23. Noelle
TWENTY-THREE
NOELLE
My body is still humming. Dash has managed to put a pair of boxers back on me, my legs still jelly, and my insides are experiencing aftershocks.
“We still need that chat.”
Smiling, he pulls on his boxers and pops a kiss on my lips. “We have all night, but first, you need to reach out to your girls.”
And that’s when the bookstore’s bells jingle.
“Oh God,” I whisper, shoving my tank top down over my belly, breath still ragged. Dash is in nothing but his boxers, shirt left … somewhere, hair damp with sweat, chest heaving like he just came off the ice. We’re surrounded by fallen stacks of books, a whole guilty scene painted loud as day.
And then … voices.
“Noelle!” Nalani’s voice rings out, sing-song and way too gleeful. “You have got to open the damn group chat before Claudia will spill her tea.”
Sofie’s laugh echoes behind her. “She wouldn’t say a word, so we dragged her here. Told her we weren’t leaving until you explained yourself.”
I freeze, horror spiking through me. “Oh my God.”
The words have barely left my lips when they round the corner—Nalani, Sofie, and Claudia in tow.
And, of course, my girls don’t miss a beat.
Nalani stops dead, eyes widening before a grin splits across her face. “Well, well, well …” she purrs. “Look at you, Miss Bookstore Fantasy.”
Sofie lets out a low whistle, arms crossing, smirk downright wicked. “I knew you two had sparks, but damn, Nono, this ? This is a full-on inferno.”
Heat slams into my face so hard I might combust on the spot. I yank the hem of my tank down like that’s going to cover me, or the pile of toppled romance novels framing me like a neon sign. “You could’ve knocked!” I squeak.
“Could have,” Nalani says sweetly, “but then we’d have missed this.”
Beside me, Dash mutters something under his breath, already grabbing for his pants.
He kisses the side of my head quickly and quietly, the brush of his lips more grounding than I deserve. “You’ll survive them,” he whispers before straightening and flashing the girls a mock salute.
“Coward,” I hiss after him, but he just smirks and disappears up the stairs to my apartment, leaving me to the wolves.
Because, of course, Sofie and Nalani pounce, Claudia standing red-faced and horrified while they circle me like vultures.
“Oh, we’re not letting this go,” Sofie says, eyes twinkling.
“Not a chance,” Nalani agrees, grinning wide. “So, Noelle … was it worth knocking down half the romance section?”
My groan only makes them laugh harder.
I can’t help but laugh, too, while I answer, “Yes, now I have to pee. Hold please.”
By the time I come back from the bathroom, they’ve already rearranged themselves into a jury box on the couch. Nalani’s perched in the middle like a judge, Sofie’s lounging with her legs kicked over the armrest, and poor Claudia is wedged between them, blushing so hard she might pass out.
“Take a seat,” Sofie says, pointing to the chair across from them.
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks are burning as I sink down. “You guys are impossible.”
“Impossible?” Nalani arches a brow. “You were literally caught half-naked, buried in romance novels, with Dash Sterling standing there in his underwear. Explain yourself.”
My laugh comes out nervous, high-pitched. “What’s there to explain? You saw it.”
Sofie leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Oh no, we want details. We had to hear about the guys all searching the web for a replacement dress, see you and him at a wedding on the internet, find out he went off the grid for you from Koa, and the whole meet the family that none of us have ever met during a Turkey Trot where you all wore matching tutus! You owe us.”
“I mean, you basically covered it all.” I shake my head. “But let’s backtrack, the guys what?”
“Fuck that. We’re not telling you for like a week!” Sofie yells.
We all start laughing, because how could we not?
“You’re glowing,” Nalani declares. “I haven’t seen you smile like this”—she pauses and looks around—“ever.”
They nod.
“I am not glowing.” My voice wobbles, giving me away.
Claudia, bless her heart, pipes up in the softest voice, “You kind of are.”
Sofie cackles, clapping her hands. “Ha! Knew it. So, Dash, bedroom eyes, big muscles, looks like sin in skates. Is it as good as it looks?”
I groan again, sinking lower into the chair. “You two are evil.”
“Evil and invested,” Nalani shoots back. “Now, spill.”
I peek at them through my fingers, heat creeping down my neck. Finally, I let out a sigh. “Fine. Yes, it’s … it’s good. Really good.”
Sofie lets out a victory cheer, kicking her legs in the air.
“And?” Nalani presses, leaning forward, eyes sparkling.
“And what?”
