Your Biggest Fan

35. NOAH

Chapter thirty-five

If music was a battlefield, then my heart was ground zero, and Roxanne was a fucking Stradivarius.

I stumbled home, a wreck of a man, barely human. Collapsed on my bed like a puppet with cut strings. Jacket, shoes, belt, the whole nine yards—all still on. Why bother removing them? I was already knee-deep in self-loathing, might as well get comfortable.

Not like I had a choice when my only other option would be to pace around my room, waiting to kick myself in the nuts for being a dick-driven idiot who just had to push things with his friend.

Sleep came and went all weekend, aided by the copious amounts of weed I burned through my system. Now fourth period is almost over, and I’m sitting underneath the bleachers in the dead gym, gritting my teeth and hunched over as I lean my elbows against my knees, watching my untouched cigarette collect burning ash at the tip between my fingers.

My skull’s about to split open, obsessive thoughts starting to pour in.

Had I been too aggressive? Slamming Roxanne against the wall like some caveman doesn't exactly scream “gentleman of the year.” It's more “guy who learned about romance from watching wrestling and porn simultaneously.” I was just so drunk on her that I forgot how to be polite, because… whoa .

Have I replayed that moment in my head approximately 17,000 times this weekend? No fucking shit.

Especially when she sunk her nails into my chest, then ripped her leggings like they were nothing. Holy hell . I wanted to marry her on the spot.

My body and mind remember it all—the sweat sparkling off her skin, the thrumming around my fingers getting warmer and warmer, the slide of her lip between my teeth nearly undoing me.

My attraction to Roxanne? That ship set sail, circled the globe, and docked permanently in my heart ages ago. She’s that same feeling I get when I walk down the bread aisle of a grocery store and smell all of it—comforting, irresistible, and makes me forget why I’m there in the first place. Can’t even remember why I’m doing this band stuff anymore.

I don’t care about being under the spotlight, I only care about her being under mine.

I crave her dimples, crave her laugh. Post-practice smoke sessions with her and Daniel proved that. But there’s a pesky little thing I keep feeling that has my nerves on edge, the thing that made me skip first period English.

It was the way she looked at me after we had finished. Embarrassment, regret, disgust? Did I nuke our friendship because I couldn’t keep it in my pants?

Way to go, fuckwit. You thought with your dick and ruined everything.

I’m such a pussy. I hate myself for fleeing like a fucking criminal once she was safely delivered home—what kind of spineless shit is that? I spent the whole drive to her house psyching myself up to make my tired tongue speak words.

But everything's different now.

This is Roxanne. My best friend. The girl who knows all my shit and sticks around anyway. This situation calls for a different approach than my usual hookup protocol, if only I knew what that was. What could I have said that night?

Oh, hey, hope that was good for you. Let me know if you want to do it again, maybe?

Lame as shit.

Uh, hi, I like… you?

Even lamer.

Be my girlfriend.

LAMEST.

Yeah, running away wasn't my finest moment, but cut me some slack. My brain had been dribbling out of my ears since that bathroom stall.

What am I doing now? I’m hiding here on the floor like a gutless worm.

Fuck. I need to talk to Daniel, but I can’t talk to Daniel. What happened was private, and private matters demand discretion.

Sweat rolls down my neck as I make no move to get up, anxiously running my hand through my hair for the twentieth time. I’ve never had a girl get me so stuck in my own head for over 24 hours, to the point where I’m too scared to see her because she might not look at me the same. Worried that the connection I felt might have been all in my imagination.

What if she sees right through me like I’m invisible?

I don’t think I can take that kind of rejection from the first girl I’ve ever really liked. Even Wendy’s use stung, but what I felt for her was nothing like this. This is… consuming.

Everywhere I go, everything I see reminds me of Roxanne in some way. Something as simple as a plaid flannel shirt in a store window is enough to make my chest tighten.

Roxanne is everywhere.

Pepsi? Forget about it. I can’t touch the stuff without thinking of her fingers struggling to get underneath the tab of the can.

Finally sucking in a drag of my neglected cigarette, the toe of my sneaker taps up and down like I’m revving to bolt. Which is exactly what I want to do—run away from all these feelings and questions. Avoid her sweet face until I don’t feel so terrified of what I might see there. Or might not see.

I can’t duck her forever, and I don’t want to lose this—lose her. I gotta screw my courage and trust she won’t shred me. And if my worst fears come true? I’ll deal. Somehow.

The bell ringing throughout the gym pulls me out of my thoughts, locker doors starting to slam open and shut down the hall as everyone flocks to the cafeteria.

With a deep breath, I steel my nerves and crawl out of my bleacher cave.

It’s lunch time, which means it’s go time.

Exhaling slowly, I grind the cigarette into the sole of my shoe and flick it into the trash bin. I rake my fingers down the top of my head, preparing myself for whatever the hell lay ahead, and slip on my headphones, queuing up I Want You to Rock Me —a song on some mixtape Roxanne gave me to listen to.

I’ve noticed she’s really into any and all girl rock stars. I’m hoping these rock anthems might inject me with some girl power courage.

Hitching my backpack higher, I meet my reflection’s eyes in the gym door window.

Just another day ruling the halls of good ole BP High. Nothing more. Not your fate with a girl on the line.

“You’re Noah fucking Jackson,” I mutter pathetically under my breath. I shove open the door as the first guitar riff hits, blowing a lock of hair out of my left eye and trying to let the song psych me up and move me to the cafeteria.

It’s got to be the longest walk of my life. My feet are encased in cement instead of my Chucks as I force one foot in front of the other down this endless hall of checkered floors.

My palms dampen the straps of my backpack whenever I hang a right and push through the double doors, pausing to eye down every single person in the room. I spot Roxanne at a table near the edge of the cafeteria.

Her two friends start slamming their lunch boxes down on the table, already involved in a heated argument, gesticulating with pretzels while Roxanne sits across from them, one leg tucked under her as she doodles on her drumstick.

