Chapter Nine
Elsie
The sun is barely up when I wake, feeling like I fell asleep in a sauna, with something jabbing me in the butt cheek.
I groan and stretch…and then freeze.
I'm not in my bed, and I'm not alone.
I crack my eyes open, my heart pounding, and peek over my shoulder. Sure enough, I'm not in my bed, and I'm not alone.
Noah is nestled on the sofa behind me, one arm thrown over my waist, the other cradling my head like a pillow. He's still sleeping, looking more peaceful and still than I've ever seen him.
He's beautiful awake, but asleep, he's something else entirely.
My heart turns a flip.
And then panic trickles in.
He kissed me last night. Correction. I asked him to kiss me last night. And then he got me off. He was sweet and gentle and so damn good.
What happens now? What if he wakes up and tells me that it was just a pity orgasm? What if he doesn't say that, and everything changes?
I have a feeling the latter is more likely to happen, and I don't know what to do with that. I don't know how to feel about it. Last night was good, better than I ever expected. If I have to give it up now, it's going to break my heart into tiny pieces.
I won't survive it. I think I'm in love with him. Not falling, but actually there—landed, arrived at destination.
"Shit," I whisper, the truth resonating through me like a gong. I'm in love with Noah. That's why I was so hurt yesterday morning, not because I thought we're friends, not because I'm falling for him, but because I actually love him.
I see a future with him, one where we argue over the remote and watch stupid television shows, and he tries to annoy me while I grade papers, and I tease him while he tells me stories about all the ridiculous things he's done as a cop.
One where we bake for each other and cook for each other, and instead of stalking him through the window and saying goodbye at the end of the night, we actually live together.
The grand adventure I wanted was him. It was love, something I was never going to find in Porter, where I never met anyone new and knew too much about all of my neighbors.
I'm still in the thick of my existential crisis when Noah shifts behind me, his breath stirring the hair on the back of my neck. His arm tightens, holding me in place, and then he starts to wake up.
There's a moment where I think—maybe I even hope—he'll just get up and leave before realizing what happened, just so we don't have to have that awkward morning after conversation. But, no.
He buries his face in my hair and breathes in deep, like he's trying to memorize the way I smell.
I freeze, pretending to be asleep, not ready to face whatever this is.
His hand slides up my waist, slow and gentle, before settling over my stomach.
We're spooning, my skirt is rucked up, and I'm pretty sure my panties are still soaked.
The combination of embarrassment and giddy excitement is enough to make me explode.
"Morning," he rasps against my neck, his voice all sandpaper and sleep. "You awake?"
I contemplate pretending I'm not, but then he kisses my shoulder, and any hope of maintaining my composure is gone.
"Yeah," I squeak, my eyes tightly shut.
He doesn't move right away. He lies there for a long time, his breath hot and even on my skin, his body pressed up against mine.
Eventually, he shifts, nuzzling my hair again, his beard tickling the shell of my ear. "You're thinking too loud," he grumbles, his arm tightening around my middle as if he's worried I'll slip away.
I twist my head to catch his expression, wary and hopeful all at once. "Thinking too loud?"
"You're worrying. Don't. It's too early for that." He drags his nose along my neck, slow, almost lazy, and I want to melt. "Stop thinking so much, Elsie."
He says it like it's easy, but I'm built for worrying and second-guessing. I chew on my lip. "Okay," I say, even though my mind is racing ten thousand miles per hour.
He rolls me onto my back, peering down at me, and for a split second, I think he's going to say something serious and scary. I brace myself.
Instead, he just brushes his fingers down my jaw, slow and reverent, and kisses me on the cheek.
"Good girl," he whispers, and I almost combust.
I have no idea what to do next. "Do you regret it?" I blurt without meaning to do it. My voice is barely audible, but he hears me. Of course he does.
He blinks, surprised. Then snorts, shaking his head. "Hell no. I regret not doing it sooner." His lips quirk into that crooked smile I love so much. "Do you?"
"No." The word comes out before I can think to filter it. "I mean…it's just…I don't want it to be…weird."
His brow furrows. "Weird how?"
I can't meet his gaze. "We're friends, Noah. At least, I thought we were friends. I don't want to mess that up."
He laughs, a deliciously low rumble that's full of warmth and affection. "Friends, huh?"
I fumble for a scrap of dignity. "Yeah, friends."
He stares at me for a long time, the space between us pulsing and electric. And then he grins, the curve of his lips slow and wicked. "Fuck that noise."
Before I can register what's happening, he dips his head and kisses me—hard, thorough, a little bit smug, too. I gasp into his mouth, and he takes that as an invitation, deepening the kiss until I'm dizzy all over again.
When he finally pulls away, I'm breathless and a little shell-shocked. He brushes my hair back from my face, searching my face.
"Elsie." His voice is rough, gravelly, almost irritated, except there's a smile playing around his wicked mouth. "I need you to hear me right now, okay?"
I nod, speechless.
"We're not friends." He says it with a finality that both scares and thrills me. "I don't want to be your friend. Not after last night. Not after any of this." He gestures to the sofa, to us, to my skirt bunched around my waist, and his shirt riding up his abs.
I think my heart stops.
"We're—what are we?" I stutter, terrified that if I say too much, I'll break the spell and he'll tell me that he's just kidding.
He grins, the crooked, lazy one that makes my knees weak. "We're whatever you want us to be. But we aren't going back to just friends."
