Chapter 22 #2
“Don’t worry, I’m on it, he declares as we push through the door and make our way into the room. There’s a small double bed, a dresser, and a cute window that looks out onto the North Carolina hills.
He takes two water bottles from the mini fridge inside the dresser and hands me one. I waste no time taking the cap off and gulping down the entire bottle.
I gasp. “I needed that.”
“What time do you want to head out to the vineyard tomorrow? Noah asks as he tosses his empty bottle into the trash can.
This weekend’s life list task is making our own wine, and we found a vineyard a couple of hours from here.
“Maybe nine. I think I may have a fuzzy head tomorrow,” I slur as he takes my empty bottle and tosses it in the trash with his.
We stand chest to chest, and the unspoken words that have been swirling in the air all night blanket us.
Every year, we grow closer, our friendship blooms, and if I am being really honest, deeper feelings are growing too.
But I have done my best to bury them because the guilt of wanting him eats me up.
How wrong of me to want the best friend of the man I loved and lost. What we want and what we can have are two different things.
I love being with Noah, but it is getting harder with every passing year to just be his friend.
My eyes trail up his torso, where his white tee clings to every inch of his muscles, and I could so easily reach out and smooth my hand over his chest and press myself into him. My mouth dries, and I choke on air when he says my name.
“Tor, are you with me?” he asks in a teasing tone.
“What? Oh yeah, I was just thinking.”
“What were you thinking about?” His words are low and gravelly.
How I’d like you to kiss me and take me to bed.
“I, umm…should go to my room.” I gesture with my thumb over my shoulder.
“Is that what you want to do?”
No.
He lifts my chin with his index finger and thumb, forcing me to look at him. His eyes penetrate mine, and that gesture makes me do something really dumb. I brush my hand along the band of his jeans and up his back, his muscles tensing under my fingertips.
He inhales sharply, “Tori.”
“Yes,” I answer, and my body shivers in anticipation.
“Did you mean what you said earlier? About dating someone?”
I shrug. “Maybe, but it won’t work.”
“Why?”
I let out a sigh. “Because when they get to know me, I’ll have to tell them my story, and they’ll look at me with pity.”
“Is that how you think people look at you?”
I search his eyes, trying to understand where this might be heading, but all I know, wherever it is, I want to go there.
“Isn’t it?” I ask.
He cups my jaw, and my eyes flutter shut.
“There are many things I think when I look at you, and trust me. Pity isn’t one of them.”
“What do you see when you look at me, Noah?” I ask, my words barely a whisper.
I open my eyes and look at him to encourage him to answer.
“I see a beautiful, strong, courageous woman, who I’m finding harder to resist every time I see her.”
His breathing grows harder, like he’s in physical pain.
“What do you want, Tor?” I don’t answer, and he presses his forehead to mine. “What are you trying to do to me?”
“I want to feel something,” I admit.
I need to feel something other than grief or sadness. I want to feel safe enough to welcome in something that isn’t those feelings, and he’s the only one in this world that makes me feel safe.
“Tell me what you need, darlin’.”
Darlin’. There’s that name again.
If my heart wasn’t racing already, it sure as hell is now.
My hands drift up his body and land on his chest just as his palms land on my waist. My body lights up with a feeling that I haven’t felt in a long time. Excitement? Need? I can’t be sure, but this feels different: new, exciting, and I want to see where it could lead.
“I want to be touched; I want to be wanted again. I want… you,” I confess, the words falling out with such ease. His body stiffens, and his hands tighten on my hips, and I know I’ve pushed it too far. I step back and cover my mouth with my hand as shame and embarrassment wash over me.
“I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I just said that. Please forget it. I didn’t mean it, I…” I avoid looking at him and attempt to escape to my bedroom, but he snatches my wrist and pulls me back.
I brace myself for his rejection, for him to tell me how wrong and inappropriate it would be for us to cross that line, but seeing his chest heave and the fire, no, the hunger in his blue eyes, hope blooms in my chest.
“Please don’t run,” he begs. “Do you have any idea how long I have waited to hear you say those words?”
I stand frozen, feet glued to the floor. I don’t think I could run even if I tried.
“So please, please don’t tell me you didn’t mean it.” I can feel his pain and anguish radiating from his body. I sense the battle of morals he’s having. This is wrong, but so right.
“Noah, please.” My words are breathy and short, and the knot in my stomach is curled so tight I feel ready to burst.
“What,’ darlin? Tell me what you want.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek and battle with myself. Come on, Victoria. It’s now or never. Either take what you want or walk away.
“What do you need, Tori?”
I swallow hard, raising my hands to cup his face and whisper, “You.”