Her arms are bare in a denim vest. A corner of my lip rises because she’s always wearing shorts or t-shirts when it’s thirty degrees outside. I think she’s determined to enjoy every rare glimpse of sunshine on her skin even if it is fucking freezing.

That dark hair of hers falls down her back, and she’s got her tongue poking out between her brown lips, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Goddamn .

I am a dead man.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Daniel skating up the aisle between the tables. He pops his board up and sandwiches Stephanie between himself and Tyler. The three of them now dive deep into their usual loud conversation.

That’s my cue. Now that her friends are occupied, I can test her reaction without everyone else chiming in.

My feet carry me quickly and my heart pounds as I wipe my palms on my jeans. The first step towards her table still feels like I’m slogging through wet cement.

One step, then another.

My legs turn to jelly with each step that closes the space between us.

Thirty feet … twenty feet … ten…

I brace myself as I step up behind her, knowing that in a matter of seconds, she’s going to look up and our eyes will meet. Or worse, she’ll look up and I’ll burn up on the spot, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes and regret.

Normal, normal, normal. She’s probably more scared of you than you are of her.

Except she’s not a snake.

And I’m petrified .

My mouth goes bone-dry as I take those last few steps, my tongue darting out to lick my parched lips. I need to steal a sip of her Pepsi if I’m going to get any words out.

Please don’t look at me like I’m a stranger. Like I’m some asshole who used you.

God, it’s so hot in here, sweat definitely soaking through my jacket and into my backpack. Lovely .

Fucking hell. I’m usually so suave, so in control. But with her...

I’m floundering.

Heart in my mouth, I swing my leg over the bench next to Roxanne, sliding my headphones around my neck. The movement catches her attention quick, emerald eyes lifting to meet mine as her head turns. I swear a spark moves between us, invisible but felt. Like the first ripple in still waters when you toss a pebble into it.

Her full lips part slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners as she takes me in, and wow, does it feel like winning the lottery being the sole focus of her gaze after spending what seems like centuries in the wilderness of my mind.

Uh, hi, I like… you.

I’m scrambling to pull some smooth-as-fuck line out of my ass, hating myself even more for not rehearsing this moment better. As the seconds of silence tick by, I realize no preparation could have readied me for sitting here with her, our knees nearly touching under the table.

Be my girlfriend.

This is a new personal record of how long I have spent sitting at their table without bulldozing my way next to her. I’m too busy floating, lost in her eyes with my tongue two sizes too big for my mouth.

The next move has to be hers.

Just be mine.

“Shut up!” I hear Tyler spurt out quickly, cutting through the invisible water clogged in my ears. He leans into the table, resting his elbows against the wood, his clasped hands propping up his chin as he eyes me with a smile that puts me right back on edge.

“So, Noah.” He blinks at me. “We were just talking about all of us going to formal together.”

I rub the back of my sweaty neck, memories flashing through my mind all over again—the way her nose fits right into the hollow notch at the base of my throat.

Act normal dipshit .

I remember how to human and swallow, unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, Noah . What do you think?“ Stephanie slurps the last drops of chocolate milk from her carton. The way she says my name still makes me laugh. As if I’m some sort of exotic creature they’ve found in their backyard.

My eyes dart to Roxanne, wanting to see how she feels about all this.

A deep red paints her cheeks that she tries to hide behind a palm, but it’s too late. I’ve seen it, and now I can’t unsee it. Her legs are crossed tightly under the table as her eyes dance between me and her friends, looking way too fucking giddy to be the cold girl with a stick up her cute little ass.

Maybe I wasn’t delusional after all.

She peeks up at me through her lashes, lips curving into a smile so shy yet so goddamn devastating. Metal gods help me . Even if I don’t know what her friends are plotting, the chance to take Roxanne to formal makes my skin pump.

A chance to have her near, give her the dream experience she deserves… Sign me the hell up. I’ll move heaven and raise hell to make it perfect for her.

My fucking date.

“I’m sure I can spare a night,” I manage to get out, grateful my voice doesn’t crack.

Stephanie and Tyler exchange a loaded glance.

“Oh, Noah, Noah, Noah. You can spare a lot more than a night.” Stephanie purses her lips, setting her empty container onto the table with a hollow thunk.

“A lot more? How much more?” I quirk a brow, very afraid of what she might be implying. Surely she isn’t expecting me to fund some wild after party, or rent out a stretch limousine for them to all stick their heads out of.

She drums her hot pink nails on the table. “Oh, nothing! Do not read into that. I was imagining us... us all, dancing and stuff. And, like, drinking spiked punch. I wasn’t imagining anything else. Definitely not.”

“Yeah, okay.” I turn back to the angel next to me, the one currently trying to vanish behind her hair.

God, to feel her next to me again. It makes me want to bite my knuckles off just to have something to do with my mouth besides imagining all the places I want to put it.

“I think that’s a yes then,” Tyler pipes up.

“Yeah. Sure, a group sounds cool,” I reply with a wink, praying my rising nerves aren’t showing all over my face. Because Roxanne’s knee accidentally brushed against mine under the table, and I swear to god, I felt it in my soul.

I nudge her knee back with mine. “I guess it’s a good thing Roxanne has had her dance lessons then.”

“Oh yeah! How was Cat Skull? Is Jamie’s face covered in steel yet?” Daniel asks.

I’d taken Daniel to the place a few times over the summer, and every time we saw our favorite bartender, he always seemed to have put some new metal in his face.

“Nah, but he did have a new lip ring this time, I think. I don’t know though…” I clear my throat and turn to Roxanne, brushing her knee with the edge of my pinky, testing the waters. Thrilled when she doesn’t pull away. “What did you think of it?”

“It was good,” her voice cracks. I grin.

“Just good?” I press, leaning in closer.

I catch the faintest whiff of her warm perfume, smelling like apples today. Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips and my tongue does the exact same thing before I can stop it.

“Just good,” she says again, and I slide my fingers along her knee.

“Only good?”

“Only good,” she taunts, those words so fucking slow and tempting. I nearly forget about the three pairs of eyes staring at us. “I’m a hard woman to impress, Noah.”

