Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Cole
Noelle Adams is going to be the death of me.
If it had not been for that cursed kitchen timer I’d be kissing her now—hell, I’d have her lifted onto the kitchen counter so I could feel every single part of her pressed against me, taking every scrap of her she’d offer me with gratitude.
Instead, I’m alone in the kitchen prepping two plates in the knowledge this almost-kiss might have scared her off for good.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
She’s upstairs now, trying on the dress I got her months ago to wear to this charity thing I was supposed to go to, but then she broke up with her boyfriend and I decided being home with her was much more important.
It’s a real shame, though. I would have killed for high definition pictures of her in that dress.
Then again her wearing it now gives me slightly better odds of being the one who is blessed enough to take it off.
Oh, shut up. You’ve had your chance and you let it pass. Quit moping around.
In romantic comedies, this would be the point where someone wishes for a sign, something to let them know not to give up. That things will be alright. But I don’t believe in signs. If I did, I would have stopped chasing Noelle years ago.
It doesn’t matter. We just need to get through this weekend with our friendship intact, and then maybe there will be a day when I am ready to move on from her, and she finds someone who isn’t a total coward in showing her how loved she is.
I set the plates on the coffee table, moving it slightly so we can sit on either side to be warmed by the fireplace.
Noelle wanted the full experience, and the dining room table wouldn’t come close.
Sitting on the floor is not exactly it, either, but I care more about her being warm enough than to be authentic.
A loud crack rings through my ears, followed by a big boom only a few seconds later. Darkness overtakes us at once.
“What the fuck was that?” Noelle shouts from upstairs, her voice shaking. In the dim light of the fireplace I can just make out the outline of her body—she’s still in her underwear.
A fucking sign from the universe. “A tree fell on the generator. We are officially without electricity.”
The generator is hard to get to, tucked away on the side of the house under a cover. For a tree to fall in such a way that the house is undamaged but not the generator…maybe there is such a thing as a sign from the universe.
If there is, it’s telling me to take a leap.
I grab the box of candles from where it sits in one of the closets and light them one by one, scattering them throughout the living room and kitchen.
I also found some battery-powered string lights, courtesy of my habit of planning ahead, so I wrap them along the staircase handrail.
I find a dress shirt and nice slacks in the dryer and change as quickly as I can, not wanting to be in sweatpants while she’s glammed up.
By the time I sit back down, the stew is the perfect temperature for eating.
A small sound comes from the stairs and I look up to find Noelle carefully making her way down the steps, looking every bit as beautiful as the moon on still water.
She put her hair half-up like always, the rest falling to her shoulders in soft curls.
The deep blue dress hugs her chest, a slit down the middle showing off her body in an incredible way.
The matching floral lace shimmers as if coated in thousands of diamonds, a flash of leg breaking up the sight when the fabric reveals a split up to her thigh.
Screw the photographs. They would not have done her justice. Noelle Adams is a goddess among boys, the embodiment of all that is holy and loving and beautiful.
And tonight, she is all mine.
“What do you think?” she asks, and to my horror she sounds unsure. Can she not see how breathtaking she looks right now? Can she not see I’m getting hard just from the sight of her like this?
I rise to take her hand, helping her down the final steps. It’s warm and soft in mine. “I think I’ve never seen anything quite like you before.”
“Is that your line?” Noelle snorts, but I see straight through it.
She’s not immune to insecurity, not after years of relentless bullying even I couldn’t protect her from.
She can hold her own, don’t get it wrong, and she’s generally one of the most confident people I know.
But this dress is far out of her comfort zone, and it makes sense it would lead her traitorous brain into enemy territory.
It’s my job to coax it back out safely.
“No. You are worth more than a line, don’t you think?” I say. “It’s the full truth. In a starless sky, you are my guiding light. There is nothing in this universe that could outshine you, nothing that could steal my breath away like you did just now.”
I’m really showing my ass here, more than what is probably wise. But I don’t want her to think bad thoughts about herself for even a second. She doesn’t need that kind of poison tainting her brain. Not when she deserves a life of light, of smiles and happiness and warmth.
