27. Rough
Chapter 27
Rough
“ B aby?” Noah’s voice is accompanied by a knock on my apartment door not twenty minutes later.
I don’t remember what I told him over the phone, but his electric current is more of a pulsing zap than a pleasant hum as I open the door and he pulls me into his arms.
For the first time since I heard my mother and sister were coming over, my whole body relaxes. Every muscle that had been taut is now liquid. I sag into his embrace and allow his scent, his electricity, his entire being to wash over me, a balm to my soul.
“Hazel, what happened?” He tries to get my attention.
I pull back to meet his gaze. Bushy eyebrows are drawn in concern over dark brown-black eyes, eyes that I loved before I even met him.
My hand comes up to his stubbly cheek, caressing his soft skin. Reminding me that he’s here and he’s mine. With that hand, I bring him into a kiss.
It’s almost harsh as I nip at his lower lip and tangle my fingers in his hair, demanding that he make me forget. That he allow me to lose myself in us. In what we have, if only for a moment.
He’s too sweet, however. He pulls back, searching my face for something. His arms remain wound around me, holding me tight.
I shake my head, refusing to loosen my grip on his curls. “Please, Noah.”
His nose slides against mine, a slow drag that puts our lips within touching distance—just a breath away. “Is it bad that I love it when you beg?”
“Then give me a reason,” I murmur, looking up at him from under my lashes.
His lips lift in a crooked grin at my challenge, brushing against mine just for a moment. “You know I can.”
My heart flutters and I’m no longer content with the teasing. My lips crash against his, pulling his hair just a touch too hard. I want him to pull too hard, grab too hard—make me feel something. Anything other than this pit of hopelessness.
Clothes. There are too many clothes in the way of what I want.
I tear at whatever fabric I can reach, tangling my fingers in it and pulling as hard as I can.
“Got it,” he chuckles, yanking his shirt up from the back and throwing it God knows where. His skin is warm underneath my fingers, and I soak it in, pressing in against him as close as possible.
His hand cups my cheek, tilting my head and deepening the kiss. It’s still not rough enough. I need to be broken down and put back together in the way only he possibly can. I want to feel him on my skin, in my muscles, for days. I want to burn with the reminder with every step I take.
“What do you want, Hazel?” His voice is that gravelly, low timbre that melts me into a puddle.
I whimper. “You. And I want it rough.”
Brown-black eyes fully dilate; his breathing picks up. “Yeah? You sure?”
I nod. It’s the only thing I can do. The way he’s gazing at me...My voice has been stolen.
His fingers dig into my skin and I gasp at the sensation, at the knowledge that he’s leaving marks on my hips. I lean further into him, allowing him to take control. My head tips in submission, bearing my neck to him.
Teeth drag along the tender skin there, light enough not to mark but enough to let me know his intention.
“Take your fucking clothes off.” The words rumble against my skin in tune with the current making the hairs on my arms stand on end.
I hurry to obey. My fingers tangle in the buttons on my shirt as I lay myself bare before him.
He steps toward me, the back of his hand brushing against the very tip of my nipple. It hardens under his touch and I arch, asking—begging—for more.
“You’re the most divine woman I’ve ever seen. I could drink you in every day for the rest of my life and still be thirsty for more of you.”
My eyes flutter shut as he presses me back against the wall. The coarse texture of the paint scratches my bare skin and I push up against Noah. A still partially clothed Noah. I lift my hand to help divest him of the barriers between us but he stops me. He takes my hands in one of his and presses them against the wall above my head.
“Did I tell you that you could do that?” Despite the harshness of the words, his tone is soft. Loving, but confident.
I open my eyes. “No. No, you didn’t.”
His other hand trails down and grasps my ass. “I’ll spank you if you do it again.”
“Oh, yeah?” A giggle escapes me. He’s never spanked me before, and I mean...It’s Noah.
The crack sounds before the pain blossoms on my skin. I suck in a breathy moan as the warmth travels up my spine.
An almost evil grin spreads on Noah’s face at my reaction. “That’s interesting.”
I squirm, pushing myself into his hand and his chest simultaneously.
Fuck, why does he still have his pants on? This is almost offensive at this point.
“Noah.” The word is breathless, almost too quiet, yet jarring in the silence of the room. “Please.”
“I got you, Hazel. Let go.”
A weight lifts off my chest at his words. I can trust Noah, I know Noah would never leave me. I love him.
I stop the struggle. My body relaxes against the wall, my hands go limp in his grasp, and I allow him to do whatever he wants.
His hand travels up my spine and rests on my cheek. “Come here.”
The kiss is deep, as if he’s trying to pull my very soul from me. Not breaking the kiss, he releases me from his grip to—finally—remove his pants. I keep my hands where they are on the wall despite the itch to help him, to rip him free from his confines.
He unzips his jeans, pushing them off to the ground with his socks and shoes. Warm skin presses me back against the wall, his large palm holding my jaw exactly where he wants.
“You’re so good, baby,” he murmurs against my lips. “Look at you. So good.”
He lifts me from the wall and walks us to the bedroom, nose buried in my throat. It’s all I can do to hang on. In a moment, we’re tangled together on the flowered bedspread.
“I want you to ride me,” he says, pulling me on top of him. “I want to watch you take exactly what you need.”
He could tell me to do anything at this point. I’d do it, no question.
I steady myself on his chest as he lines us up and I finally sink down.
The stretch is exquisite , and then it happens again. My mind expands and it’s not just me—it’s us.
“Oh!” I gasp as our hips meet.
“Fuck, I can’t help it.” He sits up. I’m still in his lap, but his hands are all over me, crushing us together as he steals the breath from my lungs with his kiss. He slides to the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the ground.
We move.
Our kissing becomes more like panting in each other’s mouths as we rock in a steady rhythm. My nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons on his skin.
“Baby,” he breathes. “Hazel. I love you.”
Our movement stutters for a second as my heart stops. But I can feel him, I can feel what he feels, and he means it. He’s not caught up in the moment.
He loves me.
“I love you, Noah. I’ve loved you forever.”
His smile is blinding, until it turns feral and I’m lifted by the hips. He holds me there, just barely inside me as I squirm.
“Beg.”
“Please, please, please—shit, Noah, ple?—”
He flips me and fucks into me in a movement so fluid I swear it’s magic. There will be bruises on every inch of my skin in perfectly shaped fingerprints, and I’ll press them tomorrow as a reminder of how he left his love on my skin.
His rhythm is punishing for the rest of the night.
“I meant what I said earlier, Hazel. I love you.” He squeezes me tighter from behind, erasing any distance between our bodies.
I smile to myself, running my fingers along the hair on his arm. “I love you, too.”
“I need to ask something of you.” He huffs a breath in my ear. “I need something from you.”
“Of course. Anything.”
“When Sam killed himself, it took me a long time to stop blaming myself. To stop thinking that I should’ve known something was wrong. To stop thinking I should’ve asked him more questions or been more involved.”
“Noah...” My heart breaks for him. I try to turn, but he holds me steady.
“Let me get this out.” Another deep breath. “I need you to talk to me. It isn’t fair to demand it like this, but I need you to tell me the important things. Not everything, but honesty means everything to me. I need honesty.”
Shit. It’s not a ridiculous request—especially knowing how he wishes Sam would’ve told him what he was feeling—but it’s one I haven’t been honoring. I’ve been putting this conversation off for too long.
Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.
“Okay. I promise.”
His relief is palpable. The tension melts out of his hold, his grip becomes less desperate and more caring. “I promise the same.”
Despite my fear of this conversation, I can’t help but soak up the moment. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.