Oh, it is so fucking on.

I nod and look back at Daniel. “It started to rain on us on the way back, though.”

“Oh shit, and did you guys take the dominator?”

My fingers give her lower thigh a good squeeze. “Yeah. We got soaked.”

The soft whimper to my right makes my dick instantly stand at attention, and I squeeze her thigh again, chasing that sound. It’s a different kind of torture, this secret flirting. A silent conversation happening right under everyone’s noses and no one suspects a thing.

Glancing over at her as I pretend to act innocent, her fist curls her napkin as she bites her lip and kicks my foot underneath the table. I want to feel her squirm on the bench as she admits that yes, she did.

“I think the rain caught both of us off guard,” she adds, handling it with grace despite the secret path my fingertips are tracing along the denim covering her skin. “But we weren’t too far from town before we got completely drenched.”

I almost laugh.

Tyler lets out a low whistle. “Wow, sounds like quite an adventurous night for you two.”

My fingers squeeze her thigh once more before I fold my hands on top of the table like a good little boy. She looks tense now that I’ve pulled away, and judging from her thighs pressing tight together, there’s no fucking way the muscle between her leg isn’t drenched and tensing up.

She’s turned on, and fuck if it doesn’t do the same to me. I want to do more than touch her knee. I want her.

And because I can’t help myself from teasing, I add, “Yeah, definitely one to remember.”

She flashes me a smile, lowering her eyes to the apple she’s turning over in her hands. Her slender fingers caress the shiny red skin, and I’m starting to wish those hands were caressing me instead. Leaving more half-crescent moon marks into my chest that I could tattoo on me to keep forever.

“Well, if you’ll all excuse me, I need to meet with Principal P again.” I toss a quick smile to the three across from us, then reach down to grab my backpack off the floor and, as I start to straighten, lean in right behind Roxanne’s hair. “Meet me in the hall in five minutes.”

Before she can sass me or tell me to go to hell, I climb out of my seat and walk away. I even dodge Chris’ usual high fives and fist bumps as he passes by me. I’ve got a one-track mind.

Roxanne. Hallway. Five minutes.

It’s the longest five minutes of my life when I slip into the janitor’s closet between a row of lockers, the tiny room reeking like Pine-sol. Every ten seconds I crack the door open to peek into the hallway, empty for the most part except for gum wrappers.

Those fuzzy feelings in my gut get worse when the cafeteria doors slam shut, and I hold my breath as a shadow starts to stretch across the checkered floors.

“Noah?” Roxanne calls, her head turning side to side.

I don’t say anything as she gets closer, watching her start to scowl when she doesn’t see me anywhere. Just as her silhouette fills up the crack, I lunge out, grabbing her arm, and yank her into the room with me.

“What the hell?” she pants, clutching her fingers into my shirt. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Roxanne,” I whisper, my smile as dark as the room, backing her in as I close the door with my foot. “I’m starving .”

The closet plunges into darkness, but I can still make out the glimmer of her wide eyes.

“Wow,” she says through breathless laughter. “This is a pretty dramatic way to say you need my help getting you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry for that,” I growl with so much want. The want to press her against me. The want to put my hands on her denim vest and open up what’s hiding her.

I walk her backwards until her back presses into the rack of cleaning supplies, and my hands fly to the shelf on either side of her.

Her fingers flex against my pecs. “Are you saying you want a different kind of feast?”

“I think you know exactly what kind I’m after.” My hands tighten, fingers digging into the plastic as I breathe, lips brushing her ear. “I’m starved for you.”

She moves fast, slipping her hands under my t-shirt, her thumb swiping across my lower stomach. My muscles contract at her cold touch, now even more sure of what I want.

“We don’t have time for that,” she whispers. “We’re in a closet. In school.”

“I don’t care if we’re in a closet, in school, or on the moon. I want you. Now.”

None of it matters—the where, the when.

“Ooh, you can’t wait? You sound eager,” she teases, her voice a melody that dances around the pulsing beat of my heart.

“Eager? Absolutely.”

There’s no hiding it, not with the way her breath plays hopscotch in the tiny gap between us, matching the erratic rhythm of mine. You see, while Roxanne can flirt and shit on me all day, it’s when she’s genuinely turned on by me that it puts this tiny disco ball on high spinning speed inside of my chest. And I want her in my hands now.

“Yeah, well, you aren’t going to get what you want quite yet.” She traces her fingers up my chest, pushing me back slightly before pressing against me. “But you’re gonna be waiting a lot longer if you don’t kiss me right now.”

Time stops.

I plunge right into the kiss, our lips crashing together in a storm of need and urgency. I mold my body to hers, letting her feel exactly what she does to me, and her leg curls around my calf, anchoring her to me as if we could somehow get closer than this.

My hands skim down her sides to grip her hips, and I rock into her, desperate for her friction, for more, for everything .

Her breath, so hot and fucking fast, fills my mouth while her tongue explores mine, still as sweet as the cherry soda she drinks. Her fingers run through my hair before she yanks me closer by my jacket, and I start to slider under her tank top, needing to touch her skin.

“Fuck, Roxanne,” I pant, fingertips brushing over her smooth, tight stomach. “You’re killing me here.”

She bites at my bottom lip, soothing the sting with her tongue. “Seems like you’re still very much alive and kicking.”

I cup her breast over the lace, savoring how it fills my palm perfectly. The underwire of her bra presses against my wrist as I explore, my thumb tracing the swell of her flesh. I can feel her nipple hardening against my touch, pebbled and straining so hard against the fabric it's begging for attention.

“What color are you hiding under here?” I ask, my fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the lace. “Let me guess... black? Blood red?”

“Blue,” she exhales back. “Deep. Dark Blue.”

The image plants itself into my brain and I can't resist exploring further. My hand slides from her breast, fingers splaying wide across her chest. The pounding of her heart beats against my palm, and my attention shifts to the neglected side, rolling her nipple between my forefinger and thumb. Both deserve the same amount of love.

