New York, New York #4
She was close enough to breathe him in. His jaw was clenched, and he was inhaling hard through his nose. Heat cycled off his chest like a reactor. As AJ looked up into his incensed eyes, she felt the tiniest pulse from the depths of that shadowy mass, a distant flare, the spark of a fuse.
“Fuck the plan. Noah,” she said softly. “What do you want?”
In an instant, his hands were on her waist, pulling her flush against his groin. AJ felt hunger pang between her legs. She gasped as his left arm encircled her back, his right hand whisking aside the front flap of her dress. His face was an inch from hers, his pupils so dilated his eyes were black.
He went straight to her senses, his scent, the heat of his hand smoothing over her hip to the small of her back, then over her bare ass. He was checking whether she was wearing underwear, which she wasn’t, thanks to Libby’s snark. His eyelids sank as he confirmed this for himself.
“I knew it,” he muttered. He was looking at her lips now, and AJ was glad he was holding her; her legs were about to give. He inclined his face toward hers, scanning.
“Was that…okay?” he asked, suddenly shy. AJ could feel his heart through their clothing. The anger was gone from his eyes. Instead he looked…starved. He looked like how she felt.
AJ held his gaze. She nodded. Noah swallowed, momentarily stunned.
Then he was walking her backward toward the couch.
AJ heard a scraping sound as he shoved the coffee table out of the way with his knee.
She fell onto the cushions, and he knelt down, his hands running up her calves then catching the back of her knees and pulling her forward so her ass was on the edge of the seat.
AJ felt a thrum of anticipation as he stared at the place where her wrap dress now dangled between her legs, two limp black corners. Slowly, he ran his hands over her knees and up the inside of her thighs, stopping right at the flaps.
“Is this okay?” he asked, glancing up at her. AJ nodded again.
The dress fell open at the push of his fingers, and his hands roved over her hips and down her back, grasping her buttocks, pulling her close. AJ felt him shudder as his lips pressed into her pubic bone. He lifted her toward him and inhaled.
Holy shit.
Then he tasted her, and AJ felt the waters of her body stir. Oh. Noah tasted her again, more fully this time, and groaned like he had craved this, like he had dreamed of her swelling and rising on his tongue.
AJ had never particularly enjoyed this act, mostly because she felt too exposed—it left too little to do and too much to worry about.
She should have known it would be different with Noah.
He was curious and thorough and so unbelievably intense.
Slowly, methodically, he caressed her, noting every flutter, every sigh.
He was figuring her out—of course he was, he always had before.
With one long, calculated stroke, he sent a lick of heat straight through her core.
“Fuck,” she gasped, and felt his concentration deepen.
AJ couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was beautiful, but it was her disbelief that held her captive. How was this even happening? She couldn’t catch her breath. Each flick of his tongue wound her tighter and tighter.
He met her eyes, and AJ felt his hand trace the slick of her seam, heard him exhale as she ripened at his touch. As he slipped a finger inside her, she shook.
“Oh my God,” he breathed.
AJ was making sounds she didn’t recognize—she was mewing, and Noah was sipping at her like she was his first drink in days, and AJ had never ached like this for anyone.
Her muscles were starting to clench now. Noah felt it too, and he swore under his breath, then gave her another finger.
But she could not let go. She had spent so long tamping down her desire for him that now, on the verge of release, she found herself panicked by how badly she wanted him and how easily this could slip away.
Noah felt her struggling. “AJ,” he said. His other hand found hers. He held her gaze. “Trust me.”
His voice. Within seconds, her thighs began to shake. Noah was ready; he slowed his movements, steadily bringing her closer, and closer, until—
“I’m gonna come,” she whispered, and she heard him moan from deep in his throat, and a brilliant sensation chimed through her, a startling, breathless pleasure.
Noah’s hands wrapped around her hips, soothing her. AJ was gone. She was nothing but the feel of him gently lowering her back onto the couch, then pressing his lips into her upper thigh.
“Ah,” she shivered.
Noah seemed surprised. He did it again. Again, AJ vibrated. He was tuning her like a crystal now, making her nerves sing at the slightest brush of his fingers, of his lips. AJ reached down to touch his cheek, and his hand closed around hers as he took her back into his mouth.
