37. The One Where He Begs
THIRTY-SEVEN
THE ONE WHERE HE BEGS
? Breakfast - Dove Cameron
CLIO
When I signed my name on the contract, I failed to consider the repercussions.
In true Clio Marsden fashion, I didn’t look both ways before I crossed the line, and now I’m in love with a man who’s convinced loving me back would be our downfall.
He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to.
I felt it in the deliberate, measured way he kissed me.
When we left that cliffside, I felt like I was standing at the bottom waiting for him to leap. How long can I stand here before the waiting becomes unbearable?
I tuck the blanket around Auggie’s shoulders and press a kiss to the top of his head.
“Night, Cici,” he mumbles.
“Good night, sweet boy.”
I click off the bedside lamp and grab his processors off his nightstand, tiptoeing out of the room and closing the door quietly. I head for Noah’s room, but his charger isn’t plugged in where I thought it would be, so I pull out my phone and shoot off a text.
Me: Where’s the charger for Auggie’s ears?
Noah: Should still be plugged in beside my bed.
Me: Nope. Try again.
Noah: Check the top drawer of my nightstand.
I pad to the opposite side of the bed and pull open the drawer. What I see there stops me in my tracks. Tucked beneath the charger for Auggie’s cochlear implants is a sketchbook open to a charcoal portrait…
Of me.
My phone chimes once more. Noah’s name lights up the screen.
Noah: Wait.
I sink onto the side of the bed with the sketchbook in my hands. Setting aside the fact that it’s a portrait of me, the artwork is stunning. It captures every detail down to the last freckle on my nose.
Careful not to smudge anything, I flip to the next page, curious what I’ll find—a sketch of Auggie, maybe. I suck in a sharp breath when it’s yet another portrait of me, this time from the festival. Even in shades of grey, I can almost feel the sunlight on my face.
The next page features a rougher sketch drawn in blue ink on a torn-off piece of paper from my notebook with strawberries around the edges. It’s haphazardly taped into the book with folds in the paper like it was hastily tucked away before it found its home inside the book.
A muffled thud precedes a set of heavy footfalls carrying down the corridor until Noah is standing in the bedroom doorway, chest heaving, his silhouette backlit by the light in the hall. He’s devastatingly handsome, even in silhouette.
His gaze flits from me to the sketchbook.
“Fuck.”
NOAH
I’m just finishing up with my last client when my phone chimes in my pocket. “I’ll see you back here in six weeks. If you need anything, just text me.”
“Thanks. I’ll see ya.”
As he strides out the exit, I pull out my phone and see a text from Clio on the screen.
Princess: Where’s the charger for Auggie’s ears?
Me: Should still be plugged in beside my bed.
I type out a reply and start cleaning up my station. Clio’s spending the night at my place and I’m eager to get home so I can have her in my arms again. My phone chimes a second time.
Princess: Nope. Try again.
Me: Check the top drawer of my nightstand.
The second I reply, my body goes rigid. If the charger is in my nightstand, which I’m certain it is, she’s going to find my sketchbook. Will it freak her out to know I’ve spent the last nine months trying to sketch her from memory? Fuck
Me: Wait.
I stare at my phone waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. When a full minute passes without a response, I shove out of my chair and rush to the stairwell. Before I can get there, Gwen jogs to catch up with me.
“Mind helping me out for a sec?”
“Can it wait?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Geez, who’s got your panties in a bunch?”
Letting my frustration get the better of me, I glare at her. “What do you need, Gwen?”
“Never mind. It’s not important.”
The unnecessary distraction causes me to lose several valuable seconds, and by now there’s no question in my mind about whether or not Clio found my sketchbook.
I groan and wrench open the door between the studio and the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time.
Every nerve ending in my body is vibrating with a heavy mix of anticipation and dread.
I stride into my apartment and kick the door shut behind me, not stopping until I’m standing in my bedroom’s the open doorway. There it is. The woman who managed to break through all of my defenses as she turns another page.
I heave out a ragged sigh and run my hand down my face. “Fuck.”
How am I supposed to explain that I’ve spent every moment with her painstakingly memorizing every detail of her face?
That I’ve been held captive by every last one of her thirty-six freckles for months on end, tormented by the exact curl of her lashes and the delicate slope of her cupid’s bow.