“I need to see it.” My fingers reach for her lips and pull on the bottom one. “I need it off you.”

“Make me want to show you,” she teases, nipping at my thumb.

I laugh, my hand sliding down to her thigh, hiking it higher around my hip. No space left between us. “Do not fucking tease me when I'm like this.”

She stares up at me, her pupils so deep like a pond, and the longer I look back, my heart pumps harder in my throat.

“I'm the one setting the rules here, and I've got no problem teasing you for the duration of this entire school year if you don't start begging for it.”

I groan, kissing a path down her neck after looking at her shitty smile. Who’d have thought this tiny package could contain such a big mouth and attitude? It’s golden. I adore her.

“Fuck. You’re so mean,” I murmur between kisses, tracing the curve of her thigh. “But you’re also just so good looking. Intoxicating. Marry me.”

Her head tilts back to give me easier access, threading her fingers through my hair. “I’m so much more than mean.”

“There is just something about you.”

As I pinch the sensitive skin of her neck between my teeth, she fists her fingers tighter against my scalp. I hiss as she whispers, “I’m pretty cruel. I can be evil.”

“I think you are authorized to give injections of the sweetest pain.” It’s a joke, but feels entirely true as my dick goes rock fucking solid. “Like, please hurt me.”

“I could be your worst nightmare.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” My lips move underneath her ear, slow and deep. “Do those things to me.”

“You’re asking me to ruin you?”

“Yeah, wreck me. Ruin my life and end my existence,” I half-moan, half-groan, slipping my fingers into the back of her jean pockets, pulling her closer. If that’s even possible. “I’d let you torture me. That’s how I feel.”

She digs her nails into the back of my neck, hard enough to draw blood if she wanted. “Then beg for it.”

I breathe in deep, feeling every bit of the power in her voice behind my zipper. She looks— sounds —so hot when she knows I’m weak for her.

I grin right against her skin. “I want you to hurt me as much as you pretend to hate me.”

A giggle. “That’s it? Can’t even say the word please ? Did you forget your manners?” She lifts my face up by my hair for a kiss that starts out so sweet but shifts into something more urgent, pressing our hips harder together with that thigh still wrapped around me. “Give it another try.”

My eyes slam shut, lost in everything that is Roxanne Wishmore. Speaking becomes this impossible task when all I want is to feel her, hear her, have her close. Everything about her.

The way she moves against me, the sound of her voice in my ear, the slight shake in her grip, her relentless teasing…

A small growl comes out of my mouth when she ups the ante and grinds against me.

Begging? Oh, I’m there, have been, will be. Over and over.

Forever, if she commanded it.

My grip on reality—on the shelf—tightens. “Please. Please ruin me.”

“If you insist.” She flashes that little grin, pushes me with a flick of her wrist, and deftly slips her hands underneath my jacket at my shoulders, sliding it off me. Both of us let it drop to the floor as her fingers sneak between my skin and white t-shirt. “Looks like this has gotta go too.”

The breath in my lungs shake as her fingers curl around the hem, hot to the touch as she gradually hikes my shirt upwards until she’s peeling it off of me and discarding it into the growing pile of our lovesick hormones.

“Turn around.”

Yes ma’am.

Cold air hits my pounding chest as I comply. I have no idea what’s coming next, but I can’t fucking wait to find out.

“I hope you know what you’re asking for,” she says, so sure of herself.

Staying just out of sight, she glides her finger from my shoulder blade to the other, tracing down my spine until she reaches the dip of my lower back. Her body heat moves in close, and I can feel the tickle of her hair against my skin as she leans forward, and then the prick of teeth as she gently bites my shoulder.

“Do you want to feel that?” Her breath fans over the spot she’s marked, making my stomach twitch.

Hell yes.

A groan shakes my throat when the feeling of her teeth scraping along my skin hits my senses again. Fuck, I want to shift my shoulders back to get more of it.

“Yeah.” My head is nodding, and my whole body is screaming for more. “Yeah, I do.”

It’s the ultimate test of restraint for me to stay fucking still and not palm at my jeans, even if I’m anxious for what comes next. I’ll enjoy it all the more if I stay put.

If I be good .

“You would think that a rock star like yourself could wait a long time before your next cue, but that is not the case.” Her fingernails draw across the back of my hip, and I shut my eyes. “I wonder how long you can stay still while I play with this pretty body…”

My bottom lip is caught between my teeth as she continues her exquisite torture and nibbles at my shoulder again. I try to lean into the contact, wondering how she can create such an intense reaction from her fucking teeth.

This was the Little Miss Vampire I knew.

My own sink deeper into my lip as I try to edge closer to her, wanting the vibrations in that space between us to disappear. Wanting to be close to her .

“You can try to get closer,” she taunts, easing off of me. “But you won’t reach me.”

The pads of her fingers go for the base of my throat, gliding down to the hollow of my collarbones, tracing a path back to my shoulder, then wandering down and around my waist. The dark blue polish on her nails probably matches her bra, and it amazes me I have yet to spin around, grab her by the waist, and press her into the shelf until we break it.

“And how are you so sure of that?” I challenge, looking over my shoulder at her.

Her answering smile is similar to a raccoon stealing trash, nails still leaving trails of burning embers along my skin. “Because I haven’t told you that you can.”

I laugh at that, my breath starting to come out in short, rapid bursts while she drags her sharp nails along my skin, always keeping her body an inch away from touching me.

“And because I know you’ll do anything for me. Because I know you’ll be good and wait. Because I know you’re going to want me so bad that you’ll be on your knees.” She bites her bottom lip and reaches up on tiptoes, sighing through her next word: “ Again .”

Blood whooshes in my ears like ocean waves contained in seashells, and I lick my lips in anticipation for whatever she’s about to do next to have me on my knees for it.

She can shred me to unrecognizable filth if she wants. I’m already to the point where I’m fucking panting for it.

She dips her head down and scrapes her teeth at my shoulder again, never breaking eye contact from behind. I suck in a sharp breath through my nose, and something in me begins to un-fucking-wind.

