Chapter 19 #2
Noah pried one eye open as he looked over at me. “That was sex, kitten. And some pretty excellent sex at that if I do say so myself.”
I slapped his arm and rolled my eyes. “No kidding, Noah. I mean…” My voice trailed off as I lost the courage to say what I meant. Dammit, Jules. Why was it so hard?
Noah squeezed his arm around me, and I looked at him and felt reassured enough to be an adult and get my words out.
“Okay…” Deep breaths. “At the end there, it was like I had an orgasm but also not the same. It was warmth throughout my whole body, just like it felt amazing.” Gathering some more courage, I continued.
“Like, I’m thirty years old, Noah. This isn’t the first time I’ve had sex.
And, as you know, unlike the majority of the population, I even write about people doing that.
But whatever that was at the end, I’ve never experienced it before. ”
Noah rolled us both to our sides and put his finger under my chin, tilting it up and placing the barest of kisses on my lips. “One, how is it you can write sex scenes in your books and, from what I can tell, not be the most comfortable talking about it in real life?”
I looked down and mumbled my answer. “I drink wine or beer.”
Noah’s laughter filled the room. “I’m sorry, did you say you have a drink before writing a scene like this in your books?”
I met his amused look with a stubborn one of my own. “Well, it works.”
He pulled me to him and gave me a lingering hug that soothed my soul.
“I’m not making fun of you, Jules. I love that you’ve found whatever you need to do to make it work.
” His lips kissed my bare shoulder. “And I’m not an expert on the female body, but I think what you’re describing is a vaginal orgasm, which I believe but could be wrong, feels different than a clitoral orgasm. ”
“Whoa,” I said, contemplating all the miracles that our bodies had for us. And then, as my brain was wont to do, I immediately began to contemplate how I could work this into a book.
After a few moments, Noah squeezed my waist. “Did I lose you there?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, I began to think about writing.”
A huff of laughter came from him. “Should I expect to see this scene in a book one day?”
“No, not this scene. Like I told you, I don’t write my actual life, especially in sex scenes.”
“But…”
I bit my lower lip and looked up before continuing. “Maybe the way you made me feel or the confidence you gave me?”
His smile was immediate and soft. “I’d love that.” He rolled over and picked up his phone, looking at the lock screen, then rolled back to me. “It’s ten. Do you want to go to bed, or do you want to write a little?”
My heart rate rose at his question as I looked up with what I knew was incredulity. “You don’t care if I write?”
He wrinkled his brows as he looked at me in confusion. “Why would I care?”
I shrugged, trying to examine where that feeling was coming from in me.
“I’m not sure.” I paused, and then a memory came to mind.
“I guess the last guy I dated seriously, Bryon, expressed his displeasure to me when, during tax season, I needed to work late into the night. He said I wasn’t prioritizing our relationship and broke up with me shortly after that.
So maybe that made a bigger impact than I thought? ”
“When was that?”
I gave that a few seconds of thought. Wow, I hadn’t thought of Bryon for a while. “Two years ago. I was crushed at the time, but upon reflection we absolutely weren’t right for each other, and he did me a favor.”
“Sorry that happened. And yeah, if you were neglecting your health—meaning sleep—for weeks on end while also choosing work, writing or accounting, over me every single time, then we might need to talk. But when you’re inspired”—he waggled his brows at me—“feel free to pick up your laptop.”
I laughed but then sobered, feeling the tendrils of inspiration for my story flowing through my veins. “Um, if you don’t mind, I’d love to grab my laptop. Not that you should get too full of yourself, mister, but I do have some ideas I’d love to get down while they’re actually in my brain.”
He rolled toward me and brushed my mouth. “One request.”
“Name it.”
“Are you able to write in bed? Like sitting here while I sleep? Because I’m beat, but I’d love to go to bed to the music of you typing out a story.
” His expression was one I’d only seen a few times from him—all while we’d been up here dealing with everything to do with his parents—he was tentative, unsure.
Like he was verbalizing what he wanted but was didn’t know if it would matter.
That was a learned behavior, and my heart hurt for the little boy who didn’t get what he needed from the people he should have been able to expect it from.
I was also grateful to Mary because without her, I think his childhood would have been devoid of any type of affection.
“I can absolutely type in here.”
Noah’s smile was bright and instantaneous.
He hopped out of bed before I could say anything and moved across the room to grab my laptop from where it was charging on a dresser.
He hesitated, then also grabbed my AirPods.
Sliding back in next to me, he handed both over.
“I think I’ve seen you with your earbuds in when you’ve been writing,” he said by way of an explanation for bringing them as well.
“Yeah, I listen to a different playlist for each book,” I explained, unbelievably touched that not only had he paid attention but cared enough to try to ensure I had everything I needed.
He leaned over to turn off the lamp on his side of the bed, then slid down and got comfortable next to me.
“Do you need my lamp off?” I asked.
“Nope. Benefit of my work in Africa and our sleeping quarters where people were working different shifts is that I can sleep through anything.” He paused, then looked up. “Do we need to talk about tonight though? I just realized we got a bit offtrack. Because I loved what happened here.”
I gave him a soft smile. “I did too. Thanks for checking in.”
“Enough for a repeat?”
I raised my brows at him. “Right now?”
He snorted. “No. I need to sleep; you need to write. But soon?”
I nodded. “Soon.” I leaned down and gave him a quick kiss.
I woke my computer and opened my current novel, then read over what I’d written earlier that day and thought of what needed to happen next.
With a glance to my left, I noted that Noah was already out.
I pulled up my playlist on my phone, made sure the volume was set low enough he wouldn’t hear it through my earbuds, and focused on letting the story flow out.
Ahead of us we had a funeral, decisions about dating, and my secret profession that needed to be shared with those I cared about.
But for now it was just me with these characters and a man I was growing all too fond of who supported me with his mere presence in a way I hadn’t known existed out of the fictional worlds I created.