Chapter 14
Olivia
My heart stops beating . . .
And then it rolls across my chest like thunder.
I should feel panicked seeing Noah holding my baby.
But I don’t. My heart feels too big for my chest to contain, every beat magnified like someone’s hooked an amp to it.
I worry it’s too loud for the quiet of a nursery, and I’ll wake them up.
I close the door so they can sleep a bit longer without the interruption of my blooming emotions getting in the way.
But I can’t resist and peek inside again.
There, in the chair where I’ve rocked my baby to sleep through the past year, sleeps a giant of a man, and cradled in the nook of his arm is Maxwell. Both slumber like reflections of each other.
Maxwell’s ninety-five percentile ranking in size, well, it’s not from my side of his family. In appearance, from hair to eye color, Maxwell is his father’s son.
I have such conflicting feelings, a hurricane of them swirling around my head. Is it okay to love the sight of them together? To hope that Maxwell could have the love of a supportive dad?
Our past has dictated every move we’ve made and each word exchanged since he walked into that conference room.
Getting to know him has been a struggle of my own doing.
I knew . . . deep down, I already knew he was a good man.
Not just from how he made love to me with care, but by putting my needs before his, and holding me in the aftermath like we could survive the next morning.
Leaving my number for him wasn’t as hard as I thought, considering I was fresh off a breakup.
It also wasn’t done in a moment of weakness.
I didn’t expect to connect with anyone. It’s not what I was looking for, but spending time with him changed something in my chemistry.
He wasn’t just a physical attraction; we were fireworks together in bed.
It was more. He had me believing we were more than a one-night stand. I followed my heart and believed him.
After that, I blamed the alcohol for blurring my rationale.
My relationship aside because that’s another story altogether, I’ve come around to the idea that Noah not calling me isn’t something I can hold against him.
He has a right to play a role in Maxwell’s life.
Seeing them together now cements that in my heart.
It’s only right he knows sooner rather than later.
I close the door as a wave of emotions barrel over me. Leaning against the wall, I drop my head in my hands just as the tears start to fall. The unknown is terrifying. I’ve imagined a million different scenarios, but I won’t truly know how he’ll react until I tell him.
The grief over losing time with my son to share him with someone else, the joy I’d carried in my heart when I realized how much this would mean to Maxwell to have a father who’s there for him, and the mixture of being out at sea on a life raft that was never meant to weather the storm—yet I’m surviving—have me floating between the three in uncertainty.
Warm hands caress my shoulders, and Noah’s arms envelop me.
“It’s okay, Liv.” Tears transfer from my face to his chest as I breathe in the cologne lingering on his skin.
He holds me to him. I don’t fight it like I’ve been carelessly fighting him since he’s been in the city.
With the image of him holding Maxwell still in my head, I soak him in.
“Why are you crying?” he whispers against the top of my head and then places a kiss there.
Do I deserve his kindness?
Not for how I’ve behaved so ruthlessly. Does it matter that I was protecting the most important thing in my life? Yes. Now that I’ve witnessed him act so caring toward my son and me, I know he’d never hold that against me.
But keeping Maxwell from him any longer might cause a ripple of anger that can’t be repaired. I don’t want that to happen to us, so it’s in my hands to make sure it doesn’t.
At this moment, I revel in the feel of having him around me again, holding me in a way that no one has in longer than I can remember prior to him in the Hamptons.
When I look up, our eyes meet, and though I know I shouldn’t . . . I really should not kiss him, I’m overwhelmed with the need to be connected to him again. The desire to forget who I am, to feel like Liv again for a few hours takes over. I lift on my tiptoes and kiss Noah with reckless abandon.
And he kisses me right back with just as much passion as if he’s been saving it for years like I have.
His hand slides up my back and my shoulder to my neck, then he cups my cheek as the heat between us magnifies.
When I pull back, only our lips lose the connection, but I still feel it deep within me.
I’m relieved to see his breathing picked up and that the look in his eyes is wild like mine. With him, I can savor this hunger unabashedly, not giving a damn what the world outside thinks of me.