I bring her hand to my lips, brushing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Do me the honor of being my date tonight?”
“I guess it passes the time well enough,” she says, her teasing tone not as effective as she hoped. “I have no choice but to leave if something better arises, though.”
“Better make it worth your while, then.” I can’t help but smile as I lead her to the coffee table, the butterflies in my chest stealing the air from my lungs.
Joke or not, I am on a date with Noelle.
I can only describe it as a blessing, a gift from the heavens that brought her into my life. I am not going to waste it.
I’ve taken the pillows off the couch for us to sit on, and even sitting across from her I am speechless.
How can someone look this amazing without even really trying?
She has no make up on, her hair is still wild.
This is the Noelle I’ve always seen and loved, the one I knew I couldn’t live without.
The one I imagine waking up next to in the morning and long to kiss goodnight at bedtime.
The one I look forward to calling every single day during hockey season, because I can’t go a day without hearing her voice.
I never imagined my life without hockey before, it being my life’s dream and all.
But Noelle makes the thought of medical retirement not just bearable, but a solid option, as it means staying right here in Sleighbell Springs with her.
I would miss hockey, of course I would. But I’d have her.
And that’s more than I could ever wish for.
“Go on, dig in before it gets cold,” I say, motioning to her plate. “Champagne?”
She’s got her mouth full, so she only nods. I grip the bottle tight, hoping to conceal my shaking hand as I pour the expensive liquid into her glass—and promptly spill it all over the table. Get a grip, man.
I rise to grab a towel but Noelle places her hand on mine, stopping me in my tracks. “Just leave it. It’s not like it’s going to stain, right? Might as well eat first.”
She’s right. The top of the table is made from marble, so I could leave it for weeks without problem. I just need to find a way to get my nerves under control before I make an even bigger mess of things.
I can’t help it, though. Seeing her in that dress makes it obvious she’s way out of my league.
We eat in comfortable silence, grabbing seconds until our bellies are full and bodies warm. Noelle grabs the marshmallows and sticks while I put the plates in the sink; there’s no running water, so we’ll have to do the dishes another time.
Noelle doesn’t seem to mind the fact that her dress costs more than her rent, and she pushes the table aside before plopping down on one of the floor pillows.
I linger in the kitchen with the cookies and chocolate for a moment when she pats the spot next to her with a smile, our dessert already spiked on two sticks, and I can’t help but oblige.
I need to be careful. We’re in the light of the fire now, with nothing to hide behind. Any touch, any look or word could make my body react again, and I don’t want her to think of me as some kind of pervert. I can’t stop my feelings for her, but I can try to keep a clear head.
I take my seat a safe distance away, but Noelle doesn’t seem to take the hint as she moves over to curl up into my side.
Bugs. Dead bugs. Roadkill in the height of summer. Decomposition. Bones sticking out of—
“Here,” Noelle says, pulling a piece of the melting marshmallow off her stick and holding it before my mouth. I hope she drops it—I’d frame the entire dress as a reminder of this night.
I move slowly, waiting for her to pull back her fingers and laugh at her own joke. She doesn’t. It’s even worse.
She pushes her fingers deeper into my mouth, holding my gaze as I swirl my tongue around them and suck them clean. For a moment an image flashes before my eyes, of the marshmallow covering more interesting body parts, and I can only pray Noelle doesn’t look down at my lap.
Rotting flesh. Cockroaches. Guts. Third degree burns. Infections.
A soft blush crosses her cheekbones when she pulls back her fingers and looks away, like she only now realized what she did.
Do it again, I want to say. Let me show you how good I can make you feel. But despite the lines between us getting muddled they are still there, and it might be one step too far.
“I don’t think the power is turning back on anytime soon,” Noelle says. “It's going to be a long night.”
“Doesn’t have to be. There’s a lot we can still do.” I take another swig of champagne. Shut up.
She raises a brow. “What do you suggest?”
It’s a dangerous, foolish choice. But the alcohol has sucked all rational thought from my brain, and sucking her fingers shattered my self control. “What about truth or dare?”