I’ve never had a girl take charge like this before—telling me what to do and making me wait for it. All bark and bite.

My face burns so hot as her lips work their magic, the sting fading from her kisses until her teeth sink into a new patch of skin. My eyes shut, and her grin widens against me, her cheeks full, and dimples carving canyons into my shoulder.

Once her mouth leaves me, I bite my lip harder to keep myself together, but I don’t feel her lips go back. Unexpectedly, her hand traces down my ribs, gliding to the edge of my jeans. Her thumb digs underneath the band, sliding slowly like she’s taking in the feel of my skin against her thumbnail.

She stops when she reaches the front of my hip bone, and my eyes snap open when I hear the metal of my belt buckle getting tugged open.

My eyes round. Her chest presses into my back while her other hand comes around, pulling the leather out of the silver buckle, and letting it hang there.

My voice is breathy as I whisper, “Roxanne,” and my hand tightens into a fist at my side.

A glance behind me to see she’s smiling up at me. “You look like you are about to explode.”

No shit.

My chest heaves up and down, the words all caught in my throat thinking about it.

Her hands pull back and sink into my hips as she stands on her toes, getting closer to the side of my face. “Is it killing you, seeing what I’m about to do to you?”

Her attitude makes me even more desperate.

Yeah, I definitely want to beg. Let her hold the power over me that I want her to have, but my mouth stays shut.

I can’t move a muscle because one of her hands drops lower, going straight for my zipper.

Another kiss on the shoulder, dragging it down.

And down .

Oh god, oh god, oh god. I want her to kill me right here. Let me die in a beautiful way.

“Does it feel good?” she asks so softly.

Feel good? She isn’t even touching me and I’m going to boil over at this rate.

My gaze is back down to her hands on my jeans, all these months of pent up energy about her finally being released as she pops the top button open.

Vocal cords? MIA. Only way I know I’m still among the living is because of my brain still rushing those sweet emotions throughout the neurons in my body.

It’s a full body experience: tingles racing down to my fingertips, down to my legs which feel like a mix of jelly and spring, ready to either collapse onto the mop buckets or propel me into a fucking fist pump in the sky. And then there’s my spine, sending sparkles that have me wondering if I’ve suddenly developed the ability to communicate with the stars.

I swallow, my breath hitching in my throat. “Anything you do feels amazing.”

“Do you really think so?” she breathes into my ear, her hand lingering long enough to leave me aching. “Because I know just how much it hurts.”

Her touch retreats instantly, and I picture the way I was looking like a complete fuck-nut while she stood there, teasing me the whole time with no intention of going further.

An eternity later, after me half-contemplating if I should actually claw at the walls, I catch her crossing her arms, leaning against the shelf as she laughs at what is surely the face you’d see on the cover of a Blue Balls magazine.

“Oh, don’t pull that move.” I bite my tongue to stop any noise from falling out of my mouth. “You are cruel.”

“I did warn you,” she smirks. “I also told you that we really don’t have time for this kind of thing.”

“Make time.” I spin around, my eyes locked on hers, and breath glued to my words. “You’re playing with me. You know I want you. I don’t know why or what you’re making me wait for.”

She shakes her head at me, chuckling. “Maybe I just hate you.”

“You may hate me, but I know that you want me, too.” I let the words sink as I lean in, my right hand going up to the shelf again as I wait for her to do something.

My eyes run all over her body, head to toe, and there is no logical reason for us to not be going at it right now. The door is locked, the bell won’t ring for at least another ten minutes. What is she waiting for?

She tilts her head, says so sweetly, “Do I? You just gotta beg for me, Noah.”

I shoot her my own dark, cruel look.

“Not happening. I’ve been patient and played by your rules. I’ve begged. I’ve been a good boy.” My thumb and index finger slide around the button of her pants this time, slipping it out of its snug hole. “But now… now you let me play for a minute.”

“You’re trouble.”

My fingers lightly grasp the zipper before inching it down, the sound of metal teeth parting filling the closet little by little. “The best kind of trouble. I only want to get into it with you”

She leans her head back against the shelf, whimpering as I kiss my way along her throat, sucking and licking at her in intermittent places. Even her skin tastes like apples.

My eyes slip shut as I feel the deep hum in her chest, and my thumbs slip inside her pants, sliding the jeans down her hips. “Now I need to take control for a while. Need to show you what you do to me.”

Skimming her thighs so lightly that I can almost convince myself it’s imaginary, Roxanne’s mouth parts, the faintest moan slipping out as my thumb brushes against the crease of her leg.

Her thighs are so fucking soft. Like little marshmallows I want to bite into.

“Are you going to touch me or stand there and tease?” she asks softly, but keeps herself stationary. Resisting.

“I’m going to be greedy, Roxanne.”

“Show me how greedy.”

My middle finger strokes the damp cotton of her panties, the mere thought of her bare, warm, and wet inches away from my fingers again sending me into a fucking frenzy.

“I’ll show you anything you want.” I lean in, wetting my lips. “All you have to do is beg for it.”

A deadly grin glides right across my face. I want her to taste her own words.

She lets out a frustrated snort-growl and shoots a hand out, pushing me away until my back hits the door.

“Oh my god. You really are so annoying,” she laughs, but it sounds angry as the bell rings overhead. She starts to shimmy her pants back up.

I grip the door handle, trying to act like I hadn’t been seconds away from ripping her clothes off as she adjusts her vest and walks toward me.

“You can’t run away now, we still have some unfinished business.” I stick my finger in her vest pocket to pull her in for one more kiss, and her grin stretches against me, cheeks rounding against mine.

Then she shoves me. Not any shove, but a shove with the kind of force that makes you rethink all your life choices up to that point. We’re talking about a shove that could’ve easily broken the door down and then we’d both be falling into the hallway.

The door groans when the cold metal bites at my bare back, and I let out a hiss at the feeling of her pressing into me.

“I know,” the proud pusher says, smiling up at me.

