Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
CADE
Noah arrives on my doorstep just after eight, the porch light catching the sharp lines of his jaw and the subtle confidence in his shoulders.
He’s got what appears to be an overnight bag slung over one arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if coming to my house for a tawdry sleepover is completely normal and totally fine.
Oh, just got my overnight bag, you know, for Cade’s place.
I stare at that bag for a moment as my stomach does a slow, traitorous flip.
I’m still in the button-down I wore to campus, sleeves rolled up, glasses slightly fogged from the steam of the tea I tried to drink to calm my nerves.
Tried, but failed, because every time peace finds me, I remember Noah in our office, gripping the side of the desk, warning me to go.
I remember the cold lock between my fingers as I twisted it, and boldly stayed.
Stayed to watch, stayed to feel alive. The last few weeks with Noah have entirely rewritten every cell in my body.
He did change my world forever, he was right.
And I want more.
“Hey,” I manage, voice quieter than I want as I pull open the door, double checking with a glance that I did indeed change my slacks. “Come in.”
Noah steps inside, filling the narrow hallway of my redone Victorian with his height and the faint scent of him, and something else, something warm like rain melting into hot skin. He sets the bag down with a soft thud and my eyes drop to it immediately.
“Is that… an overnight bag?” I ask, feeling so incredibly awkward.
Noah’s mouth curves into a slow, devastating smile. “Yes.” He steps nearer, his breath dusting my nose. “We’re having a sleepover, Cade.”
Heat floods my face. I open my mouth, close it, push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “I— That wasn’t— We didn’t discuss—”
He laughs softly, slowly, the sound curling around my ribs like smoke.
I love his voice, and I really love his laugh, even if it’s currently making me nervous.
Before I can retreat into the safety of my kitchen and bury my nerves in a glass of bourbon or mug of tea, my phone vibrates on the entry table.
Then it rings, loud and shrill in the quiet between us.
I glance at the called ID. Zennie. She and my sister are probably calling for an update on this very situation. Though Noah is none the wiser, just the idea of it makes me anxious, and heat colors my cheeks as I reach for the phone.
“Sorry, just— one second.” I fumble to silence it, but my thumb slips and the voicemail kicks in on speakerphone for two agonizing seconds.
“Cade, it’s Zennie. You better not be avoiding this. Let me know if you finally talked to Noah—”
I jam my finger on the screen so hard the phone nearly flies out of my hand. Silence crashes back in and my ears throb with the thrashing of my pulse, beating hard and frantic as embarrassment licks my cheeks.
I glance up, finding Noah’s eyes are dark, filled with amusement. The little twitch of his crooked smile is teasing, like he knows far too much. He steps closer, close enough that I can see the faint stubble along his jaw. “Talk to me about what, Cade?”
I shake my head, backing up until my shoulders hit the wall. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” Lies, and bad ones at that.
He presses me, moving into my space, unhurried.
His fingers brush my chin, tilting my face up, toward his.
My heart is absolutely hammering, and I nudge my glasses in the center of the frame out of habit.
Noah leans in and kisses the spot just beneath my pulse, along my throat, soft and deliberate. My breath catches.
“About what?” he murmurs against my skin, pressing me for more. Always pressing.
I swallow hard. The rule-follower in me screams to shut this down, to cite department policy, to remember I’ve only just realized I want him and that this could destroy the careful life I’ve built. But my body is already leaning into him, traitor that it is.
Noah’s mouth moves down my throat, lips brushing against my frantic, hungry pulse. “About what?” he asks again, voice velvet but rough, the perfect cocktail.
A helpless sound escapes me. His hands are on my shirt now, deft fingers working the buttons open one by one.
Cool air hits my chest as he pushes the fabric off my shoulders.
I shiver, but I’m not cold. I’m hot, my skin on fire with need as his confident hands disrobe and touch me.
Noah palms my chest, thumb circling one nipple until it tightens under his touch, sending sparks straight down my spine.
I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe we’re doing this.
I’m so happy he’s here. I’m so glad we’re doing this.
“About what, Cade?” he whispers, then kisses me on the mouth—soft, teasing, barely there. Hardly a kiss, and yet, the best kiss of my fucking life. A kiss loaded with promise, laced with torment.
I break. “About us,” I whisper, barely audible.
Noah hums approval against my lips. He sinks lower, kissing a trail down my sternum, over my stomach, tongue dipping briefly into my navel. Sparks skitter along my arms and down my legs, and my groin burns with need. My hands move uselessly at my sides.
“What about us?” he asks, voice muffled against my skin. Noah’s mouth is on my skin. Noah has seen my cock, he’s stroked us together, he’s made me cum.
Noah Ryan wants me.
I shake my head, trying to push at his shoulders, but there’s no force in it.
“Noah, we can’t— I don’t even know what I’m doing.
This is insane. We haven’t talked about what we’re doing and I’ve never—” My voice breaks, and reason fails me.
