Chapter 15 Andie
Fifteen
Andie
“Iwant to suck your penis,” I say, jerking my head to his length that is already hard again. Didn’t he just come?
“Jesus fucking Christ, Andie,” his head falls between his shoulders. “Do you want to kill me?” he asks in a guttural tone, his forehead pressed to mine as his hot breath ghosts over my face.
My boldness registers in my orgasm-riddled brain a little late to take back what I said.
Holy canoly! What did I just say?
“I’m sor—” I begin, but he cuts me off with a glare.
“Don’t apologize, Andie. Never apologize for asking for what you want,” he rasps, his hand cupping my cheek as the rough pad of his thumb caresses below my eyes, making them flutter with the softness of his touch.
“Now, what do you want?” he asks, his dark eyes boring into mine as he stands there naked with not a hint of self-consciousness—not that he has anything to be conscious about. He’s all man.
Squaring my shoulders, as determination floods my veins even if my heart beats like crazy, I repeat, “I want to suck you off, Noah.”
Something akin to pride flashes through his eyes. “Good girl. So that’s what you shall do.” And with that, he picks me up, and that has me wrapping my legs around his waist on a gasp.
My arms hook around his neck as he takes me out to his room. Kicking the bathroom door behind us, he sets me on the edge of the bed. Taking a few steps back, he commands, “Strip.”
My pulse hammers underneath my skin as I follow through and remove my t-shirt and a hoodie I wore while leaving the house. My fingers tremble, yet his hungry and reverent eyes encourage me to keep going.
I don’t know if he’ll like what he sees. Not many do. I have tried getting intimate with a couple guys in college, but they always made me feel like I wasn’t enough, that my weight and stretch marks were something to be ashamed of.
I remember the humiliation of being told exactly that when I wanted something more than kissing for the first time.
That night, I cried myself to sleep, and so many more nights like that followed. That incident followed him breaking up with me in front of an audience.
I didn’t realize that I had lost myself in the thoughts of the past and let a tear escape my eyes. Noah’s hand cups my cheek as he swipes away the tear under my eyes. “Come back to me, Rainbow.” His soft words penetrate the fog in my mind.
Blinking, I clear the haze and take in his worried features. I find myself perched on his lap, my feet dangling on one side, while he holds me in his arms, my t-shirt still in place even if the hoodie is lying around somewhere.
“Come back,” he repeats, his words sounding pained.
I shake my head, banishing all my depressed thoughts as I try to bring my breathing under control. “I’m sorry,” I clear my throat. “God, this is embarrassing.” A throaty chuckle escapes my lips as I wipe my tears.
God, he must be feeling how heavy I am.
I pull back to get off him and relieve him of my weight, but he stops me, flushing me against his chest. I give him a quizzical look, sniffing and trying my hardest not to cry.
“Don’t,” he says, his fingers wrapped around my shoulders. “Don’t hide from me, Andie.”
At his soft plea, an uncontrolled sob bursts free from deep within my chest. I try to hold on to it, not to let the floodgates open.
But Noah’s gentle touch on my back as he rubs it in a soothing motion, and the intensity of his gaze, along with my longing for someone to just want me for exactly who I am, make it nearly impossible for me to suffer in silence. And at the barest hint of compassion, I let go.
Burrowing my face in his neck, arms wrapping around him in a grip that says I’m scared of letting him go, I cry. I cry and sob and mourn the loss of confidence and love for myself.
I cry and cry and cry, and like a rock, bearing all my ache, Noah lets me. He comforts me without any hint of judgment. He whispers sweet words in my ear that don’t promise that it’ll be okay.
No, he’s never been good at lying.
He tells me that he’s here for me. He consoles me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, even if he’s only pretending. Because at this moment, at my lowest, I’ll happily take whatever he’s offering me.
Does that make me pathetic? Of course, it does.
But as violent sobs wrack my body, I can’t bring myself to care. And just for this wild moment, I let myself believe that he’s mine as I unload my ache on him, sitting snuggled on his lap, savoring his warm hold on me.
“Who hurt you, Andie?” Noah asks, his voice pained.
“Everyone,” I mumble between hiccups. The memories of the past twist my heart painfully until I can no longer keep it contained.
His hold tightens around me. “I’m so sorry, Rainbow. I’m so fucking sorry that the world couldn’t see just how beautiful you are.”
Noah’s words only make me cry harder, hating that I seek validation. Yet, I’m only human.
“You’re so fucking beautiful that my heart burns for you, Andie,” he confesses, soothing my aching soul like a balm. “I wish I could take away all your pain and hurt so you’d never have to face the ugly side of the world.”
He caresses my hair, his big hand a comforting touch, providing me with safety at my most vulnerable.
His arms around me feel like the warmest of hugs on the coldest of nights, there to love me, cherish me, and protect me. Not that he’s doing any of those things.
But my stupid heart fools itself into believing that he is.
