Throttled (Dirty Air 1)

Noah laughs as he pulls me toward the bed. It’s one of my favorite sounds, gruff and short. He shows me exactly what he can do even if I’m drunk.

26

Maya

I wake up the next morning not being able to breathe. Something heavy lies on my chest, making it difficult for my lungs to expand, not to mention the warmth against my side.

I bolt up and try to piece together what happened. My body relaxes when I find Noah’s golden arm wrapped around my stomach. He rolls onto his other side at my jolt, replacing me with a pillow, looking innocent as he hugs it. I smile down at him and enjoy a younger-looking Noah.

My memories come back of how we stayed in his room last night, making out like teenagers.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand with a text from Santi.

Santi (09/17 9:13 a.m.): Where are you? You didn’t sleep in your bed.

A wave of shame hits me as I type out another lie. My thumb hovers over the send button, unsure about how far my deception will go. But Santi wouldn’t understand. At least not during this season, with tensions through the roof between him and Noah. I seal my fate by pressing send.

Maya (09/17 9:15 a.m.): Stayed with Sophie. Did you just get to the room?

Santi (09/17 9:18 a.m.): Uh, yeah. I’ll text you after I take a nap.

A nap at 9 a.m.? He’s always preferred to be private about his love life ever since he and his high-school girlfriend broke up after he chose F1 over her. Now my brother keeps his heart locked up like a maximum-security prison.

I squeal when Noah’s arms tug me back to bed, ending my conversation with Santi. Warm sheets wrap around my body as Noah pulls me into his chest.

“What are you doing up this early?” I dig how his voice sounds extra gravelly in the morning.

I lay my head on his chest. “Santi texted me to check in. Told him I’m staying with Sophie.”

“Mm. When does your flight take off?” His fingers drag through my hair, untangling knotted strands.

“Later today on a red-eye. We’re flying straight to the next race.”

He pauses his hand movements. “You know what that means?”

Can’t say I do. My brain doesn’t function in the morning without coffee.

My voice strains. “No. But tell me.”

More running of fingers through my hair. “Now that you’re sober enough to consent, I have a few things in mind.”

Noah’s lips find mine, kissing me senseless. I break away after a few minutes.

“I want to shower first. I feel gross after the club last night.” My nose scrunches at the thought of not washing off my makeup. I may or may not look like a racoon, but I need a mirror to confirm.

“What a great idea. Let me help you.” Noah hauls me out of bed and toward the bathroom. He places me on my feet before he sets up the shower, turning knobs and checking the temperature.

“It’s a tough task. Are you sure you’re up for the job?” I bat my lashes.

I don’t even know if I’m up for the job. Are we doing this? Going all the way?

Noah answers the question for me when he pulls off the big T-shirt I wore to sleep. I don’t even question how I ended up in said T-shirt, but I’m going with the flow, not wanting to kill the moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He runs a hand through his already messy hair. His eyes roam over my body, taking me in. The way he looks at me makes me feel sexy, invigorated, and brazen.

I find it tough to distinguish steam from tension in the bathroom. It’s hot, he’s hot, the whole situation is fucking hot. My body feels feverish as he slowly appraises me again. His fingers drag across the slopes of my breasts, my skin pebbling at his touch, while excitement bubbles within me. His hand finds the clasp of my bra and he snaps it off, leaving only my lace panties. The last barrier between us.

My boobs bounce as I move closer to him. I decide he looks entirely overdressed and his boxer briefs need to go. My hand dips below his waistband, brushing against his cock, swiping at the bead of pre-cum on his tip. His body tenses and he groans.