Chapter 29 Andie
Twenty Nine
Andie
Something is moving.
Struggling.
Are those sobs? Is someone crying?
Where am I?
My eyes fly open, body fully alert as I look for the source of the disturbance, only to find Noah thrashing beside me on the bed. The sheets are soaked with his sweat and tears.
I’ve never even seen this man worry, and seeing him sob and releasing these gut-wrenching screams scares me.
Not for myself. No.
For him.
I’m at a loss for what to do. Not wanting to startle him in his sleep, I try to think over my racing heartbeat.
He might need something soothing, something calm. I sing the lullaby my mom would sing for me. The one that would scare away all my demons, whether I was a child or a teenager.
So, I hope the soft tune will work for him, though he’s an adult.
He’s on his stomach, so I run a soothing palm over his back, my fingers running over his jagged scars. Scars, I think, have something to do with his nightmares.
Soon, his body stops convulsing, and he again finds his sleep, his harsh breaths evening out.
But I don’t.
Not when every cell in my body demands answers. Answers that would help me find who hurt him. So, I can hurt them back and take away all of his pain.
I’m not vengeful. No.
But for Noah, I don’t mind becoming someone’s worst nightmare.
* * *
By the time Noah wakes up the next morning, I’ve fed Millie, brewed some coffee, and taken a shower.
My body is aching, my cheeks sore whenever I try to sit down. I want to revel in the bliss of yesterday. My toes curl just remembering how his lips feel on mine, my walls clench remembering just how good he fills me up.
But no matter how much every atom in my body is screaming to get the answers out of Noah, I can’t. Not after what happened the last time. The last time I asked him about his dad, I left his home with tears in my eyes.
And though I know neither that was his intention then, nor would it be now. So, it’s better not to pry into his life. If he wanted to tell me, he would.
We might’ve kissed, slept with each other again, but I still don’t know what we are. Better if I remember my place.
Noah finds me in the kitchen, sitting on the counter in one of his shirts.
He pads out into the living room in a black vest, and his gray shorts hang low on his waist. He rakes a hand through his messy hair, and when he does, the hem of his vest lifts, giving me a delicious peek into his happy trail.
My stomach flips at the sight, and I sip on the coffee a little too quickly, forgetting it’s piping hot. I hiss at the burn in my throat, my eyes scrunching shut at the pain.
Noah is in front of me with a glass of cold milk within a second. “Be careful with yourself, Rainbow,” he scolds, worry evident in his tone as his brows furrow in concern.
He takes the mug from me and nods at me to drink the milk instead. The instant relief at the soothing effect has me moaning.
When my eyes flutter open, it’s to see Noah’s pinned on my lips. My lips lift in a smile, loving that he’s not hiding it.
Though what he is hiding is the nightmare he experienced.
Either he doesn’t remember having it since he didn’t wake up then, or he thinks I don’t know he had one.
Either way, he doesn’t want to tell me about it.
He’s not ready to share, and I would never force him to share something so private about himself.
“You can kiss me, you know,” I say, shrugging my shoulders as one collar slides down.
“Oh, thank fuck,” he sighs if I gave him the key to the dang Buckingham Palace. Taking the glass from my hand and placing it down on the counter beside us, he slams his lips to mine, swallowing my surprised moan.
His fingers tangle in my hair as I pull on the roots of his. His broad body adjusts itself between my thighs.
God, I never want him to stop kissing me.
“God, I never want to stop kissing you,” he whispers against my mouth, his tongue delving back in my mouth.
Sometimes, I feel like his soul and mine are the same, with how accurately he reads me and my unsaid thoughts.
I should’ve stayed away, should’ve known not to fall for him. But as he sucks my lips into his mouth, I worry it might already be too late.
We’re lost in each other’s warm embrace and plump lips when Millie thinks it’s a good time to remind us of her presence.
She scratches down Noah’s leg. “Motherfucker!” he curses into my mouth, begrudgingly pulling back when she continues to mark him.
I try to cover the giggle that escapes me, but fail miserably.
“Laugh all you want. It’s your ass that’ll bear the consequences,” he grumbles, picking up the cat as it climbs over his shoulder and makes itself at home.
I gasp at the words that tumble out of his mouth. Two can play this game, I think, when I see a smug smile on his face as he rubs the cat’s fur. And so, my next words have the desired effect when his eyes widen, and he curses under his breath.
“I’ll be waiting, daddy.”