I hate seeing him like this—stripped bare, hollowed. His pain isn’t just something I witness; it’s a living thing that coils around my chest and squeezes tight. I feel it all the way to my soul.
“Tell me what happened, love? What happened with Noah?”
He draws my hand to his face and keeps it there, his tears warm, seeping into my skin, one after another, as though they might explain it for him.
“H-he touched me…”
I stay silent, my thumb gently brushing his cheek, urging him to keep going without words.
“There,” he says, barely above a whisper.
In that single word, everything falls into place. Exposing a part of him that only I was supposed to know. Only I was supposed to ever touch.
“It’s okay, chulo.” I let my hand fall to his waist, running my thumb across his hip bone. A shiver ripples through his body, sliding through my skin like a live wire.
“And then what?”
He looks up, eyes raw and searching, tears streaming freely now.
“I thought he was you.” He sobs, voice collapsing. “I called out for you. God—I called out foryou.”
“Oh, chulo.”
His head lands heavily on my shoulder, and I wrap him up in my arms, feeling his heartbeat pound against my chest. Tears soak my shirt as he nuzzles his nose into my neck, and he hiccups softly. It’s all I can do to watch him fall apart.
I breathe into his hair, inhaling the soft notes of coconut, vanilla, and spice. It’s the same scent it’s always been for the past fifteen years, blending nicely with his natural masculine warmth. A quiet moan vibrates against my throat, and I swallow the vibration as my hand travels along his waist and my fingers slip into his.
“Come with me, love.” The words leave my mouth gently, but they don’t land that way inside me. I exhale, wrestling with my slipping insanity, squeezing my eyes shut tight in the hopes of blinding my twisted thoughts.
Because what I’m thinking demands a whole lot of forgiveness and a fucking tidal wave of holy water.
17
ALEX
Breathtaking…
That’s how I would describe Noah—with those pretty blue eyes, gold-sparkled lips, and lean, tightly-stretched muscles. That’s Noah, and he’s absolutely breathtaking.
But the Noah who stands before me now—right at this very moment—thighs wrapped around a steel pole in the middle of his bedroom, eyes shut, long lashes resting on the tips of his cheeks as he slowly descends from the pole… that Noah is jaw-dropping, heart-stopping…
Beyond breathtaking.
Sultry notes waft through the air, wrapping the room in heat and utter temptation, as I lean against the door, heart pounding, cock thickening, watching his body slip seamlessly onto the floor.
Slowly, his eyes flutter open, lazy and heavy-lidded. I’m barely holding on by a thread when his smoldering eyes lock onto mine, and I just about melt onto the floor with him. Hedoesn’t say a word. Honestly, he doesn’t need to. I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
A rush of heat soars through my body as I begin to move, gravity pulling me toward him with a force so strong it’s not even worth fighting. My veins sizzle with anticipation, and this unexplainable craving that I don’t understand. Nor do I want to. Not when this feels so right. I embrace the sensation instead, knowing there’s no turning back… not when I’m burning with this extreme urge of desire.
“Noah,” I whisper as I reach him, taking a hold of the pole to steady myself because I feel like I might faint. He slithers off the floor, curling his limbs around the pole as he gently lifts himself back into position. Teasing the air with a limber leg, he stretches it overhead with effortless grace before gently dropping it onto my shoulder, then letting it fall to my waist.
I tenderly run my hand up the back of his thigh and over the swell of his ass. His cheek sits perfectly in the center of my palm, and I squeeze his toned flesh, watching those beautiful blue eyes find mine, a quiet storm flickering in their depths, vulnerable, electric… painfully exposed. Like glimpsing something sacred and broken all at once. Something that shouldn’t be seen. Something still breathing, but barely alive.
In fact, I’m unsure whether to hold it, heal it, or fall apart with it.
His tongue drags across his lower lip, slow and uncertain.
Cautiously, I lower his leg from my waist, unwrapping his limbs from the pole until we’re standing chest to chest, eye to eye, lips to fucking lips.
