Chapter Fifteen
Lauren
“HELLO?” I SAY, jerked into alertness the second I see Noah’s name pop up on my phone. It’s late. No one calls with good news this late. My heart instantly races.
“Is this Lauren?”
Uh, that’s not Noah’s voice. My mind gets ahead of me, and this is the coroner calling to tell me they found Noah’s body on the side of the road after he crashed his motorcycle.
“Yes.”
“This is Joey, from The Roadhouse. I got your man here trying to come see you. He’s drunk as a skunk. Any chance you can come get him? Already took his keys.”
“Yeah,” I say, heart slowing down with relief. “I’ll be right there.”
I hang up and swing my legs out of bed, too shaken to be tired. I pull on a sweatshirt, go to the bathroom, then take off, having to program the address into my GPS on the way. I’ve only been there once, and I wasn’t exactly in sound mind when I left.
Twenty-five minutes later, I pull into the gravel lot and text Noah. A minute goes by before he responses. Then it’s another two minutes before I see him stumble out of the bar. Tiredness has set in, and now I’m just pissed. It’s nearing three AM and I need to be at work at seven.
His face lights up when he sees me, and part of my anger melts away. He opens the passenger side door and gets in.
“You stink like smoke,” I blurt when he leans in to kiss me. His lips taste like whiskey.
“Probably,” he says and leans back into the seat. “You didn’t have to come get me.”
“You’re drunk. How else where you going to get home?”
“I’ll be fine in a little while.”
I drive out of the parking lot. “I don’t think so.”
His eyes close and he doesn’t respond. Just how much did he have to drink tonight? Neither of us speaks on the way back to my house. Noah follows me inside. The dogs take advantage of his drunk mind to lick him to death as he just sits there and takes it.
“Last time I was drunk at your house, we made a baby,” he slurs as he struggles to his feet. He grabs me around the waist. “Want to make another?”
“We can’t make another. And no, I want to go back to bed. I have to get up and go to work in a few hours.”
He spreads his legs and pulls me closer. “Call off.”
“I can’t just call off for no reason.”
He moves his mouth to my neck and good god, even drunk, that man can work his tongue and make me quiver. “I can give you a reason.”
“As tempting as that is, I’m going to pass. Go take a shower, you smell.”
His hand slips inside my pajama pants. “Don’t go to work. Tell them you’re sick. Love sick.”
“That would be a lie.” I smile and shake my head. Noah pulls away and the hurt in his eyes is as shocking as a slap to the face. “I’m not sick,” I say quickly. “Plus I get paid hourly. Missing twelve hours puts a dent in my paycheck.” I take his hand and guide him through the house and into the small bathroom.
“I have lots of money.” He leans against the sink as I strip him of his clothes. I’m not in the mood for sex. I’m annoyed and tired and dreading going through a freaking long-ass shift on little sleep. “You can not work and I’ll pay for things. You can stay home and be a mom.”
He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s too drunk. Because in order to be a stay-at-home mom while he provides for the family, we have to be a family first.
And he’s not even my boyfriend.
“Take a shower, Noah.” I help him step out of his pants. I keep my eyes up and my hands at my own side. I don’t trust myself not to fall for his sex appeal, no matter how tired I am. “Then come to bed.”
He nods and takes a step toward the shower. Then he stops and grabs me.
“You’re too good to me, Lauren,” he exhales, burying his head in my hair. I wrap my arms around him, taking in his warm skin and muscles.
“Oh trust me, I know.”
“I don’t deserve you.” There is more emotion in those four words than I’ve heard in a lifetime of conversation with Noah Wilson. My breath catches in my chest and I’m suddenly cold, needing to be pressed closer to his naked skin for warmth. “You’re too good for me.”
I close my eyes and embrace him, feeling his heart beat against mine. “We can talk about it in the morning.” When you’re sober. He might not feel the same about me then.
I hope he does.
And I didn’t expect that.
“Take a shower then come cuddle with me?”
He pulls away and gives me a lopsided grin. “I can do that.”
“Don’t pass out in there,” I warn, grinning back.
“I have to take a piss,” he says suddenly and turns around to face the toilet. There goes the romance.
I get in bed, trying to hang onto Noah’s words, trying to see how this won’t become a pattern. Because Noah has changed. He doesn’t get trashed and stay at the bar all hours of the night. It’s not who he is anymore.
It can’t be if this is going to work.
Tears pool in my eyes. I want this to work so badly. I want Noah in my life, in our lives. The fear of not having him is like a knife to the heart, more painful than I ever imagined. And now I know there is no use in denying it: I’m in love with Noah.
I’m almost asleep when Noah crawls under the covers next to me. He’s wet, like he forgot to dry himself off, and he’s naked of course. His skin is hot from the water, and his dick is hard.
Hard and pressing against my ass.
Fuck.
“Are you awake?” he whispers, lips brushing against my ear. For a split second, I consider not answering so he rolls over and goes to sleep. Because that’s what I need to do.
Though, sleep will be elusive when my lady bits are tingling and getting wet at the thought of his cock.