His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in devotion. He was kneeling before her, a pilgrim at the source, confessing it all, his longing and his terror, and AJ’s body was listening, opening, giving. As he parted her, searching for the rhythm she wanted, she arched against him in answer.
His hands were grasping her now, holding her open as he pressed his tongue inside her. AJ was close again, so close that every stroke was painful. She writhed, bending, his breath hot along her center. She felt him groan, and she flitted, flickered, and for an instant, she burned bright.
As she faded back into herself, she became aware of him, of his body, of his arousal, a heavy bulge against her right shin.
She sat up slow, her dress drooping closed, to find Noah in a state between her legs.
He was murmuring incoherently into her right thigh.
She lifted his face and found his eyes ablaze.
He took her hand and pressed his lips to the tender part of her wrist.
Then AJ slid off the couch, onto her knees, so she was between his legs. He leaned forward, gripping the cushion behind her for support, his erection tenting his pants. As AJ reached for him, he closed a warning hand around her wrist.
“I’m not in control.”
AJ could see the strain in his neck, the way he was panting, his lips parted, and she looked into his beautiful dark eyes and thought, Good.
Maybe she even said it out loud because his grip loosened long enough for her to find him, to feel him twitch beneath her palm. As she closed her hand, Noah convulsed.
There wasn’t time to even unbutton his pants, he was already coming. He swore, burying his face in her neck, his whole body trembling into her as a warm spot bloomed beneath her fingers.
They stayed that way for a long moment, entwined like a pair of inosculated trees. AJ memorized the weight of his head on her shoulder, the softness of his hair against her cheek, the wordless vulnerability of his hand tentatively tracing her hip, as though unsure of his welcome.
When Noah pulled back from her, there were tears in his eyes. “I never thought I’d get to—” He cut himself off.
AJ took his hand in both of hers. She wanted to tell him that seeing him unravel like that had been the most erotic experience of her life. Instead she said, “I hope you like your dry cleaner.”
A laugh escaped his lips like air from a tire, and he bent forward, enfolding her in his arms. Yes. Even worn and spent he was so strong. AJ could feel his breath in her hair, and she closed her eyes. His heartbeat was a homecoming.
“Want to shower?” he asked, and AJ nodded.
Together they turned off the lamps and Noah led her to the second floor. She followed him past older residential rooms to a new wing at the end of the hall. Noah pushed into a large steel gray bedroom with a king bed and modern light fixtures. This was his.
He led her into an impressive marble bathroom that had both a soaking tub and a standing glass shower and turned on the water.
AJ didn’t understand how tired she was until she realized that he was helping her out of her dress and easing the barrette out of her hair.
He stripped naked and opened the door, and the two of them got in.
Carefully, he positioned her beneath the shower head so his back wouldn’t block the water from reaching her.
As he lathered shampoo into her hair then his, she watched droplets bead along his collarbone.
He was less beefy than he’d been six years ago, but just as broad and well toned.
As his hands rinsed out her hair, AJ melted into his chest, warmth pouring down her back.
She might have nodded off standing right there, because the next thing she remembered was him helping her on with one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxer briefs and crawling into his bed.
Her eyes were already shut when the bedside lamp clicked off, and the last thing she remembered was his arm closing around her middle and drawing her body into his.
The next morning, when Noah nuzzled her cheek and whispered that he needed to let the dog out, AJ actually felt annoyed. She thought she was being woken from a dream.
It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when she opened her eyes and saw sunlight filtering into the soft gray room, that she remembered. She was at Drew House, and that hadn’t been a dream.
It was the real Noah Drew.
AJ was still in his clothes as she crept barefoot down the hall.
She had never been at Drew House so early in the day, and the sunlight painted the entryway like a chapel.
The grandfather clock had stopped during the night; as AJ descended the grand staircase, its unwound hands stood fixed at 12:13.
Noah was still out when AJ entered the kitchen. She helped herself to a glass from the cabinet, filled it with water from the pitcher in the fridge, took a seat at the quartz-topped island, and felt her heart rate spike at the intense strangeness of this situation.