Chapter 28
Twenty Eight
Andie
“Punishing you.”
Noah’s words play over and over again in my head as if that’ll make me less turned on than I already am. His words should make me hate him, make me wary of the power imbalance.
They should resurrect the feminist part of me that’s buried somewhere I’ve forgotten, and fight for control. But all they do is make me want to submit to him like a good girl.
I can’t stray my eyes from his lips as he utters those words. I’m so lost in the fullness of them, in the musings of how they would taste on my tongue, that I don’t hear him call out my name.
Noah pulls me back from the trenches of my mind with a slap to my wet core. It has me jolting in surprise, my lips parting on something between a gasp and a moan.
When my eyes connect to his, they’re hungry, desperate, and naked, baring every ounce of lust he’s feeling.
“You’re drooling, baby,” he smirks, proud of himself for catching me off-guard, satisfied with being able to cause such a reaction from me.
“Might wanna close it before I decide to stuff it full of my cock right here.” The wicked glint in his eyes is a promise to back his words, as his calloused thumb swipes against my lower lip, smearing my juices there.
My tongue instinctively darts out to lick it, loving my taste on his rough skin. His eyes flare wide, his length twitching against my stomach as his breath hitches.
He stares at my mouth sucking his thumb in like a once-in-a-lifetime view, and I relish every second of it.
Noah’s teeth bite into his lower lip as he holds back a groan that vibrates in his throat. For the first time, I envy his teeth, wishing mine were the ones sinking into his lips instead. I’m dying to know what they taste like, feel like.
Even when every sane thought in me warns me, I still give in to the urge bubbling inside of me. “Kiss me,” I breathe the words in the air between us.
My heart thunders in my chest, the anticipation of his reaction nearly killing me as his searing gaze burns through me at my words, his body frozen as he looms over me.
The warm weight of his thumb on my lower lip feels heavier as seconds tick by, excruciatingly without any response from him.
I’m about to repeat myself, thinking that maybe he didn’t hear me over our rapid breathing when he says, “I’m not kissing you.”
His denial, his blatant rejection, feels like being drowned in water. My heart plummets to the ground, twisting uncomfortably in my chest. In an attempt to hide the hurt of his words and gather whatever dignity I have left, I drop my gaze to his chest.
It takes all of me not to sob in front of him, as I feel all the tension fizzle down along with my hope. “Of course, why would you?” I scoff on a choppy breath, the sting of rejection evident in my tone.
Why would a man like him want to kiss me? He’s one of the best goalies in the National Hockey League; he can literally have anyone. He may have slept with me, but I might not be his type.
After all, a woman with considerable curves is hardly anyone’s type, or so I’ve been told.
“Look at me,” Noah’s raspy voice directs. When I don’t—can’t—he hooks his finger under my chin. “Look at me, Rainbow,” he encourages, his tone this time is soft and pleading.
My eyes flutter to him, tears lining them. His gaze softens at the sight of them as he caresses his thumb under my eyes.
“I’m not kissing you behind a fucking club where your brother can walk in on us, baby,” he whispers.
“The first time my lips touch yours,” his thumb goes back and smears the remnants of my lipstick, making a shiver rack down my spine.
“I know deep in my bones that I’m not stopping until either you pass out or my heart does.
So, no, I’m not kissing you here. But I will, and that’s a fucking promise. ”
The gravity and meaning of his words have my heart tripping in my chest, my eyes wide as they peer into his. His eyes, lined with conviction, assure me of his promise.
“Oh.” That is all the response I’m capable of giving to him. No coherent thought enters my brain when it’s filled with his words, dissecting them, hanging on to them as they envelop my heart like a warm blanket on a Christmas morning.
Amusement dances on his features at my dumbstruck expression, a smile forming on his face, making him look almost boyish. The darkness in his gaze not as prominent.
His words play on a loop in my mind, reminding me that I’m not alone in the depths of this madness. That I’m not the only one flailing on the surface of desire.
“My brother won’t catch us.”
A frown mars his gorgeous features, looking perplexed at the abrupt change in topic. I had to change it. Otherwise, I would’ve confessed feelings I’m not ready to accept myself yet. Feelings, I’m afraid he might not reciprocate.
