Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
NOAH
Morning light filters through the half-drawn curtains of Cade’s bedroom, soft and golden, painting his skin in warm shades that make my chest tighten.
He lies curled against me, one arm draped possessively across my waist, his breathing steady and deep.
For the first time in five days, peace settles over his features—no furrowed brow, no tension in his jaw. Just quiet contentment.
Finally.
I trace a fingertip along the line of his shoulder, marveling at the way his body responds even in sleep, leaning into my touch.
Last night’s Bay Area rain has given way to a clear, crisp morning, but the memory of standing soaked on his porch, reading those old words aloud, still lingers like electricity under my skin.
He opened up to me so beautifully. Let me in so completely.
Cade stirs, lashes fluttering. Those vibrant blue eyes find mine, and the smile that curves his lips is shy but real.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and satisfaction.
“Best morning I’ve had in a long time,” I reply, rolling us so I’m half over him, our legs tangled beneath the sheets. His body is warm, pliant, still marked faintly from my mouth in places only we’ll see. Same with mine, and I love it. “How do you feel?”
“Hungover but ready for more.” He reaches up, cupping the back of my neck to pull me down into a slow, deep kiss.
There’s no frantic edge this time—just lazy, easy connection.
Tongues sliding, breaths mingling, hands roaming with affection.
When we part, his eyes are darker, heated.
“Morning fun? I hear that’s a thing for couples. ”
The words send a bolt of pure want through me.
After last night’s emotional intensity, this morning feels like a celebration.
We briefly use the sink to clean up before slipping back into bed.
I kiss down his body with deliberate care, savoring every hitch in his breath as I map the planes of his chest, the dip of his navel, the sharp cut of his hips.
When I take him into my mouth, he arches with a groan that shoots straight to my cock.
“Fuck, Noah… your mouth.”
I work him patiently, tongue swirling, one hand stroking his shaft while the other teases between his legs. He pants, his legs thrash, and just a few minutes later, he comes, with a broken version of my name echoing warmly over me. I swallow every drop of him.
He tugs me up immediately, kissing me deeply as his hand wraps around my aching length. A few expert strokes—learned so beautifully over these weeks—and I’m spilling over his fingers with a guttural groan, forehead pressed to his.
“Is this normal? How much we can’t stop getting each other off?” he asks with a crooked grin, nudging his glasses up his nose with a curled knuckle after we cleaned me up and got out of bed.
He pulls clothes from the drawer, and throws them at me, grabbing some for himself next.
I tug on his shirt, and love how it exposes a touch of my belly.
I like that Cade is just a little smaller than me, but still fit and capable.
“I can’t envision ever getting tired of what I just did for you,” I dance my eyebrows, and love how he stiffens in his sweats that he just pulled on.
He grins. “I can’t either.” There’s a loud knock at the door, and Cade veers to the window, tugging the gauzy curtain back to peer down at his stoop. “It’s my dad. And Juliette.”
“Are they an item?” I ask, pulling on the sweats he gave me. Luckily, it looks like our legs are the same length, because the pants fit. I follow after him down the stairs.
“Yeah, they are. He was celibate since my mom died. Until her.”
I stop in my tracks, thinking back to all of the magazine covers and TV interviews I’ve seen of Cade’s dad, one of the more well-known millionaires in San Francisco’s intimate, downtown neighborhoods. “Seriously?”
Cade strokes a hand through his messy hair.
“Yeah. And I’ll tell you all about it later.
” He pulls open the door where Ford, dark hair with touches of silver, dressed in a wool peacoat and dress slacks, stands beaming.
His arm is linked with Juliette’s, and she’s wearing a coat identical to his.
Cade steps out and kisses Juliette on the cheek, then shakes his father’s hand, so I do the same.
I take Juliette into the kitchen to start coffee while Cade and Ford stand near the hearth, talking quietly.
At one point, Ford stretches his hand along Cade's shoulders and neck, and gives him a squeeze. I don’t know Ford and yet, I can’t imagine a world in which Ford Mercer isn’t a super good dad. I mean, Cade’s so awesome. Kat, too.
I doctor up a mug for Juliette, waiting for the coffee to percolate. “So you guys worked it all out?”
