“This is your last chance, Odette. If we walk into my bedroom, there’s no going back. I’m going to fuck you. I’m going totake you. I’m going to make sure you know I was inside you for days to come. So I’ll ask again: Are you sure you want to do this?”
Am I sure I want to sleep with my best friend’s older brother and possibly change the course of our relationship forever? No.
But am I sure I want to sleep with Noah, even though I know he’s the same person? Yes. Yes, I am.
I lean forward, my lips ghosting over his as I say, “I am absolutely positive that I want you to fuck me, Noah Stevens.”
A low groan rumbles from his chest, and he races into the room, dropping me onto the bed so quickly that I bounce back at him.
He flicks his chin toward me. “Off.”
I know he’s talking about my pants, and I waste no time pushing them off my legs and flinging them across the room. They land on his dresser, toppling something over, and I laugh.
And then I’m not laughing at all.
Noah pulls his shirt over his head, and it’s the first glimpse I’ve gotten of adult Noah without a shirt on.
If anyone thought he might ditch his exercise routine after leaving hockey behind, they were wrong. He’s still completely in shape, looking like he could lace up his skates and hit the ice like no time has passed.
He has his curtains and window pushed open to let the summer air in, and the moonlight streaming in is doing wonders for this moment,allowing me to see all of him. His broad shoulders, which I’ve spent far too many workdays staring at, seem even bigger, and his stomach is full of ripples. I can’t even keep track of the number of abs he has.
When I reach his face, he’s smirking, enjoying me checking him out far too much.
“See something you like, darlin’?”
It’s cheesy—sodamn cheesy—but I don’t care. I’m in Noah’s bedroom, sprawled out on his bed, and he’s looking at me like he’s about to devour me.
And I’ve never wanted anything more.
He places one knee on the bed, looming over me, and I’m captivated. Absolutely enthralled by all things Noah.
I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, and I don’t.
He sets his other knee on the mattress, then, slowly, he works his way up, trailing his fingers over my skin so lightly that goose bumps form in their wake. He doesn’t stop until he’s fit right between my legs, settling his hips against mine so he can capture my lips with his once more.
He kisses me softly this time. Less urgent than when we were down in the kitchen. Almost like he’s savoring it. Savoringme.
Nobody has ever done that before. All my past experiences have been over quickly. We just get right down to business. No build up.
I want to be savored.
When he’s had his fill, he kisses over my chin, down my throat, and right to the tops of my breasts, still encased in my bra.
Just when I think he’s going to stop and kiss me there, he doesn’t. He keeps going. Lower and lower and lower, tracing his tongue around my belly button and right to the top of my underwear—the same pair that started all this two weeks ago.
He pauses, looking up at me with hooded eyes.
“I’m trying to be patient, Odette. I really am, but I can’t be anymore. I need to taste you. May I?”
Need to taste you. May I?
He sounds so polite, but there’s nothing polite about his stare. About the absolute hunger in his eyes.
About theneedin his voice.
I’m not about to deny him.
I let my legs fall open, a silent invitation.
