I left my hair down and put on a small bit of make-up before laying down on the bed. There was still another hour before the remembrance began. Noah had hired people to clean the house and set up a large sound system for music. Siobhan was doing the catering, and honestly, it felt more like a big party than a remembrance ceremony. Like a final fuck you to the person who once made his life a misery. A decade had passed, and now Noah was ready to leave the tragedy behind him.
I was currently re-reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame, absorbed in Quasimodo and Esmeralda’s world when my bedroom door opened. Someone stepped inside, and I sensed it was Noah right before he dropped down onto the bed next to me. Without preamble he plucked the book from my grasp, tossed it aside and buried his face in my neck, kissing and nibbling. My breathing quickened as a pleasured sigh escaped me.
“Missed you today,” he mumbled into my skin, and a shudder went through me. His hunger for me was something I was still getting used to, and mine for him. Before, I thought of him ninety percent of the time. Now he was in my head constantly. He never left. I found myself daydreaming often, thinking of his lips on my body, the way he held me so tight sometimes it was almost like he thought I might disappear.
He rolled us so that he was on top of me, his lips kissing every inch of my face and neck.
“I was reading,” I said breathlessly. “And you’re going to rumple my dress.”
He grinned devilishly, and his lips fell away. He held himself up on an elbow as he took me in.
“You look beautiful,” he said, gently pressing his mouth to my shoulder, his teeth biting gently.
I undulated but reluctantly pulled away. “Thanks,” I replied, flushing as I grabbed my book and opened it to the page I left off on.
Noah tilted his head to scan the cover. “The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
“It’s an old favourite.”
“You back the underdog,” he said, a fond smile tugging at his lips. I remembered something he said to me once, about supporting the underdog. It was another thing we had in common. Noah’s hand swept over my hip. “Read some to me,” he purred.
How could I possibly read with him laying across from me, looking like the most tempting being in the whole entire universe? I swallowed and brought my attention to the page, flushing deeper because I was on a particularly sentimental part. I cleared my throat, trying to keep my voice steady.
“After the series of fatal shocks which had overturned everything within her, she had found but one thing intact in her soul, one sentiment— her love for the captain. Love is like a tree; it sprouts forth of itself, sends its roots out deeply through our whole being, and often continues to flourish greenly over a heart in ruins.
“And the inexplicable point about it is that the more blind is this passion, the more tenacious it is. It is never more solid than when it has no reason in it.”
I stopped reading for a moment to glance at Noah. His eyes were fixed on me, but I couldn’t decipher what he was thinking. I closed the book, feeling embarrassed for some baffling reason. Maybe it was all the talk of blind, tenacious passion. All the talk of love. My feelings for him had been intense early on, but now that we’d slept together so many times my heart felt like it was hardly big enough to hold in everything I was feeling.
“Why did you stop?” he whispered, eyelids lowered as he looked over at me.
I couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s nothing … you just make me feel so self-conscious when you stare at me like that.”
He reached out to tuck some hair behind my ear. I practically shuddered at his touch. “I don’t think that’s it. Tell me.”
I closed my eyes, emotion catching in my throat, and in a moment of brave candidness, I blurted, “I’m in love with you.” Noah didn’t respond, and I was too scared to open my eyes. My cheeks heated, and my tongue felt heavy and useless in my mouth. “Say something,” I begged.
“You don’t love me,” he finally responded, voice flat.
I opened my eyes and found him staring at me without expression. “You presume to tell me how I feel?” I challenged.
“I’m unlovable, Estella. You don’t see it yet, but you will.”
Tears threatened to leak out my eyes, “You’re not a murderer. You know that, right?”
He looked away, a shadow falling over him. “That’s not why. If you truly believe in your Bible, then you’d know that a creature such as me isn’t fit to inherit the Kingdom of God.” His eyes flashed to mine. “And I’m certainly not fit to receive the angelic perfection of your love.”