Back to Me (Carolina Rebels 1)

There’s a ding and the doors slide open. Noah places his hands on my waist and gently urges me forward. We walk/waddle like this for nineteen steps. Yes, I counted. How can a door close, but not open? It’s a hard, heavy thud, but I swear I didn’t hear it open. His hands slide down, his fingers closing over the hem of my shirt, and he begins to lift. I fold my arms, so he can’t go any further.

“We’re alone now,” Noah whispers into my ear, humor touching his tone.

With his confirmation, I lift my arms up. “What are we doing? Where are we?”

“You’ll see,” is all he says. He places soft kisses across my shoulders as he unhooks my bra next. His fingers trail over my skin from my back to my stomach. The button of my shorts is popped open. Noah’s lips sear their way down my chest to my stomach as he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband. “Help me out a little here.” It takes a moment, but it clicks what he wants and I slip out of my flip-flops. I’m expecting his mouth to go lower, for him to keep kissing me, but once my shorts and panties are removed, nothing happens.

After a moment, his hand grasps mine and he tugs. Wherever he leads me has a cool floor instead of the carpet we were just standing on. Finally, I feel him tugging at the knot of the tie. When it falls away, all I can manage to do is stare. There’s a dozen flames flickering from the wicks of heavenly-smelling candles, but in front of me is a jacuzzi full of hot, steamy water.

“Hot tub, jacuzzi, close enough, right?” A naked Noah walks past me and lowers himself into the large tub.

“How did you do this?” I ask, taking his outstretched hand to step into the tub and sit down in front of him, my back to his chest. God, this water feels so good. So does a naked Noah.

“I made a phone call. The manager at this hotel is a huge Rebels fan; I’ve stayed here before when I was on other teams and we came to play the Rebels. All I had to do was promise a signed jersey and he got this hotel suite put together for me.”

I lean my head back against his shoulder and close my eyes. “Thank you, Noah.”

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek.

My mind wanders as we relax. Noah palms his hands over mine and interlocks our fingers, resting our joined hands on my stomach. I’m really surprised he hasn’t tried to take this further already. Maybe that’s another way he’s different than before. We can touch without him getting handsy and suggesting sex.

“What was your

first thought when you saw me at the airport?” he asks out of the blue.

“I couldn’t believe you were there. I was about to leave because I had talked myself out of coming, and then there you were. I wondered if it was a sign. Once you sat down next to me on the plane, I didn’t know if I was thrilled you were there and that I still wanted to crawl into your lap to kiss you or stupid to think you’d want me to. When I left, we never talked about what could happen in the future, even though I always figured I’d come back to you. What did you think?”

“That I wanted to kiss you and never let you out of my sight again. Then I was worried because you hadn’t planned on coming.”

And now it’s time for a change in subject. I don’t want to talk about everything that’s messed up. “Do you like living here?”

“Yeah. I’ve lived in a lot of places, and this is definitely the one I love most.”

“Do you think you’ll stay in Carolina for a while?”

“I’m hoping I’ll get an extension at the end of this season.” He kisses my neck, moving one of his hands up my body at a tortuously slow pace while the other heads south. “Do you like it here?”

“Well, it’s not Pittsburgh,” I tease, “but it has its perks.”

“Yeah? What are those?”

“Nice weather. Nice hotels with jacuzzis. Great places to shop and explore. Oh, god,” I moan when he dips just his hand between my legs. My hips wiggle when he doesn’t do anything but rest there.

“Are you forgetting something?”

“Um.” I pretend to think it over.

“Mere,” he warns.

“Oh yeah, there’s this really hot hockey player I’ve met. Maybe you know him.” His fingers slide a little lower and I feel only a little bad about what I’m about to tell him.

“What’s his name?” He applies some pressure, but waits on my answer.

“Marc.” I can’t help my giggle as he pauses. He pinches my nipple hard. “Ow!” I laugh.

“That was not funny.”

“Then why am I laughing?”