What that truly means, I have no clue, but the answer unfolds as Roxanne’s arms turn into grappling hooks, manhandling me and dragging me down like a sack of potatoes.

That shouldn’t make my knees buckle, shouldn’t have me gripping the floor like a man possessed, shouldn’t send a surge of heat through my body, awakening something in me I didn’t know existed.

In a blink, hands slide past my chest, and my back presses harder against the door once more as she drops to her knees, reaches for the waistband of my jeans, and pulls them down to my thighs.

And I let out an “Oh.”

My eyes drop down from my navel to her fingertips, where she’s digging underneath the band of my white boxers. My mouth waters when I see her eyes dart down to me hard, tenting the fabric where it swells so fucking hot and heavy.

“Let’s finish it then,” she says, and my stomach spasms when my dick springs out of its confines. Roxanne pauses, and her head jerks back a bit while my body feels as if it was pulled out of an oven—my cheeks and chest the hottest they’ve ever fucking burned as her eyes trail me up and down. It makes me feel squirmy, but I don’t shy away.

A wind of cold air brushes over my newly exposed skin as she starts to straddle my knees. Her thighs hug the sides of my torso, then her palm reaches between us to wrap around me, and my head knocks back against the door. My mouth hangs open in a silent “whoa” as euphoria tears through my fucking gut.

Once her lips come back to mine, her hand starts to pull at me. The edge of her palm reaches a particularly great spot, making me groan lowly in my throat and reach out to grip her hips.

She tightens her hold, stroking slowly, thumb sliding over the thick tip and gathering the slickness that’s been built before pumping it down. A soaked sound fills the room in the hottest way that I would have never thought I’d be into.

Not coming from me, at least.

“Shit— yes ,” I pant right after slamming my head against the door. I don’t care about the different throbbing ache at my skull. “So much yes.”

“Yes,” she laughs, tugging at my bottom lip with her teeth. “So much yes.”

I turn into a cursing, groaning mess for the next thirty seconds. Those green eyes stare right at me, twinkling, as her palms create a deliciously tight drag, and I thrust up into her hand.

This woman has turned me into a fucking whimpering and whining fool. My head tilts back against the door, a string of more embarrassingly needy sounds escaping me that I'll definitely deny later.

“Rox—” I groan, and she makes this noise against my throat that sends vibrations all through me. “I think—it’s about that—time.”

I've lost all control. Eyes screwed shut, hips moving to her rhythm, fingers digging harder into her jeans.

The heat is unreal. It's in my stomach, up my spine, and in my fingertips as she moves up my throat and to my mouth. Behind my closed eyes, time fractures into shards of bliss as if she's rewriting my body's language.

She sucks on my bottom lip this time, dragging it out gently, and that’s the tipping point. It sends me clinging to her hips as my mouth drops open, gulping air between vocal pants and curses. Incoherent pleas tumble out, punctuated by deep groans as she nips and sucks at the skin of my lip.

The world starts to creep back slowly, and it takes a few more seconds before the warmth of her mouth leaves mine, and I hear shuffling at the shelf to my right.

“Jesus Christ,” I shudder, voice hoarse and dry. “Please tell me we’re doing that again.”

I open my eyes to her smiling, tossing a rag to the side after wiping off her fingers, still sitting on top of me with her hands now pressed against my thighs. I feel sorry for the poor sap who unknowingly finds that towel later.

“This was definitely the last time.”

“Last of today, you mean.” I know her too well to believe we can resist each other for long.

“How do you know that I haven’t lost my appetite after that?”

“Because, Rox,” I drawl, tucking loose hair behind her ear. “I know you, and I’ve already made you feel things you’ve never felt before. If anything, your cravings are just getting started. It would be a shame for it to end so soon.”

She looks at me with a tiny, pleased smile. “That’s quite the assumption.”

“A correct one,” I say, sliding my finger down the length of her nose as I remember her literally telling me no one has touched her like I have before. Roxanne rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the sunshine in them.

“I’m starting to hate you for being right all the time.”

“Hate is a strong word to feel for someone like me.” I pinch her chin lightly between my fingers, tilting her pout down towards mine. “I have a feeling we’ll get over that eventually.”

“What makes you so sure that you are this magical being that will make me fall into your arms?”

My thumb traces along her bottom lip, my soul vibrating as her hands slide up to where my hips and thighs meet. “Oh I dunno… because I know exactly what you need. I’m your dream guy. It’s that simple.”

She scoffs, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth while she glances down at my dick still out of my pants. “You probably think you’re everyone’s dream guy.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sunshine. Most girls would rather I be distant, but you...” My thumb pulls that lip out of her mouth. “You want to see how deep I go.”

Her eyes—so slowly—flick up to meet mine. “You’ve got a big ego, y’know that?”

“If it’s not inflated, it should be,” I grin, getting the feeling we’re not only talking about my ego here. I trail my thumb down her neck, dipping it just beneath the chain of her necklace. “Would you rather I have a small one?”

“I’d rather you have some modesty,” she says as she arches a brow, leaning into my touch at the same time. “Because you’re also a shameless flirt.”

I swallow my smile and double down. “Shameful flirting isn’t my thing. I’m a man that knows what he wants and goes after it. That’s why I’m going after you right now.”

Something flashes across her face then, thoughts spinning behind that furrowed brow. She sits up a little straighter, back stiff and resting her hand gently on my wrist. The room goes quiet and I can hear every sound my body makes, right down to the dry, clicking of my throat as I swallow my own spit.

“You don’t want me,” she squeaks. “You’re only going after me because you’re the kind of guy who can’t stand not getting his way.” She shifts back, her hand falling away, fingers tangling together nervously. I quickly adjust myself, tucking back into my boxers while still keeping our connection intact. “There’s no way I could be your kind of girl.”

Is she serious?

“Roxanne,” I start, touching my finger lightly to her lips to shush her. “Maybe it’s time you stop making assumptions about me, and let me tell you who I am.”

