Chapter 22 Noah
Noah
I’m still floating somewhere between disbelief and the shivering thrill of relief, blinking up at Damien in the low light of my bedroom, with his arms around me.
I can’t remember ever wanting anything the way I want this—not just the heat of him or the way he kisses me, but the feeling of finally being chosen.
There’s a quiet that comes after years of wishing for something and believing you’ll never have it.
I’m trapped in that quiet now, so full I could burst, terrified of ruining it and terrified of letting go.
My head is on his chest, ear pressed to his heartbeat, his hands curled in the back of my shirt.
He keeps kissing the top of my head and brushing his thumb along the curve of my neck, every touch gentle, unhurried, as if we have all the time in the world.
It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.
Every time I close my eyes, I see flashes of the pond—gold light, his bare shoulders, the hunger in his eyes, the way I nearly lost myself in the possibility of him. I want more, and that’s the problem. The more I want, the more I realize I have no idea what comes next.
The thought sets my nerves on fire. I can’t quiet them, no matter how many times I tell myself this is Damien, he won’t hurt me, he’d never make me do anything I’m not ready for.
But there’s still a script in my head I never learned, all the steps I never took, and the fear of disappointing him sits heavy in my chest.
He’s done this before. He knows what to do and what to say. I don’t… I never have.
I find myself pulling away a little, enough that the warmth between us becomes a gulf. His hand goes still, and he looks at me, brow furrowing, the open concern in his eyes making my heart beat harder.
“Noah?” he says, voice always so careful. “What’s wrong?”
I force myself to sit up, my pulse skittering and face hot. “Nothing’s wrong,” I say, but my voice wavers, and we both hear it.
Damien sits up too, propping himself on one elbow. He doesn’t touch me, but he doesn’t move away either. He’s watching me as if I might disappear, and it only makes it harder to breathe. “Shit, did I—Did I hurt you? Did I go too fast? Fuck, I didn’t mean—”
“No,” I manage, forcing my voice to steady, or at least not tremble as much as I feel. “It’s not that. I just…” My cheeks are burning, throat tight. “I haven’t—I’ve never done this before.”
He stares at me, confusion evident in his expression. “What do you mean?”
I bite my bottom lip, heat prickling all the way up to my ears. “I mean—” I stammer, mortified. “I’ve never done any of this. I’ve never even—” I gesture vaguely between us, not trusting myself to finish the sentence. “Even the kissing… You’re my first.”
Damien just stares, mouth parted, shock written all over his face. I brace for a reaction: laughter, disbelief, some kind of casual “no way” that’ll make me want to disappear. But he just keeps looking at me.
“Wait… your first?” he finally says, voice soft with disbelief. “You’ve never…?”
“No. Never,” I answer, swallowing hard. “No one else ever interested me. I tried to want it, I even tried to touch myself sometimes, but I just… couldn’t make myself feel it. Not the way everyone else talks about. Not… not until now.”
The look on his face makes me feel like I’m breaking out in hives, and for a second, I’m sure I’ve ruined it. There’s no way he would want someone inexperienced, right? I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I hadn’t said anything.
But then he sits up against the headboard and gestures for me to come closer, pulling me into his lap, until I’m curled against his chest and his arms are wrapped around me again.
There’s nothing urgent or demanding in the way he holds me—just warmth, solid and sure, the way he’s always been with me.
His cheek rests on my hair, and his heartbeat is steady beneath my ear.
“You know what I’m feeling right now?” His voice is quiet, and I shake my head against his chest, terrified of what might come next.
My eyes sting, and I tuck my face into his neck, not quite able to look at him. “I just… I didn’t want to mess anything up,” I whisper. “I’m scared you’d rather want someone who knows what they’re doing, who can just… give you everything without being so awkward.”
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Look at me, Blue.”
I do, even though my instinct is to hide. His brown eyes are soft, open, a little stunned still, but not in the way I feared. There’s no disappointment there. No impatience. Just… awe. His hand slides up to cradle my jaw, thumb stroking my cheek, forcing me to look at him.
“I’ve wanted you for so long; there’s nothing you could do that would make me want you less.
If anything… God, if anything, I want you more than ever.
Knowing I get to be the first to show you how good it can feel?
I’m fucking honored. Don’t ever think I’d trade that for experience or for some bullshit you think you’re supposed to know. ”
I nod, my breath catching, all my doubts unspooling just a little. “You mean that?”