“You know what,” she says pointedly. “Is this just scratching an itch or …?”
The question lands heavy. My heart stutters, because the truth is there in the way I can still feel his hands on me, the way my chest aches just thinking of him slipping upstairs to give me space.
I bite my lip, shrugging weakly. “It’s more.”
“Does the sex just keep getting better or …?” Sofie asks.
“You all just interrupted what would have been our first post-sex cuddle session.”
“Okay, not cool.” Claudia stands. “We need to let her go get her cuddle on.”
“Nice try.” I shake my head. “We can talk about the fact that he loves me and I love him, too. That this was no One Night Dash—I want to keep him for all the nights. But first,” I nod to Claudia, “are the rumors we’re hearing true?”
“He’s a great guy.”
“Do you love him?” I ask.
“He’s a great guy,” she repeats.
“So, does this have anything to do with Dingy’s insistence on shared custody so he looks good to the owners of his new team and that daughter of his?” Nalani asks.
Claudia straightens her shoulders as she sits up taller. “Deacon Moretti is a great guy. When he asks, I will accept, and it won’t be a long engagement.”
“But it will be one hell of a wedding and heavily covered by the media,” Sofie says.
“That would be great, Sofie,” Claudia says softly.
“All right, well,” Nalani claps as she stands, “Noelle has a cuddle session to get to, and we have a wedding to plan.”
“Don’t plan it without moi !” I gasp.
“We wouldn’t dare,” Sofie says, hugging me.
We all hug and say our goodbyes, agreeing to get together before the game tomorrow night, before heading to the game.
I hear the creak of the stairs, and before I can even straighten the stack of books still lying sideways, the door swings open. Dash steps through, hair damp from washing up, wearing that grin that melts me on sight.
“Saw Sofie’s car leave,” he says, voice low and smug like he already knows the answer. “Miss me?”
The smile breaks across my face before I can stop it. “Missed you big, Sterling,” I admit, soft but certain.
He claps his hands together like he’s closing a deal, eyes never leaving me. “All right. We’ve got shelves to fix, food to grab, and talks to be had.”
“Talks to be had?” I echo, a flicker of nerves cooling all the warm fuzzies I was feeling.
“Yeah,” he says, striding over and sliding his hands around my waist. In one easy lift, he’s got me at eye level, his nose brushing mine in a playful nudge. “We hit the schedule lotto this week. We’re home through Thanksgiving. Nothing out of town until December fourth.”
Then his grin falters, forced, and he buries his face in my neck with a groan. “And I’m gonna need to get as much of you as I can before then. Because that date? Like a fucking storm cloud hanging over my head.”
I should probably be cool, keep it casual, don’t act like his words are not making me dizzy, but I just can’t. Should I internally preen over this? Is it too much too soon?
Yes. And maybe yes . But preen, I do.
My hands slide up into his hair, and for a moment, I just let myself glow in it—his want, his honesty, the way I’m being held by Dash like I’m a size two bunny, and I am not, not at all .
“You keep looking at me, and the rest of your bookstore is gonna look like a tornado hit it. I’m patient enough to clean up the most favorite mess I ever made, but we fuck the whole place up, that’s a lot of wasted time cleaning.”
“I have an idea.”
“Give it to me, Pembrooke.” He heads toward our mess, still carrying me.
“We talk while we clean up our … situation.”
“Isn’t that breaking girl code? You thinking a man can handle doing two things at once?”
“This just in.” I grin. “Noelle Pembrooke is a rule breaker.”
We set to work, bending, stacking, and propping books back where they belong. Dash makes quick work of the heavier piles while I trail behind, fixing spines and nudging covers straight.
“So,” I say, glancing at him over my shoulder, “schedule lotto, huh? Thanksgiving home, nothing until December fourth. That’s a gift.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but his eyes cut to me, warm. “Best kind. More time with you.”
I bite my lip, hiding a smile, and slide a stack onto the shelf. “Since you volunteered to help with the playbook …”
“Volunteered, I certainly did,” he repeats, smirking.
“Yes. Since you volunteered, you should take liberties. Align with mine as little or as much as you want.”
His brows lift. “You may regret that.”
“Something tells me I won’t.”
“You’re gonna set me off task here, and we’re halfway done. So, let’s talk about grabbing something to eat.” He winks at me.
“What’s your favorite thing to eat?”
“You,” he states, and I’m blushing.
“Food, Sterling.”
We’re back on task … for now. Pizza or wings? Both, obviously. Mexican or Italian? He says he eats Italian on cheat days, but not too much. Mexican, he can make work. Donuts or pie?