How do I tell her any of that without also telling her I’ve fallen tragically, relentlessly in love with her against my will?
If I didn’t wholeheartedly believe love would ruin us, I’d say just that, fuck the consequences. But I don’t know how to give her what’s left of my heart.
“Why?”
One word, barely audible beneath my thundering pulse.
I pad into the room and lower myself onto the bed across from her, taking the sketchbook and placing it back in the drawer.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, inside and out.
” I run my knuckles down the side of her cheeks, taking her trembling hand in mine.
“You radiate warmth and light, and when you smile… God, Clio. Your smile moves me. If I could find a way to live in it, I’d stay there forever and die a happy man. ”
Her brow furrows, and she tilts her head, staring at me in awe. “Noah…”
“I know, princess. Don’t say anything.” I’ve laid all my cards on the table short of those three words I can’t say, and I know if she keeps talking, she’ll cross a line we can’t come back from. “Just kiss me.”
Her soft hands capture my face, her thumbs dragging against my stubble before she leans in, brushing my lips in a whisper of a kiss. Each caress feels like a fist around my heart. It’s too soft—too tender a kiss for the way I’m feeling.
I band my arms around her back and hoist her onto my lap.
As she straddles me, I thread my fingers through her hair and deepen the kiss, fusing our mouths and delving in to taste her sweetness. She nips my bottom lip, and I groan as my cock responds with a jolt. Panting, Clio breaks from the kiss and slides off my lap, onto her knees.
“What are you doing, princess?” There’s an unspoken warning in my voice—one she’s seemingly hell-bent on ignoring as she reaches for my zipper.
“I want to make you feel good.” She wrenches open my jeans and tugs them down with my underwear.
I lift my hips to give her more room to pull them all the way off and toss them off to the side.
Feeling strange about being half-dressed, I lift my shirt off over my head and throw it into the pile with the rest of my discarded clothing.
Her eyes rake over my torso, and she smirks, taking my cock in hand and licking up the shaft. “Thanks for the view.”
I throw my head back with a strangled moan, hands fisting in the comforter.
Her mouth closes around me, and I nearly come apart right then and there.
It’s agony and ecstasy all at once. As if my hand has a mind of its own, I take her hair in my fist and guide her movements up and down as she sucks the life out of me.
My cock hits the back of her throat, and she looks up at me through tear-filled eyes, her tongue swirling around my shaft.
“Jesus fuck, baby. You’re a goddamn sight.”
She moans, and the vibrations roll through me like an electric current straight to my bloodstream.
“Clio, baby. If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come.”
She’s a breathtaking mess when she pops off my cock, with tears rolling down her cheeks, her lips dark pink and swollen as she catches her breath. I cup her face and bring her mouth to mine for a lazy kiss, not caring where she’s been.
Pulling back, she says, “I want you to show me what else you like.”
“Are you sure? We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for. Even if you’re never ready, that’s ok. I just want to be with you.” Enthusiastic consent has always been important to me. I won’t accept anything less.
“I want to. I’m ready.”
My fingertips trace her temple as I sweep an errant strand of hair away from her face, searching for any sign of trepidation. All I see is honesty and maybe even longing.
I press another kiss to her lips, savoring the sweetness one more time before I head into my closet and come back with adjustable black leather straps, a realistic eight-inch dildo that attaches to them, and a bottle of lube.
I set them at the end of the bed, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet.
I find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head.
She’s not wearing a bra, and her heavy breasts are just begging for my mouth.
Who am I to deny them? I suck one pert nipple between my lips as I hook my fingers into the waistband of her sleep shorts, tugging them down her legs along with her favorite strawberry panties.
I’ve become somewhat attached to the ridiculous things since that first night.
Her long nails scrape against my scalp, and she runs her fingers through my hair. I kiss a path down her sternum, over her soft belly, and on each side of her hips as I sink to my knees and reach for the straps.
After attaching the dildo, I tap her right foot. “Lift.”
She does as she’s told and I slide the harness on before repeating on the other side, tugging it all the way up her hips.
“Have you ever used this with anyone else?” she asks in a shaky voice.
My cheeks heat as I adjust the straps on each side. A lump lodges in my throat, and I swallow around the intrusion. “No. I got it just for us, in case you ever wanted to try.”
“You did?” There’s something like awe in her expression.