I slide my hand along her jaw, tilting up her chin so her avoidant eyes meet my serious face. “You’re wrong. So fucking wrong. I want you because you’re you. Because you challenge me, blow my mind, and make me feel shit I never even knew was possible. I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, and nothing’s ever made me feel the same way music does, except for you.” I brush her cheek with the edge of my thumb. “So let me work my magic and prove to you how awesome I think you are. No more talking messy about yourself, got it?”

She nods as I move my hand to her hip, fingers slipping underneath her tank top. I carefully tug at the waist of her jeans, peeking at the lines of her wishbone tattoo.

“How’s it healing up?” I study the details—no flaking to be seen. It looks smooth and fully healed already.

“It’s... feeling really good,” she admits in a whisper, focusing on the small ink with me.

“Glad to hear it.” Using the finger hooked into her jeans, I pull her back into me. “It’s looking perfect... just like you.”

She rests a palm against my shoulder, and I nose up her neck, nudging her jaw until she tilts her head back. All my fingers slip into the band of her pants, trying to pull her closer.

“Noah.” Her hand fumbles for mine, wrapping her index with my own.

“What?” I murmur, sliding my other hand to the small of her back. “You got a problem with me being right again?”

“No,” she laughs, shaking her head. “It’s… have you ever hooked up with a friend before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” I respond, but a smile creeps across my face as the answer comes out. I know she’s curious now that I’ve started something with her. “Does this feel like a hookup to you?”

She straightens in my lap again, placing both hands on my shoulder. “No, it doesn’t.”

My heart squeezes at that. This is way too different to only be a hookup and it’s only been a couple days. If it ended up being only a one sided case, I might have had to become a hermit and live in the mountains with a pack of wolves. Or worse, face the fact that I’ve fallen harder for her than I ever thought possible.

My fingers shift between her jeans and her tattoo again, but I refrain from touching the skin. “Does that bother you?”

The color starts bleeding back into my face when her eyes slide down to meet mine as she swallows, then hesitantly shakes her head no.

“But what if… what if I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now?”

Damn . I know she got her heart broken, and I get it, I really do. But Jesus Christ, this girl... She’s got me by the balls.

I like this girl. A lot. More than I’ve ever liked anyone before. And the thought of not being with her, of watching her walk away makes me want to puke, scream, punch a wall—anything to make this feeling stop.

But I guess I’m still trying to figure my shit out too. Never had a real girlfriend, so I’ve got no fucking clue what I’m doing. All I know is that Roxanne’s the real deal, and I’m down for anything she gives me. I appreciate how honest and straightforward she is. I fuck with that. No games . Unless they’re the fun kind.

“Good thing I’m not looking for a boyfriend either,” I bat my lashes, pulling her body tight against me until every curve is fused to the hard lines of my longing. “All I want is you. All I know is that I have a lot of new feelings towards you. And I think that you want me too.”

Roxanne looks like she wants to cuss me out, but instead, all that comes out when she parts her lips is a small bubble of air.

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong,” she whispers. “This scares me to death because I don’t know what I want.”

I know this scares me too.

I also know it feels right. That this could either be the first good idea I’ve ever had, or the worst. Like that time I thought it would be a good idea to try a triple kickflip down twenty stairs after downing a six-pack. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. At least I got a really cool scar on my knee from it.

I want to be around her, I need to be around her. But I can’t be friends with her. Not when my being is screaming for more.

“Then why don’t you try me out,” I murmur, my index rubbing lazy swirls at the center of her spine. I’d rather do a triple kickflip down sixty stairs than settle for friendship. “I’ve proven I know how to make you feel good. That I can protect and make you feel safe. That I know exactly what gets you going. Try me. Let me into your world and I’ll treat you like the fucking angel you are.”

I watch Roxanne’s face visibly soften, something indescribable crossing her gaze.

It fled fast.

“What does that mean, though?” she asks. “Are you saying we’re only messing around?”

“That’s a word for it, sure,” I reply, stuck in the way her pupils dilate. “I will say this—we’re not going to be a one time thing. Something that’ll last until one of us says we want it to end.”

What is wrong with me, putting my heart on the platter like this? Because she’s fascinating, you idiot, that’s why , my unhelpful inner voice supplies. Because she’s wild and intriguing and makes you feel things—crazy things you thought you’d outgrown.

Like hope. And actual happiness. And the urge to write my own love songs about her.

That’s where this gets dangerous, of course. If I let myself fall off, I know it’ll hurt like nothing I’ve ever known when she leaves. I can already feel the future ache taking shape, an omen of the world of pain waiting for me down that road. The sweetest injection of pain she could ever give me.

“Okay,” Roxanne’s voice snaps me out of my trance, that one breathy syllable sending desire hot and heaving through my veins.

Something in the air shifts when she moves in on me, and I can see how brown and wet her bottom lip is. Like a freshly glazed donut, and, damn, now I’m hungry all over again for her.

Who am I kidding? This woman could ask for my soul and I’d gladly sign it over.

A slow, secretive smile curves that mouth. “What are we then?”

I snort. That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?

“I want us to be a lot of things.” One slow breath in and I keep my gaze to meet hers. “I want this to be all about you for as long as we can make it last. I want to know every inch of your body, from head to toe. I want to make you feel like no one ever has. I want you to be mine, as much as I can have you.”

“What happens if we become too dependent on this?” Her tongue sneaks out to wet her lips as the words rush out in one breathless tumble. “What if something breaks us or something happens that we can’t move on from?”

Swallowed in silence, a thousand things to say come to mind, but none of them feel right.

It’s a valid point, one I can’t really shrug off like it’s nothing. I don’t want to think about the fallout. And the way she’s looking at me has something pulling at my chest again, touching that spot that’s been digging around in the dirt and laying some sort of roots, but I don’t think she needs to hear that.

Before she rolled her way into my life—and literally, rolled on the bar stool at The Velvet Ostrich to face me—I was viewing life through a frosted window. Her fire melted that barrier away and lit me up in all sorts of colors. I don’t want to go back to the cold yet.

“We’d deal with that if— when —we get to it. We go round and round until we find a solution. Just like we have been. That’s the price of admission for this ride, babe.”