“No,” I whisper. “But I should be.”
“I rarely do what I should.”
I roll over and he moves on top of me. “I noticed.”
He kisses me, heat spreading from his lips throughout my body. I brush his wet hair back and kiss him harder. Screw sleep. One night won’t kill me. Because I want to screw Noah.
“Lauren,” he says gruffly, but not gruff enough to hide his emotion. “You are entirely too good for me.”
“That’s not true.” My voice is quiet as I look into his sky-blue eyes.
“It is,” he says with certainty. “You always have been.”
I lean up and kiss him, silencing any words that might spill out of his mouth. If he’s going to tell me how he feels—really feels—I want him to remember it in the morning.
It doesn’t take long before my clothing is removed, and he’s spooning himself against me, stroking my clit as I squirm with pleasure. He waits until I come before sliding inside. I bend my legs and hook one over his, giving him access to my fun zone. He keeps working his fingers as he thrusts in and out.
Then he lowers his head and kisses the nape of my neck and, fuck, there is so much going on right now I almost can’t handle it. I cry out as I come for the second time, body shuddering. The orgasm takes command of my body and my ears ring, toes and fingertips tingling. Noah pulls out and gets on top of me, fucking me as hard as he can.
So hard it would hurt if I wasn’t still floating in bliss. He comes then collapses on top of me, his weight crushing my sensitive nipples against my chest and putting too much pressure on my abdomen. I push against him.
“Sorry,” he pants and rolls off me. He lets out a deep breath and puts one hand over his head.
My eyes flutter closed and I wait for the feeling to come back to my toes.
“Noah?” I push up and see that he’s already passed out.
*
“You’re moody.”
I glare at Noah. “I’m tired.”
“Don’t take it out on me.”
I stick my fork into my pasta and twirl the spaghetti around. “Who else can I take it out on? And besides, it’s your fault I’m tired.”
“You seemed to enjoy that last night.”
I take a bite of food before I answer. “Maybe I faked it.”
“You did not fake that. No one fakes it with me.”
I respond by rolling my eyes. “And yes, the sex was good, but the whole getting you at two in the morning wasn’t.” I just got home from work a little while ago. Noah stayed here all day. He couldn’t really leave since his bike was still at the bar, and I know he slept past noon.
Must be nice.
“Yeah … sorry about that.”
He called me when he got up and left a long voicemail, thanking me and apologizing. But this is the first time we got to actually talk since last night. I came home to dinner on the table, which almost made me forgive him.
“What happened last night?” I ask.
“You don’t remember? You shouldn’t be drinking, you know.”
I roll my eyes, not amused. “I mean, why did you go to the bar and drink so much?”
Noah looks away and shrugs. “Just felt like hanging out with the guys. I didn’t, uh, mean to drink so much. It just happened.” He grinds his jaw, tense. What else isn’t he telling me? His brow furrows. “Lauren?”
I bite my lip and look across the table from him. “Yeah?”
“I won’t do it again. I promise.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, considering each word carefully. “I don’t care if you go to the bar to hang out with your friends. I don’t care if you drink. But I do care about you doing something that could get you hurt because what you do affects me now. Affects us.”
He lowers his head, looking guilty. “I know, and I feel awful. Last night I was thinking about…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen again.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I don’t want to let you down.”
“You didn’t let me down. You just made me tired.” I give him a smirk. “Make it up with a back rub, okay?” My eyes lock with Noah’s. Fool me twice…
“I like this, Lauren,” he says softly. “Being with you, being together. Last night I … never mind. But this, what we have, is nice.”
I smile, finding it cute as he fumbles over his words. “I like this too, Noah. Things have been crazy and scary, and having you with me helps. Probably more than you know.”
He holds my gaze steady and smiles. “Want to make things official? Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
“I do.”
“Good. Because that would be really awkward if you didn’t.”
“And now I can at least say my boyfriend knocked me up.”
Noah chuckles. “And I can say I got my girlfriend pregnant. Not just some random chick I took home from the bar.”
“We’re so classy.”
“The classiest.” We finish dinner then move into the living room. Noah starts rubbing my shoulders.
“That feels so good,” I say. “My back has been hurting all day.”
“This might be a stupid question, but is it from being pregnant? You don’t have much of a belly yet at fourteen weeks.”
I think so, because it never hurt like this before. I can tell things are, uh, shifting around down there.”
“Is it safe to keep working? I meant what I said last night.” I flick my eyes to him. I wasn’t sure if he remembered. “You don’t have to work as much. You pull in a lot of hours.”
“There are certain things I have to avoid, but I don’t do more than the average person,” I say. “Actually, when do you work? Shouldn’t you have done something today?”
“I had a shoot scheduled.”
“And you missed it?”
“It was an outdoor shoot and it rained. I got lucky.”
“Yeah, you did.”
He takes another few bites before going on to explain.
“I like to schedule stuff in clusters. Like do a shit ton of shoots one week then take some time off. I’m booked this weekend, actually.”
“I thought you hated working weekends.”
