He grips my waist. “Stop for the love of god.”
“Sorry. Just trying to get comfortable.”
He curses under his breath, and my smile grows.
But my victory is short-lived because the longer I lie there, the stuffier the room gets. I’m starting to sweat. I forgot to take my sweater off before bed. That on top of the poor airflow up here and the body heat Noah’s putting off means I’m literally panting.
I see no other way around it.
“Hold on a second,” I say, sitting up so I can yank off my sweater.
Thank god it’s dark or he’d be getting an eyeful of my cleavage in this dress.
I reach around him to drop the sweater onto the bedside table and then lie back down. If my boobs brush against him in the process, hey, it’s a small bed. I can only do so much.
Noah is rock hard when I get back into my little spoon position and nestle against him. Admittedly, I’m provoking him.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I tell him. “It happens to plenty of guys. If it doesn’t subside in a few hours, we’ll just rush you off to the hospital.”
Apparently, I’ve pushed him too far, because in a flash he’s got me rolled over onto my back as he leans over me. I’m helpless. He has his knee wedged between my legs and his hands on either side of my head, propping himself up off me.
I stifle my yelp, not wanting to worry Giuseppe’s family. That’s just what we need, all of them rushing in here to beat Noah off me.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warns.
I can barely make out his face in the dark, but I can imagine it looks sinister.
“You’ve proved your point,” I tell him, sounding slightly breathless. But even still, I can’t help myself. I lift my hand and run it up under the bottom of his shirt, flattening my palm against the abs I’ve been dying to touch all day. It’s a treat to say the least.
“Audrey.”
It sounds like he’s gritting his teeth. I really need to stop.
Fine.
I hold up my hands and wave the white flag.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”
I assume he’ll roll off me then, satisfied with my apology, but instead, he lowers himself gently until I feel his delicious weight just barely pinning me down onto the mattress. He feels huge and menacing positioned on top of me. His knee grinds between my legs, doing his dirty work. Somehow, he knows exactly where to rub, and I gasp. He chuckles. His mouth presses against the side of my neck, just under my ear.
“It happens to plenty of girls,” he tells me, teasing. “If it doesn’t subside in a few hours, we’ll just rush you off to the hospital.”
So this is how it’s going to go.
We might talk about a ceasefire and some things in our relationship might change, but I doubt Noah and I will ever be able to truly live in peace. A tiger can’t change his stripes, and we love this too much. Tit for tat is our favorite game.
Satisfied that he’s elicited a reaction from me, he moves up and off me and we rearrange ourselves back into our original position.
“Try to get some sleep,” he says, brushing my hair back in an impossibly tender show of affection. It’s the first instance where I know I’m utterly doomed. If Noah shows me kindness, I’ll fall. Instantly.
I know as soon as I close my eyes and try to relax that I won’t be sleeping a single wink. I might as well get up now and save myself the trouble, but it feels too good to lie here snuggled against Noah. Weird, yes. Foreign, most definitely. But good too. Nice. Safe. When’s the last time I’ve felt this way? Jeff never made me feel safe. He wasn’t a cuddler, said it made him uncomfortable.
I’ve never imagined what sharing a bed with Noah would be like. He’s thoughtful about it. He gives me as much space as he can without toppling over the edge himself. He shifts and settles behind me, and when his breathing calms into a pattern and he falls asleep, I relax a little more knowing he can’t cause me any more trouble now that he’s unconscious.
I almost grow used to the weight of his arm on my waist, but there’s still a lot to process after the day I’ve had.
Now that I’m alone with my thoughts—horrifying—I replay every minute detail of my interactions with Noah from the beach to the car to this room, and when I’m done and I still don’t feel tired, I do it all over again.
A date!
I agreed to a date!
Next Saturday!
I panic, then calm down, then find something new to panic about. It feels never-ending, but my brain must eventually conk itself out because the next thing I know it’s morning. Pale light streams in through the window. A rooster shatters the peace and quiet. I’m on my stomach, half on top of Noah. My leg is sprawled over his, claiming him. My cheek is on his chest. Drool dribbles onto his t-shirt. His hand has a lazy grip on my butt.