14. Edward
EDWARD
We clink glasses and take a swing of the bubbly liquid in our flutes. I lean forward and set mine on a coaster on the coffee table. Noelle takes another sip and does the same.
"Champagne tastes even better with victory." I beam.
She chuckles. "It does. But it's only a partial victory."
"Ah, yes." I purse my lips. "J&J remains."
"Cartly went to plan because it was our ruse. J&J is Graham's?—"
"Allegedly," I chime in.
"Zachary told you to say that?"
"Only to be safe."
Noelle snickers, covering her mouth with her hands.
We've already downed half the bottle, and our loosened demeanor is proof the alcohol is starting to do its work.
I don't know if that's why, but I find myself less inclined to keep picking apart what happened in that boardroom.
The whole thing had only earned Graham a suspension while the board brought in a third party to investigate his office further.
Even that was a grace the board extended at our father's behest. Typically, they'd be moving to strip Graham of his shares. So in a way, the victory was still dampened by our father’s unwillingness to accept that his golden child was as bent as a crooked cop.
But that was hours ago. Now, in the cover of darkness, in my home, with Noelle sitting across from me, my thoughts are considerably less professional. The last time we were in this exact setting, things escalated. We never talked about it afterward. Now feels as good a time as any.
What's the worst that could happen?
"Why did you leave that day?"
Her face goes serious. "What are you on about?"
"The night of the gala." I sit upright and face her squarely. "Why did you have to leave?"
"Because I had to work the next day, and I'd been drinking."
I pause, breathe, recalibrate. Pick my words carefully. "So it's not because you felt disgusted. Or like I'd taken advantage of the situation."
A scowl forms on her face like I've just insulted her. "Do I look like a victim to you?"
"What's that got?—"
"Just answer the damn question, Edward."
I shake my head. "No."
"Good." She shuffles closer on the settee, eyes not leaving mine.
"Because I'm not. Not after what your brother did to me, not after losing everything to him.
I'm not in the habit of being a victim. Shit happens, and sometimes it's sad.
But that's about it. The world keeps spinning.
The sun doesn't stop shining. So why should I sit in the dust? "
"This feels a tad off-topic."
"It's not." Her tone is firm. "You may have initiated things that night, but I would have stopped you if I wasn't keen myself. And I took charge at certain points, if my memory serves me right. So where do you get off thinking I was helpless against you?"
"I didn't?—"
"We were willing adults who had sex. The end."
"Right." I look away, suddenly embarrassed about having lugged this around for days.
"Just because the night didn't end how you'd imagined doesn't mean something was wrong."
"It was just so sudden. How you left."
"Yeah? You wanted to cuddle all night? Have pillow talk?"
I can't help but chuckle. "You make it sound like the worst things in the world."
"They're not." Her expression softens. "But the timing wasn't right."
"Glad that's cleared up." I offer a small smile and reach for my glass. The cool liquid clashes with the warmth sitting in my chest.
"Kiss me," she says when I set it back down.
"What?"
Noelle reaches out and grabs my tie, pulling slowly until my face hovers just above hers. Her gaze drops to my mouth. "Don't make me ask again."
I oblige.
The kiss starts off soft, my lips barely pressing into hers.
Then she pulls tighter until I kiss her harder, my hand coming up to cup her jaw, tilting her face up toward mine.
Only then does she let go, fingers traveling up my chest, gripping the lapel of my jacket, pulling me closer like the inch of space between us is still too much.
My other hand finds the curve of her waist and I pull her closer, grabbing a fistful of her butt in the process.
She moans in my mouth, and I kiss her deeper.
Noelle resumes kissing me again when unapologetic abandon, hands sliding up the back of my neck and into my hair, sending sensations traveling down my spine.
I pull back just enough to breathe, my forehead dropping to hers, both of us still.
"Good timing?" I murmur.
She pulls back further and looks at me, the mischievous glint from two days ago returning in her eyes. "Show me your bedroom."
I hold her gaze for a beat, then stand and extend my hand. She takes it. The hallway is quiet, the house dim around us as I lead her through it. I push the bedroom door open and step aside.
The door has barely shut behind us when she lunges at me.
I catch her instinctively, her legs wrapping around my waist, her hands finding my face as she pulls my mouth back to hers.
I walk us forward, her weight easy against me, kissing her until my toes kiss the padded frame of the bed. I lean forward and let go.