“Yeah. Every damn word,” he says, thumbs stroking over my cheekbones.
“I’ll wait for whatever you want, however you want it.
If you ever want to stop, we stop. If you want to just kiss, or talk, or lie here like this for hours, that’s perfect.
You set the pace, Blue, and if you ever feel lost, just tell me.
I’ll never be mad at you for not knowing what to do.
I just want you to feel good, and safe, and wanted. ”
I tuck myself tighter into his lap, arms wrapping around his waist. “I don’t want to stop,” I whisper. “I want… all of it. But I’m scared I’ll mess up.”
He grins, pressing a kiss to my temple, another to my jaw, trailing down to my shoulder.
“You can’t mess this up. Not with me. I swear to god, every second with you is exactly what I want.
Doesn’t matter if it’s messy, or awkward, or slow as hell.
I just want you however you’ll let me have you.
You’ve always been worth waiting for, you hear me? ”
The relief that floods through me is staggering. My body sags, tension draining from my shoulders, and I let myself lean into him.
“Although…” he trails off, and I sit back, watching a grin form on his face. “There are a few things I still want to try. But I’ll be good, I promise.”
I blush so hard my ears burn. “What kind of things?”
His laugh is wicked but fond. “We can start with more of this,” he murmurs, and kisses me again, but it’s nothing rushed or greedy. When he pulls back, he rests his hand on my cheek, thumb rubbing just beneath my blue eye. “Anytime you want to stop, you say so. You call the shots.”
“Okay,” I whisper, feeling so at ease and safe with the only person I have ever been in love with.
Damien smiles again, and it’s the smile I remember from summer nights years ago when he’d lean over the handlebars of his bike and dare me to race him down to the lake.
I always lost, and I always blamed it on the gravel.
Now he looks at me like he’d lose every race on purpose if it meant I’d smile back at him.
He flips us over so he’s on top again, gaze pinning me in place. “Can I take your shirt off, Blue?” His voice is soft, but there’s a hunger barely leashed beneath it.
He doesn’t move a millimeter as he watches me, and I realize I’m nodding before I know it. My heart is a wild, tripping thing in my chest, pounding so hard it feels as if I’m vibrating with the urge to be brave.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
He kisses me once—just the brush of his mouth over mine, a reassurance and a thank you all in one. His hands slide to the hem of my shirt, fingers curling in the cotton. “You sure?” he asks, checking, waiting, never pushing.
I nod again, a little more sure this time. “I want you to. I want… I want you.”
Damien grins and begins lifting the fabric, his knuckles brushing my skin as he goes.
My breath hitches, nerves lighting up wherever he touches.
But then, halfway up, white-hot panic flares when I remember what I put on after getting back from the pond—the bralette.
I needed comfort, never expecting anyone to see it, let alone him.
I freeze, fingers clamping over the fabric, holding it bunched at my ribs. My ears burn and my heart stutters.
He pauses immediately. “Noah?” His voice is so careful, so gentle, it almost hurts. “Talk to me. Do you want to change your mind? You can, even after you’ve said yes. I won’t be mad, I promise.”
I shake my head, mortified and blinking too fast, everything blurring, and my mouth goes dry. “No, I don’t want to—I just—” The words get stuck. I force myself to breathe. “I forgot—I mean—I didn’t think about what I was wearing—can take it off—”
He stops me, his hand coming to rest over mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over my knuckles. Reluctantly, I meet his gaze. There’s no judgment there, no shock or confusion—just that same open, aching affection.
“If I just caught a glimpse of what I think I did, then I’m gonna need a second to remember how to breathe,” he says, biting back a groan. “Are you wearing lace under this?”
I wait for the punchline to come, for the laughter to shine in his eyes, but… there’s nothing except clear lust in his eyes. I nod, because my voice is somewhere between the back of my throat and whatever dimension embarrassment lives in.
“Fuck,” he sighs, then leans down and kisses me again, deeper this time, gripping my hips with trembling hands. His body is still gentle above me, all solid muscle and careful restraint. He breaks the kiss and breathes against my lips, “Can I see you, Blue?”
I hesitate, heart jackhammering in my chest, but I suck in a breath and will myself to be brave as I let go of the shirt. He lifts it slowly, giving me every chance to change my mind, until the shirt is gone and the bralette is exposed—a soft, powder-blue thing with delicate lace at the band.