is beaming so bright it almost radiates light. “That’s the best pickup line of all time.”
Placing both her hands on either side of my face, she kisses me then, slow and deep, and I let myself get lost in it, in her. I sink into the moment, into the softness of her breath, the insistence of her lips.
The way she tastes is like this tempting combination of acceptance and resistance.
It’s a heady blend that breaks down my defenses until I’m convinced this is the only place I want to be.
We fall back onto the bed, limbs tangling, hands exploring, the world narrowing down to the two of us, and all the chaos in my head finally going quiet.
My hands get greedier. I grab onto every inch of her body I can. Taste everything I can. I want to take myself up on that long ago promise of having her thighs wrapped around my head.
My blood starts boiling. I want to pull her into me. Feel all of her. I’m not sure who’s trembling more, me or her, or if it even matters. All I know is that I want more. Her fingers are in my hair, on my shoulders, pulling me closer, and I can’t tell which of us is losing our minds faster.
But we’re in her bed, with her all-knowing grandmother down the hall, and somehow it cools down my jets.
I know how this goes, how we won’t hear the end of it, how she’ll tell Nora I can’t keep my pants on.
She’s the matriarch of Nora’s family, someone my woman loves and respects, so I can’t let her have a bad opinion about me in any capacity.
My instincts war with each other, the pull to keep going and the urge to stop, desperate for more and terrified of what comes after .
“Fuck this,” I grunt, pushing away. Her mouth goes slack, surprised.
“W-what?” she asks with clouded eyes, lifting herself on her elbows. She looks half dazed or half drunk or some beautiful mixture of both.
“C’mere.” I stretch out my arm to her, waiting for her to grab my hand, and then I pull her up with me.
“What’s happening?” she asks, clearly disoriented by the passion of the moment.
My excitement becomes too obvious to be contained by the loose pants I’m wearing, and I second-guess my choice in clothing. And sure enough, her gaze drops to my lap.
“I see what’s happening,” she giggles, biting her lower lip and making the tent in my sweats impossible to hide. “That’s,” her teeth dig deeper into her flesh, “quite impressive. Are you wearing those for me?”
My laughter is coarse, so is my voice. “I prefer to wear nothing for you.”
“Gray sweats,” she points her finger at the area where all my blood is located right now, “are the second-best thing after wearing nothing.” Her voice turns breathy. “And from now on, you can wear them only for me.”
The possessiveness in her voice makes the tent in my pants nearly painful. “Fuck being quiet. I need you to yell my name when you come.” With that, I grab her, throwing her over my shoulder. She squeals, her fists pounding lightly on my back.
“Jericho! What are you doing?”
“Taking you somewhere we can be loud.”
I carry her down the stairs, each step firm and deliberate, her body bouncing slightly against my shoulder.
My fingers dig into the softness of her thighs, and she wiggles, trying to free herself, so I deliver a light smack to her ass—something I’ve wanted to do since she trespassed on my property on that very first night.
“Be still,” I growl, and her breath catches audibly.
“Jericho,” she whispers, but there’s no protest in it anymore.
I push through the front door, not caring about the cold or the neighbors down the road or anything else. All I care about is getting her to my place, where I can hear every sound she makes without restraint.
The night air hits us both, and she gasps against my back. “It’s freezing!”
“You’ll be warm soon enough.”
I stride across the yard, snow shifting even more aggressively beneath both our weight. Her house recedes behind us, and mine looms ahead, waiting with a welcoming light on the front porch. I fumble with the door, still holding her securely, and kick it shut behind us once we’re inside.
The house is quiet, still. I don’t bother with lights. I know my way through the darkness, up the stairs, to my bedroom. I’ve walked this path hundreds of times, but never with this purpose, never with her in my arms.
When we reach my room, I finally set her down, her body sliding against mine until her feet touch the floor. Her eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I can see them searching my face.
“You kidnapped me,” she says, but there’s a smile in her voice.
“I did.” I cup her face in my hands. “Any complaints?”
“Not yet.” She rises on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine. “But the night is young.”
I back her toward the bed, my hands sliding under her shirt, finding warm skin. She shivers, but not from cold. Her fingers slip beneath the elastic rim of my sweatpants, clumsy in their eagerness.
“What happened to sleeping naked?” I ask, touching every inch of her body I can get my hands on.
“Did you want me to open the door naked?” she giggles .
“That’d be a welcoming sight.”
“I’ll do that the next time,” she promises, rising to nibble on my ear.
The possibilities make me let out a loud groan, and I close my eyes, losing myself to the sensation.
I’ve spent countless nights imagining this, imagining her—beneath me, around me—and actually having her here, in my space, is better than my wildest fantasy.
I turn on the low lamp next to my bed; I want to see all of her.
“Jericho?” she whispers into my neck.
“Mmm?” I ask, trying to hold us both up on our feet.
“We need to move on before I get spooked and change my mind.”