Instead of the reasons why we should slow down, why we should talk, I break and let the wall fall down, and my truth slip out. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”
A smile curves his full lips at my admission, and he doesn’t stop. His fingers work my belt open with practiced ease, then my zipper. When he frees my cock, already hard and aching, I stop fighting entirely.
Noah slowly lowers to both knees, positioning himself before me, my cock weeping in his hands. The sight of him on his knees in my house, looking up at me with those dark eyes, is too much.
“Ask what you need to ask, Cade,” he says, voice low. His tongue flicks out, tracing the head of my cock in a slow, wet circle. My hips jerk, twitching forward involuntarily.
I blink down at him, trembling. “Do you… like me?” The words feel ridiculous, humiliatingly juvenile, but they claw their way out anyway. “As more than friends?”
Noah doesn’t answer with words. He takes me into his mouth in one smooth glide, all the way down until his nose brushes my pelvis. The wet heat, the tight suction, the way his throat works around me—it rips a broken moan from my chest. He pulls back slowly, lips glistening, and looks up at me.
“What do you think?” he asks, voice rough.
But he must see it—the insecurity flickering in my eyes, the fear that this is pity or a game or something he’ll regret tomorrow and I’ll remember forever.
Because Noah stands up, cups my face in both hands, and kisses me deep and slow and devastating.
His tongue slides against mine like he’s banishing every doubt I’ve ever had. About me, and us.
“I’ve been waiting for you to want me back, Cade Mercer,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Been waiting so fucking long.”
Then he drops to his knees again, and this time there’s no teasing. This time he means it.
He takes me back into his mouth with a hungry sound that vibrates through my bones and leaves me shaky.
He wraps a hand around the base, stroking my shaft in time with the bob of his head.
The other hand slides up my thigh, gripping my hip to hold me steady as my knees threaten to buckle.
His tongue swirls around the head on every upstroke, pressing into the sensitive spot beneath it until I’m panting, fingers threading gently through his hair without meaning to, without realizing.
“Oh god,” I choke out. “Noah— Noah—”
He hums again, taking me deeper, relaxing his throat so I slide in further, nudge inside him deeper.
The wet, obscene sounds fill my house—sucking, licking, the soft choke when he pushes his limits.
Saliva drips down my shaft, slicking his fist as he twists on every other stroke.
My hips jerk forward and he lets me, encourages it with a guiding hand on my ass, urging me to fuck his mouth.
I can’t believe this is happening. And I can’t believe how insane it feels.
It feels so good.
His mouth feels so fucking good.
I’m shaking. Actually shaking, thighs trembling, one hand braced against the wall while the other cups his cheek.
My thumb strokes along his jaw where it stretches around me, feeling the flex of muscle, the way his stubble scrapes my palm.
He looks up at me through dark lashes, eyes glassy with lust, and the sight undoes me completely.
“You’re so—” I can’t finish. My voice cracks into a whimper as he sucks harder, hollowing his cheeks.
Pleasure coils tight and vicious at the base of my spine.
I’ve never felt anything like this. The wet heat, the perfect pressure, the way he seems to know exactly how to unravel me.
I’m in utter heaven, floating and falling all at once.
My fingers trace his cheekbone, gentle even as my hips stutter. “Noah,” I gasp. “I’m— I can’t— I’m going to—”
He doesn’t pull off. If anything, he doubles down, sucking me with filthy dedication, tongue working relentlessly. His other hand slips between my legs to cup my balls, rolling them gently, and that’s it.
The coil snaps.
I come with a broken cry, hips jerking as pleasure crashes through me in heavy, pulsing waves. Noah swallows around me, taking every drop, throat working until I’m empty and oversensitive and shaking.
My hand stays on his face, thumb brushing his cheek in dazed, reverent strokes as the last tremors roll through me.
He pulls off slowly, pressing one last soft kiss to the head of my cock before tucking me away with surprising tenderness. And again, Noah keeps me on my toes with all the unexpected pieces of him.
He rises, wraps his arms around me, and holds me up when my legs finally give out. I bury my face in his neck, breathing hard, heart thundering against his chest. This embrace is almost more intimate than what he just did.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you, Cade.”
We stay like that for a long moment, my bare chest pressed to his clothed one, his hands stroking soothing circles up and down my back.
The overnight bag sits forgotten by the door, a silent promise of everything still to come.
My mind is a whirlwind—panic and bliss and that deep, aching want I’ve only just begun to understand—but Noah’s arms keep me anchored.
Eventually he pulls back enough to kiss me again, slow and sweet, letting me taste myself on his tongue. The intimacy of it makes fresh heat bloom low in my belly despite how thoroughly he just devoured me.
“Come on,” he says against my lips. “Let’s go upstairs. Our sleepover is just getting started.”
I let him lead me, fingers tangled with his, heart still racing. For the first time in my careful, rule-bound life, I don’t want to run. I want to see what happens next. Even if it terrifies me. Especially because it terrifies me.
And Noah—god, Noah—looks at me like he knows exactly how deep I’m already in.
Like he’s been waiting for this version of me all along.