Soon, the tremors subside, and my sobs turn to light sniffles. When I think I can’t hide my face anymore, I pull back and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. My eyes widen when I see my snot and tears covering the side of his tattooed neck.
When I go to wipe it, my fingers touch over something jagged. My hand stills, and his body freezes underneath my touch, all his warmth evaporating as if it was never there.
Unease trickles through my spine, and I dare a glance at him. His hands might still be around me, but he’s not looking at me anymore.
He’s gazing somewhere far away as his eyes penetrate through the wall as if it has wronged him. His sharp features constrict as his jaw clenches tight, a vein in his forehead feathering.
I’ve never seen such a vacant yet agony-filled look in his eyes. My heart hammers in my chest for an entirely different reason now. I’m scared to utter the wrong words that would make him pull away from me.
I don’t know if he’s hurting or if he’s angry or maybe even both. Taking a deep breath when it looks like he’s not coming back from where he’s transported anytime soon, I call out his name softly, “Noah.”
I press my hand to his bearded cheek—the stubble tickling my palm—hoping to let him sense my presence wherever he’s trapped and bring him back. I whisper his name once more, and that has him rapidly blinking his eyes, coming to it.
I heave a relieved sigh, glad that I haven’t lost him yet.
He shakes his head, his air-dried rogue strands falling over his forehead as he clears his throat. “Yeah…Mhmm…Sorry.”
Why is he apologizing?
Carefully placing me on the edge of the bed, he saunters over to his wardrobe.
Very much aware of how naked I am from waist down, I toy with my hair, my legs pressed shut.
Seconds later, he stands in front of me, a towel now back around his trimmed waist. I crane my neck to look up at him, and he extends the clothes in his hands.
“Go freshen up,” he suggests, jerking his head toward his bathroom. “I’ll go and shower in the guest bathroom,” he informs me as I grab the clothes from him.
I nod at him, and without a word, we both move in the direction of our destinations. All my thoughts in the shower are consumed with everything that transpired from the moment I showed up unannounced at his door. Honestly, I’m not even sure how to react in front of him anymore.
I don’t want things to be awkward. Not when his heated gaze builds my broken confidence piece by piece, even if he’s only helping me out. Even if whatever we’re doing is because he pities me.
Done with the shower, I slide myself into his clothes and wipe the fogged mirror to look at myself. The reflection staring back at me glows, eyes lighter even though they cried their heart out.
I’m by no means small, regardless of my 5’3” stature, yet Noah’s grey t-shirt swallows me whole, drowning me in the fabric that smells like him. Makes me look like someone who’s adored by her possessive lover.
Noah is none of those things. But I’ll be lying if I say that I don’t like the way I look in his clothes, or the drag I take of his scent, pressing the collar to my nose.
God! His scent is invading my senses, and I love it.
A knock on the door startles me. “You done in there, Andie?” Comes Noah’s voice, muffled by the wood between us.
Heat floods my body at the prospect of seeing him in his clothes. “Be out in a second!” I say, hurrying and putting on the pair of shorts he gave me. With a deep breath, I brace myself and walk out.
Unfortunately, I found Noah fully clothed this time as he swipes through his phone. My movements alert him to my presence, and he gazes up from the screen. The second he locates me, heat flares in his eyes as his eyes roam my body from my head to my toes.
Tension cackles in the air as I slowly close the distance between us. “You hungry?” he rasps, his voice scratchier than before.
“I could eat,” I nod, shrugging, not entirely sure what he plans to do.
He pockets his phone, grabs his cap from the nightstand, and strides out of the room. Confused, I jog to catch up to him. “Good. We’re gonna grab a bite,” he throws over his shoulder so nonchalantly that I literally finger my ear, wondering if I heard him wrong.
My steps cease in the living room, unable to process what he said. He wants to go out and eat with me? Is he not sending me home? Is he not done with me after I bawled in his arms like a baby and covered him in my tears and snot?
When he doesn’t find me following him, he pads back into the living room and jerks his head to the door. “Well, come on.” Before I can get a word in, he continues, “No, wait right here.”
My brows furrow because I have no darn idea what this man wants. Seconds later, he appears with his hoodie in his hand. “Wear this,” he says, extending it to me.
“Why?” I tilt my head, trying to understand.
“You’re not going out without your bra, Andie,” he growls, his words sending a shiver down the length of my body.
My brows rise. “Oh, I can wear mine. It must be in your bedroom.” My cheeks heat the moment the words are out of my mouth, because of how intimate that sounds.
“No, wear this,” he demands, not letting me pass.
Unable to deny him with the way his words please me, I grab it and put my arms through it.
His eyes shine with primal satisfaction, and with a nod, he again goes to leave, and this time, I follow him out.
I wonder where he is taking me so late. Excitement bubbles in my blood, and when he stands close to me in the elevator, all I can think about is when we can do this again.
Because I still need him in my mouth.