She drops onto the mattress, her hair fanning out beneath her. I brace a hand either side of her and lower myself down. Our mouths crash together, hungrier now, the careful restraint from the living room burned away. She bites my lower lip, and I groan.
Her fingers work my tie loose, then attack the buttons of my shirt.
I shrug out of my jacket without breaking the kiss, letting it drop somewhere behind me.
She pushes the shirt off my shoulders, and I feel her nails drag lightly down my chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
I return the favor, finding the zipper at the back of her dress, tugging it down in one rough motion.
The fabric loosens, and she arches up, letting me peel it away from her body.
Beneath it, black lace—simple, elegant, utterly devastating.
I sit back on my heels long enough to take Noelle in, the brazen expanse of skin, the rise and fall of her chest. She meets my gaze without a trace of shyness, then reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra.
It joins the growing pile on the floor. I lower my mouth to her collarbone, then lower still, tracing a path down her sternum.
She exhales sharply when my lips close around a nipple, her fingers threading through my hair, holding me there.
I don't stay long. I keep moving downward, pressing kisses across her stomach, feeling the muscles quiver beneath my mouth.
When I reach the waistband of her underwear, I hook my fingers under the lace and pull them down her legs.
She lifts her hips to help. Then there's nothing keeping me away from her bald pussy.
I settle between Noelle's thighs, draping her legs over my shoulders.
The scent of her, musky and sweet, fills my lungs.
She's already wet. I taste her with a slow, flat stroke of my tongue, and her moan sends a jolt of electricity straight through me.
I do it again, slower, then circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, flicking lightly before sealing my mouth over her and sucking.
Her breathing turns ragged. Her fingers tighten in my hair, pulling just this side of painful.
"Edward," she says, half warning, half plea.
I don't let that deter me. I slide one finger inside her, then two, curling them upward as my tongue continues its assault on her clit. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head.
"Right there," she gasps. "Don't stop!"
I don't. I keep the pressure steady, the pace unrelenting, until her back bows off the mattress and a broken cry tears from her throat. I feel her pulse around my fingers, the shudder that runs through her entire body.
Only then do I pull back, running my tongue over my lips to get the last of her juices.
I kiss my way back up her body. She tastes herself on my lips and moans, pulling me closer.
Her hand finds my erection and guides me to her entrance.
I push in slowly, giving her time, feeling her stretch and accommodate every inch.
She gasps when I'm fully seated, and I pause, forehead dropping to hers again, both of us trembling.
"Are you all right?"
"Mmhmm." Noelle moans.
I move. Slow at first, long strokes that drag and retreat, building a rhythm that has her nails digging into my back.
Her legs wrap around my waist, heels pressing into my lower back, urging me deeper.
I brace one hand beside her head and quicken the pace.
The bed frame creaks beneath us. Her breath comes in short bursts, matching each thrust.
"Look at me," I say.
Her eyes snap open, holding mine. I drive into her harder, watching her lips part and her eyes roll back in her head. Her hand slides between us, fingers working her clit, and I feel her tightening around me, the telltale sign that she's close.
"There," she exhales. "Don't stop?—"
I don't. She shatters again, clenching around me, a broken moan escaping her throat. The sight of her coming undone nearly finishes me, but I hold on.
Before Noelle can fully recover, I withdraw and turn her onto her side.
I lift her top leg, hooking it over my hip, and slide back into her from behind.
The angle is different—tighter, deeper. She cries out, her hand reaching back to touch my belly.
I move inside her with slow, deliberate thrusts, savoring the way she pushes back against me, meeting each stroke.
I lean over her, mouth finding her shoulder, her neck. My hand roams down her side, over her hip, then smack her ass. She jerks at first, caught completely by surprise. But she doesn't stop me. I smack her ass again, and again, matching the pace of my thrusts as she whimpers beneath me.
Then I flip her onto her stomach, a pillow beneath her hips.
I cover her body with mine, my chest to her back, and enter her from behind.
She moans into the mattress, fingers gripping the sheets.
I start slow but don't stay that way. The pressure builds fast—too fast—and I chase it, driving into her with increasing urgency.
She pushes back into me, meeting every thrust. "Inside," she manages, voice muffled. "Fill me up."
That's all it takes. I bury myself deep, a guttural groan bursting from me as I spill into her, my face pressed into the curve of her neck.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, or maybe that's mine. I can't tell anymore.