I want to argue, just to see that look on his face again, but the alarm on my phone starts screaming from somewhere under the sofa cushions, and I realize I'm going to be late for work again.
"Shit!" I scramble, practically falling off the couch onto the floor.
He catches me at the last second, saving me from my own clumsiness. "Careful, baby," he murmurs, and then helps me stand before fishing in the cushions for my phone. He silences the alarm before handing it over to me.
When I take it, he doesn't immediately let it go. Instead, his hand engulfs mine, his eyes locked on my face.
"Stop thinking so much," he orders, as if it's that simple. If he had any idea what he does to my brain, though, I doubt he'd feel say it like that…so bossy.
"I need to get ready for work before I'm late," I say softly.
He grimaces, hauling himself to his feet. I get a glimpse of his abs before his shirt falls back into place. "You know I'm sorry about yesterday morning, right? Any kid who passes through your doors is lucky to have you."
"I know," I whisper. "It's okay."
He steps in front of me, tilting his head down. His eyes meet mine like he's looking for something. I'm not sure what he finds—probably pure neuroticism at this point because ya girl is spiraling—but he just shakes his head, his lips quirking into another lazy grin.
"It's not okay yet, but it will be, baby." His lips brush my forehead before he steps back, sauntering toward the front door. He glances at me over his shoulder once, his eyes soft. "See you after work."
I just nod, unable to form words as he slips out, leaving me alone with my loud-as-hell thoughts and all the questions I didn't have time to ask.
Sometimes, being an adult with an adult job and adult responsibilities is, literally, the lamest thing on the face of the earth.
It's after ten when a sharp rap rattles my front door on the hinges. Even though I expected it, I jump anyway, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
"Crap," I whisper, jolting to my feet. My hands rise toward my hair, trying to tame my wild curls into some semblance of order. It's a losing battle, though. Unless there's a straightener involved, my hair does what it wants.
Apparently, so does my heart because it's racing like this is the freaking Derby, and it's trying to win the race.
"It's just Noah," I remind myself, only to snort as soon as the words leave my lips. He's the whole reason I'm anxious as hell. He's always the reason. But he's doubly the reason now that he's given me an orgasm and declared that we're not friends.
I've been unable to think of anything else all day. Fortunately for me, he was at work when I got off, so I've had time to prepare. Not that it helped much. I'm still a nervous damn wreck.
But I'm less anxious than I was this morning. Talking to Alice helped. She gave me a little much-needed clarity, reminding me that if I run from this now, I'll always regret it. And she's right.
It doesn't matter if it's big and scary and new. I want this, enough to risk the possibility of heartbreak. Which means I need to put my big girl panties on and let myself fall into it instead of being a neurotic mess about it.
I take a breath, trying to calm myself down before I pull the door open for him. He looks too damn good standing on the other side with his badge hanging from a chain around his neck and a smirk on his lips.
"Did I wake you up?" he asks, his gaze doing a slow drift down my body.
"No. I was up." I hold the door open for him. "You coming in?"
"I wish." He grimaces. "I'm still on shift. I just came to check on you before we head back out."
"Oh." My brows furrow when I realize his SUV is running in my driveway instead of parked in his own. Jackson waves from the driver's seat, so I wave back. "Are you guys working a case?"
"Yeah. A robbery." He scowls. "Some jackass decided to hit up a convenience store."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"It's fine." He snorts. "He wasn't very good at it. The idiot dropped his wallet in the parking lot. With any luck, he'll be in cuffs soon. We're just trying to get him there before he decides to run." He cocks his head to the side, scrutinizing me. "You good, baby?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. Why?"
"Because you were anxious as hell this morning," he says. "I don't want you thinking I'm avoiding you or any bullshit like that."
"I don't think that. Your job is important, Noah."
"So are you." He grins, leaning forward to touch my cheek. "I want to take you somewhere tomorrow."
"Uh…" I blink at him, my heart slamming against my ribcage. "You mean like a…?"
"A date, Dimples," he says. "I want to take you on a date. I should have done it weeks ago, but I had my own head in my ass. We're over that now, though, so we're going to do this shit right. And that means dates, orgasms, you sleeping in my bed."
My head spins, hope rushing through me in a flood.
"We'll go as slow as we need to go to make sure you're comfortable, but we aren't going back."
"I…" I lick my lips, reaching deep for a little courage. "A date sounds nice."
He grins like I just gave him a winning lottery ticket, and I feel like I just won the lottery. The hot cop lottery. Go me.
"Um, what should I wear?"
"Whatever you want." He strokes my cheek. "You'll look beautiful regardless, baby. You always do."
My cheeks blaze with heat at his compliment.
Jackson shoves his head through the window to shout at Noah. "Yo, Romeo! We've gotta go. Nelson has eyes on our suspect."
"Shit." Noah glances from me to him. "Be right there!" He turns back to me, regret heavy in his expression. "I gotta go, baby. You sure you're good?"
"Noah." I laugh quietly. "I promise I'm good. Go."
He growls a soft curse and then yanks me into his arms. His lips come down on mine, his kiss is hungry, possessive. I can't help but get lost in it, in him, in the cage of his arms and the sure way his body fits against mine. But it's over far too soon.
He breaks from my lips with a groan, practically launching himself off the porch.
"Tomorrow, Dimples," he rasps, his wild eyes meeting mine in the dark. "You're all mine for date night tomorrow."
I shiver in response, wrapping my arms around myself.
I am so ready to be his.