She laughs, her cheeks claiming some color. “I’m so embarrassed about that night. I’m usually so private and–”
I slip into the barstool next to hers and pat her hand. “Love makes us do wild things sometimes, doesn't it?”
She smiles. “I guess so.” She peers back at Cade and Ford, still talking, and looks back to me, green eyes wide. “So are you two…?”
I nod. “We are very much together.” I let out a sigh, and drop my head into my palm, blinking at Juliette. “I liked him for so long. I almost can’t believe he’s mine.”
She pats my hand. “Oh honey, tell me about it.”
When the coffee is done, I pour us each some and Juliette tells me about her current photography project, and how the fashion show here in the city went. While I’m making toast, Ford and Cade reenter the space, both of them wearing easy smiles.
My heart swells.
Juliette slips out of her seat, but Ford eases her back down with a hand to her shoulder. “You don’t have to rush on my account.” He cuts me a look. “Noah, this is my girlfriend Juliette. Juliette, I see you have been getting acquainted with Cade’s boyfriend, Noah.”
We fall into easy conversation, while Cade makes eggs Benedict, another round of coffee, and plates fruit like a chef. The morning is slow, and in my belly shirt and Cade’s sweats, I find the beginnings of a great relationship with Ford and Juliette.
After spending the weekend in my apartment, we drive to campus together in my car on Monday, windows down, letting the fresh post-rain air cleanse us. We’ve showered a lot this weekend but it was nonetheless pleasantly filthy.
His hand rests on my thigh the entire way, quietly reminding me of how far I’ve come, and I don’t mean in understanding myself. I mean in not getting a raging hard-on every single time he touches me. I’ve never been that way with anyone but Cade.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m hard, but at least I’ll be able to walk when we get there.
When we park and start walking toward the annex, I thread our fingers together openly. Cade squeezes once, then we relax into it, and it takes less than a moment to feel natural. Completely.
The annex buzzes with the usual Monday morning energy—students chatting over huge coffees, some rushing to their first, even second class.
A few heads turn as we pass, eyebrows lifting at our joined hands.
Whispers will follow, of course. But standing beside Cade, feeling the steady warmth of his palm against mine, none of it matters.
None of it ever mattered to me—but I’m happy that it no longer matters to Cade now either.
We reach our office door. I unlock it and hold it open for him with a dramatic little bow that makes him laugh—the sound I’ve missed more than air these past five days.
The long weekend together was a good start at refilling my tank, but I can already tell, the days we force ourselves to be apart simply because we’re afraid of moving too fast? Those days are gonna be fucking awful.
Once inside, we hit our normal routine. Bags off, lamps on with the blinds open.
He starts his laptop and I do the same. We check phone messages, then emails.
Sunlight jumps through the blinds, landing across the bookshelves.
I get up at one point and close the door, to block out the loud students in the hallway.
Eventually, he has a student meeting. And then I get pulled into some… thing. I don’t even know what. Because I’m in a lovesick haze.
On our way out, Dr. Pratt stops us and invites us to his barbeque over the weekend, and slips me his wife’s number to receive my assigned recipe.
“It’s not a potluck. It’s a Kathleen Pratt-assigned feeding frenzy.
” He beams when discussing her. “But we have a great time. It’s a regular thing.
” He looks between us. “You both would have been invited individually but this makes it easier.” He wags a finger.
“If it doesn’t work out, you’re not changing offices.
And I wish I was kidding but Mulroney just signed on for another five years. ”
I shake my head. “That old shit.”
Cade’s brows pull together. We haven’t discussed Mulroney, but it’s possible they have beef. I nudge him. “What?”
He looks at Dr. Pratt. “It’s gonna work out. You’ll be buying us a toaster or electric wine cork remover at some point in the future.”
That was by far the hottest thing Cade has ever said, and the most unexpected thing, too. I’m actually kinda hard right now. Dr. Pratt laughs, and shakes Cade’s hand. “I hope so. But you’re wrong about the electric wine cork remover. I’d never buy that. Those suck.”
Then the three of us end up catching a late meal, discussing the symposium, class schedules, and new peer reviews for hours. Me, Cade and the head of our department. Cade kisses me on the cheek twice during the evening, and I swear I’m so drunk off of life I feel like proposing.