Roxanne lets out a little huff of air, shaking her head at the familiar agreement we made for creating the band. “Then this is just us having fun? No commitment, even between friends?”

“Let’s call it… exploring each other.”

“Sure, exploring. You and me. Just like Columbus.” She moves in closer, sliding those arms around my neck and rising up on her knees until she’s looming over me, forcing my head back to maintain eye contact. “Just try to discover things that haven’t already been found.”

“I can promise to put in more effort than he did.”

A soft snort from her nose. “What happens after we’re done exploring?”

I swallow hard, looking up at those brown lips slick with her tongue that I know tastes like cherries. “Oh, I’ll keep exploring, and keep finding new things, new areas of you that you aren’t even aware of.” It’s only half a bluff. Thanks to my super-strength teenage hormones I’m already getting hard again from having her little ass in my lap, imagining all of the next things.

“Then what?” She arches one shaped brow. “We keep exploring? And exploring? Where does it end?”

I settle my palms on her back pockets. “When you fall in love with me, obviously.”

“Like that’ll ever happen.”

“Just watch.” My hands give her a light swat on the ass, grinning wider when she fidgets against me.

I love how she likes to play rough. Not surprising though, coming from my grumpy mistress. Petite and sweet on the outside, but dark and hot on the inside.

“Yeah,” she says with that corner little smile, and it has me fully shifting this situation over to the best idea ever category. “Let’s watch.”

“It’s already happening,” I murmur, leaning into her neck, placing my lips above her heartbeat. “How are those butterflies feeling right now?”

“Annoying.” She laughs, one that melts into a hum and a smile.

“Then I know just what to do.”

I kiss her with everything I have, winding my arms so tight around her until she squeaks. God, that noise. Her smile pushes wider against my mouth, the hollows of her dimples spearing my cheeks, smooth edges of teeth imprinting joy against my upper lip like a Braille message for me to read alone.

This is what I live for. This bone-deep feeling zinging between us, this sweet connection we’ve somehow created between one another out of thin fucking air. An ocean of feelings neither of us knew we could swim in. One I know she’s never gotten from someone else before—me neither.

“We should have some rules though,” Roxanne whispers faintly when we break apart.

The absolute last thing on my mind is some list of DOs and DON'Ts as those long lashes sweep low. She’s already been such a naughty rule-breaker seconds ago.

“Like what?” I whisper back, hands flexing over her thighs.

“Like... like we shouldn’t do this all the time,” she breathes out, even as her fingers curl into my shirt. “Only sometimes. When we really need it.”

Oh, my sweet sunshine, always trying to be so sensible. Even now, when her heart is racing under my lips and her body is tight with need.

“I’m gonna need it a lot then,” I rasp against her ear. “Cause being with you like this... it’s everything.”

A shiver runs through her and I feel it in my bones. This perfect, pocket-sized rebel angel, trembling for me. Trusting me with her heart even though it scares her. I want to give her the world.

“Me too,” she admits softly, like it’s a secret. “More than sometimes.”

“Then that’s our rule. As much as we want. Whenever we want. No holding back.”

Her fingers come up to twirl a loose curl over my eye. “We have to be honest with each other about everything—no hiding things. And whatever we do while we’re together we get to keep to ourselves.”

“Honesty I can do. What we do together stays between us, of course. But I don’t want anyone else kissing you.” My eyes roam her face. “Rule three: If you’re going to be hungry, I’d rather you be hungry for me.”

“Rule three: you don’t get to boss me around and tell me what I can and can’t do,” she says on a quick snap. That head tilt of hers screams ‘fight me’ louder than words.

This time, I roll my eyes.

“Rule three: It’s my job to piss you off, so you can get over it.” I stifle the urge to smile and move in to kiss her again. “I want to know we’re exclusive with each other. No kissing, no dating, no anything with other people. Can you handle that?”

“So you want me all to yourself?” Her teeth catch my lower lip in a slow, maddening drag. “Are you afraid some handsome stud is going to come and steal me away?”

“Do you want some other guy coming to kiss you? Someone else making you feel like this?“ My hands drift down to the backs of her knees, yanking on her so she sits fully into my lap. “Other guys sneaking into your window?” I tilt my head. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. We can explore each other, not the rest of the world, got it?”

“You don’t own me, Mr. Jackson. But I’m willing to do ‘exclusive exploration’ with you.”

“I like that. Exclusive exploration.” My fingers slide up her thighs, stopping to cup her hips. “That gets my seal of approval, sunshine.”

And then she’s on me, all smiles and lips, her mouth a tattoo of fire. She doesn’t take one taste—four, five, six kisses later, breathless and dizzy, it’s clear.

She’s all in with me. No turning back now.

“Fuck, we’re definitely going to be late for class now,” I laugh once that warning bell rings, my thumbs still tracing lazy patterns on her hip bones.

“Like you give a shit,” Roxanne teases, those dimples of hers emerging like adorable little sinkholes bracketing brown lips. “I know that’s you hiding out in the gym. I can smell your nasty cowboy killers from down the hall.”

“That’s me and my gross cigarettes that you’re dreaming of.” I match her smile as we untangle ourselves and climb to our feet. Adjusting my jeans and my belt back to normalcy, I can’t resist a swat at that perfect ass as she bends down to pick up her backpack.

“I’m sure I can find a way to punish you for making me late.” I slide my rumpled shirt back on, scooping up my jacket next. “Maybe I’ll get you after class.”

“Maybe you will.” Her eyes are daring me as she slings her bag over one shoulder, hand toying with the doorknob as shoots me a look of pure, unfiltered sass. “Come and find me, big guy.”

Then she’s gone, darting out the door.

Oh, hell no . She did not throw down that gauntlet.

Shrugging on my jacket, I chase after her. “Don’t go too far,” I call out, already wanting to feel her close again. “I know exactly how to track you down.”

The peal of laughter floating back to me is all the answer I need.

This means war, and I’m gonna get her back later. And win. That much is a given.