“In season, no donuts, occasional pie. Strict macros, lean proteins, boring stuff.” He shrugs like it’s just a fact. “But out of season? Donuts at sunrise, pie at night. Non-negotiable.”
My grin spreads slowly. “So, you’re basically two different men depending on the calendar.”
“Guess you’ll have to stick around to meet both.”
By the time we’re done, the books are upright again, and my stomach hurts from laughing.
Dash drops onto the step stool, stretching his arms out wide. “You know,” he says slowly, “it doesn’t feel right, staying at the Puck Palace.”
I tilt my head. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not a single man anymore.” His gaze finds mine, steady and sure. “I want a place of my own. A place where I can walk around naked, and so can you, without worrying about anyone stepping in.”
Heat spikes in my cheeks, but my answer is easy. “My bed’s free anytime you want to stay.”
He grins, wicked and sweet all at once. “You should ask your roommates how they feel about that.”
I blink, then laugh. “You mean Ernest and Hemingway?”
“Yeah.” His voice drops mock-serious. “I don’t want to step on any paws.”
I snort. “They’d probably write poetry about you.”
“Good,” he says with a smirk. “I’ll dedicate the first naked lap around the place to them.”
I’m still laughing when he leans forward, voice dipping low. “Real talk, though … your bed’s cute as fuck, but it’s not gonna survive the next time you tell me not to hold back.”
My breath catches. “That sounds like a threat.”
“That’s a damn promise.”
And sure enough, an hour later, the bed groans, creaks, and then gives with a sharp crack under us. I’m breathless with laughter while he’s on the phone, still sprawled across me, ordering a California king like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Steam rises off my skin and pools against the foggy glass when I hear the click of the bathroom door, and Dash staggers in, completely and gloriously naked, sporting a lazy grin, his hair sticking up in all directions.
He stretches, his erection bobbing slightly as he does, hand behind his neck, rubbing it like he’s working out a kink.
“Morning, Pembrooke. How do you feel about me taking a piss while you’re in the bathroom?” he says, his tone casual, as if we hadn’t spent last night exploring each other’s bodies in detail—his fingers expertly stroking me until I writhed beneath him as he sucked my clit, making me fall apart.
“Better than I would if you used the litter box.” I giggle.
“Perfect,” he says as he proceeds. “I mean, you girls use the bathroom together all the time, so I hope this doesn’t offend you.”
“There’s one toilet here,” I say casually as I try and fail to watch him pee. Okay, I know that may seem off, but I’m a curious soul, and yeah, an author, so … research. My already sensitive insides clench involuntarily at the thought of what that beautiful thing did to me last night.
He finishes, shakes himself off, flushes, and instead of getting into the shower like a normal person, he presses his entire body against the glass.
“I heard some talk about a hockey rink being a man aquarium. What do you think?”
I laugh. “I think you’re ridiculous and I am oddly turned on.”
His erection is pressed firmly against the foggy surface as our eyes lock in a heated challenge. My breath catches in my throat while I imagine him pushing deep inside me and knowing precisely which angle to thrust.
“Gonna state the obvious here, but so am I. You good with a proper good morning?”
“Why aren’t you already in here?”
He steps into the shower with me and leans in for a kiss, our bodies pressed together under the warm water. I feel his finger slide down my wet skin, gently teasing my clit before slipping inside me. My back arches in response to the sensation, already wanting more.
With his other hand, he cups my breast, kneading it firmly as he continues to move his fingers in and out of me. Our eyes remain locked; the intensity between us grows stronger with each breath. I can’t take it any longer; I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer.
He positions himself at my entrance and teases me for a moment before finally thrusting inside. The initial penetration sends shivers down my spine as he simultaneously bites my neck gently. His strong arms hold on to me tightly as we fall into sync.
My nails dig into his back as the pleasure builds within me, moaning louder with each stroke. He picks up the pace, meeting my hips with relentless force and hitting that perfect angle deep within me.
I tense up, thighs quivering, and a sharp gasp escapes my lips. “Come with me.”
“I have more to give, Noelle.” He grunts as his pace increases, muscles tightening beneath my hands. “Fuck, you feel too good to stop now, or ever.”
“Dash,” I cry as my body explodes.
He holds tighter, keeping me in position when I could easily fold, grunting curses against my neck until he comes.
“Never showered with a woman before,” he admits between soft kisses. “Never came so hard as I do with you.”
“Same.”