I let a shaky smile lift my lips. “You said Ezra could catch us. He can’t, unless he came back when I was busy riding your fingers.”
Realization dawns on his face, kicking up his lips too. “I didn’t notice. Not when I was begging to whoever is up there to let me be the man you choose to take home.”
There it goes, my heart melting at his feet.
No man has ever made me feel desirable. While this man casually goes and reveres me as if I’m the crown on his head.
I slide my hand from his thundering heart to his stubbled cheek. His eyes flutter shut as he embraces mine with his, leaning into the touch as he places the softest kiss on my palm. “Warm,” he mutters over my skin.
How does he do this? This man, who doesn’t know how to accept flowers, the man who claims he doesn’t do love, knows how to care for others more than himself, without ever wanting anything in return.
There’s not a single selfish bone in his body. And every single one of mine screams for him.
“Let’s go home, Noah,” I whisper, the words feeling right falling from my lips.
Noah smiles with his eyes for the first time. “Wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else, baby.”
* * *
The tension in the elevator is palpable enough to be cut with a knife, as the metal box ascends to Noah’s penthouse.
We took a cab, seeing that both of us had alcohol mixed with desire for the other injected in our veins—a deadly combination.
We stare at each other from the opposite sides of the elevator, our hands fisted by our sides. He hasn’t touched me since we left The Tap, being careful before getting in the cab together.
When I asked why, he said, “If I touch you now, Andie, I’ll combust. And trust me, you don’t want it happening in the back of an Uber.”
Yes, his words do have that effect on me—shutting me right up, and making me want to open my legs for him.
He said that twenty minutes ago, and I know the second those doors slide open, the imaginary line we’ve been treading for far too long would be obliterated.
Like an ominous bell, the elevator dings, halting on his floor as we take heavy steps to his penthouse and enter it.
I walk ahead, Noah following me and shutting the door behind him with a click that’s indicative of the moment we first break one of our well-laid-out rules.
No kissing.
Huh, now that I swivel on my heels and look at him, mirroring the vibrations racking his body with need, I know kissing Noah Miller is inevitable.
It always has been.
The only predestined future I’ll gladly accept.
If someone asked, I wouldn’t be able to tell them who moved first or who tore off the other’s clothes first.
What I can tell you is that he doesn’t possess a lick of haste when he stands chest to chest with me, both of us naked from head to toe as my pierced nipples rub against his pecs, a shudder rolling through me.
He waits, curves his hand at the back of my neck, takes his time drinking in the look in my eyes right before his lips descend on mine. They don’t move, just stay there, basking in the warmth of the forbidden touch.
And god, nothing has ever tasted sweeter.
Then Noah releases a stuttering breath and moves his lips, sucking mine in his. He emanates something between a whimper and a groan, and my eyes flutter close at the sound.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time.
He’s too much and not enough at the same time.
Soon enough, the kiss turns faster, harder, hungrier, and I’m here for all of it.
I may have lost my virginity to him, but I have kissed guys before. But one touch of his lips, and the truth of just how much life-altering his kiss is burrows itself somewhere deep in the makings of my DNA.
Noah’s hands slide under me, picking me up as my legs wrap around him, my wet core moving over his abs. He bites into my lower lip, pulling a gasp out of me.
His tongue dives in, taking it as permission. I’ve read enough books that mention that kissing someone is like a battle, one seeking domination over the other.
No, our kiss is not like that, though.
Kissing Noah is like being resurrected from the dead. He breathes life into me with each stroke of his soft tongue against mine.
This kiss alone tells me that he’s not seeking control, he’s seeking refuge—worshiping me like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.
I haven’t felt more revered in my entire life.
Noah enters his room, kicking it shut with his foot. Not even seconds later, the faint sound of meowing and scratching against the wooden door is what pulls us apart.
Our lips disengage, swollen from the kiss. Our chests panting with harsh breaths, while we didn’t even feel the need to suck in oxygen into our lungs when his lips were on mine.
When Millie cries outside the door, interrupting our kiss, a giggle escapes my mouth, reminding me how much I’ve missed her, too, even if I knew her for only a few hours.
My forehead falls against Noah’s as he still keeps my legs wrapped around him, steadily and slowly moving my hips over his stomach.