He leans his head against me and closes his eyes. “Are you sure? Because—”
“I’m sure, Noah.” I caress his face, and when he opens his eyes, I add, “I want to be with you so badly.” There’s a plea to my tone that I don’t recognize.
Weak to him? It’s illogical to need him so much right now, but that’s all I can think will make the world disappear before it falls apart again.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that, to want me like I spent so much time wanting you back, even if I could only have one more night?
” He kisses me without hesitation and lifts me into his arms, preventing my spinning thoughts from taking over.
As soon as my legs wrap around his middle, he turns, pushing open the door to my bedroom as if he lives here.
Setting me on the bed, he crawls on top of me, but I push my hands against his chest. “Wait.”
He stops, his chest rising and deflating under the shirt that was crisp hours earlier. Like his hair, he’s disheveled but so damn sexy. “What?”
“I’ve been sitting in a hospital and riding in cabs. I’m dirty and a mess.”
He runs the pad of his thumb over the apple of my cheek with a small smile.
His gaze wanders from my eyes to my mouth, my chin to my forehead, as if he’s searching for something to back my claim.
Leaning down, he kisses the scar above my right eyebrow.
It’s barely noticeable these days, but his lips are tender against my skin, making me feel loved.
Too soon for that word . . .
Too soon for love of that kind . . .
“You’ve never been more beautiful.” Cared for.
That’s how I feel in his arms. Inhaling, he briefly closes his eyes before leaning his head against mine again.
Excitement brightens his eyes. “But I’m liking this idea.
What if we shower together?” Grabbing me by the hands, I’m pulled to my feet before I can back out.
Not that I would. I’ve seen this man naked before.
That image has run through my mind many times since, so I’m not upset about seeing him or feeling him all over again.
He says, “Let’s get you clean.” I go willingly. Holding my hand, he leads me into the bathroom and closes the door behind us.
“You afraid someone’s going to walk in on us?”
He leans around me and locks it as if for good measure. “One day, you’ll be glad you got in the habit. Ask me how I know.”
I start to laugh. “I’m thinking that’s a conversation for another time.”
“Probably best.”
Moving to the shower, I reach in and turn on the water to warm it up for us. I was never confident about sex before I met Noah. And although my body has changed from when he last saw me, I feel confident in his presence and kick off my shoes without a thought.
Maybe I shouldn’t be jumping into sleeping with him again after the rough week we had. But tonight, that all changed. I saw him for the man he is instead of the monster who wants to take my baby away.
Or maybe it feels good to be wanted and treated like I matter. Either way, I win in the end. I kiss him again as we keep stripping clothes from our bodies. There’s something so incredibly magnetic about Noah Westcott that I don’t mind skipping a few steps when it comes to him.
His pants drop, and just as he steps out of them, I press myself fully against him. Sliding my hands over the broad of his shoulders, I lift to kiss him again. His large hands covering my lower back make me ready to yield to his every desire. A squeeze of my ass has my insides clenching in desire.
But the way he tilts his head and nudges to get access to my neck has my nipples hard and my body turned on. Trailing kisses down my neck, he stops, his warm breath heating my skin, and then he travels back up to my mouth.
I’m backed toward the shower, taking two steps before I stop again. “I need to get something.”
Trust is not only seen in his eyes. It’s felt when Noah bends to kiss me. “You know where to find me. Be quick.” A slap on the ass has me squealing—the burn and tingling a warning of what’s to come—and has me moving quicker in anticipation.
I don’t have alcohol or a pill failing to blame this time. I’m sober and well aware of the possible outcomes. I also know with Noah, I need double the protection.
Inside my closet, I kneel to dig through the bottom drawer of the left built-ins. Filled with old bikinis and sexy bras I no longer wear, I pull out a box of condoms and flip it over to check the expiration date. There hasn’t been a need to use protection in years.
We’ll use these in the nick of time with one month to spare. I grab all three from the package, detouring to the counter to drop two off on the way to the shower. My feet still as my breath catches when I see the reflection in the mirror.
Oh.
My.
God.
I spin around, gripping the counter's edge to keep me upright.