“I do, but a model I shot in the beginning of her career begged me to do her wedding. It’s in Chicago, so it’s not that far. Come with me. We can spend the night, make a weekend getaway out of it.”
“That would be kind of fun.” I shake my head. “But I can’t just leave the dogs.”
“Have your parents watch them. Say it’s practice for when we drop off the kid so we can have sexy time.”
“Yeah, I’ll say just that to them.”
Noah flashes a smile and damn, he’s charming. “There’s no use denying it at this point. They already know you’re not a virgin.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to tell them the details of our personal life.”
“Don’t most grandparents assume that’s why people want kid-free nights?”
“I don’t know, maybe?” I wrinkle my nose. “I’d rather not think about it.”
“You should. Because I’ll want sexy time with you after the baby is born.”
*
“I’m not getting any tonight, am I?” Noah asks me about two hours later. I just took him to pick up his bike at The Roadhouse.
“You got some last night.”
“Yeah, but that was so long ago.”
I laugh. “I won’t rule it out. You know, since you’re my boyfriend now and all.”
He comes over to me as I take my shoes off and toss them next to the door. He wraps his arms around me, hands landing on my ass. “It’s hot hearing you say that.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Yeah, that.”
I look into his blue eyes and then he kisses me, stubble-covered face pressing hard against me, his soft lips crashing into mine. He picks me up and carries me to the couch, gently laying me down and moving on top of me, careful not to squish my abdomen.
“Lauren,” he starts, brushing my hair off my shoulder and behind my back. He lowers his head and kisses my neck before looking into my eyes again. For a split second I think he’s going to tell me he loves me.
My heart lurches in my chest.
I don’t want him to, as much as I do.
I want him to because it’s what should happen: two people in love, bringing a brand-new, innocent life into the world. I don’t want him to because I’m scared.
Scared it won’t last.
Scared he’s just saying it because he thinks he should.
Scared he’s going to mess up, get drunk again, and break my heart.
I close my eyes and pull him to me. I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. He presses his lips to mine and I lose myself in his kiss. I don’t waste any time. My fingers wrap around the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. Noah sits up and raises his arms. I take it off and throw it on the floor. I move my hands back to Noah, running them up his back, feeling every ridge of muscle underneath my fingertips.
Noah lets out a deep breath and sits up, unbuttoning my pants and sliding them off. His pants come off next, then my shirt, and now we’re both naked on the couch. He’s hard already, and the wet tip of his cock presses against me.
He puts his mouth to my neck and I swear that man has a magic tongue. Shivers run through me, bringing warmth to my core. He works his way down, kissing, biting, and sucking at my skin, until his head in between my legs. He tosses them over his shoulders and moves so that he’s crouching on the ground and I’m sitting on the couch.
Fuck yes.
I put my hands on his head, tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling in rhythm with his tongue lashing against my clit. The muscles in my stomach tighten and I toss my head back, panting.
He slides his hands under my ass and lifts my hips, and holy shit that feels amazing. I let out a slow breath, wanting this to last. I could come right now but don’t want it to end.
Fuck it. I can come again. And again.
I always do with Noah.
Desire ripples through me and I moan, the orgasm taking over. Noah presses his face harder against me and I squirm, so overcome with pleasure I think I might pass out.
Then I come for the second time.
He moves his head away and yanks me forward, rising up onto his knees. He keeps one hand on me, and grabs his cock with the other, guiding it into me.
He enters with no hesitation. I’m wet and ready for him, but it still catches me off-guard and I cry out, reaching for him, wanting to feel his skin against mine, to wrap my arms around him, and hold him close.
The angle he’s fucking me is new, and it’s hitting me in a way I’ve never experienced. It’s almost too much.
Black dots float in my vision, and my ears are still ringing. Noah quickens his thrusts, pushing in harder and harder. My breasts bounce each time he rams into me, hurting so good.
“Nooo … Noah,” I pant, slitting my eyes open to look at him.
He slows his movements and leans forward. In a graceful sweep, he picks me up so we both lay on the couch. I wrap my legs around him and he kisses me. I run my hands through his hair, just as he puts his mouth on my neck again. Yes, he most definitely knows that’s my weak spot.
I come for the third time, body going rigid and nails digging into his skin. His breath comes out in ragged huffs and I know he’s holding out on his own orgasm, not wanting to stop fucking me yet.
I rake my nails up his back and he shudders, letting out a guttural moan. I love a man who isn’t afraid to make noise in bed. There’s something so hot about the animalistic sounds coming from sex. You can’t hold back, can’t keep quiet if you want to. It takes over in all aspects until you’re screaming so loud it wakes the neighbors.
I run my nails over him again, pressing hard enough to leave red lines over his tattoos. His breathing gets heavier and heavier. I move my hands to his face, feeling his rough beard under the palm of my hands.
“Lauren,” he grunts, putting his lips against mine. He pushes deep inside and lowers himself, letting out another moan as he comes. I kiss him, tasting myself on his lips.
He holds himself in me, cock pulsing, then slowly pulls back.
“Told you I was getting some,” he says, voice breathy. He flashes that famous grin, and I want to fuck him all over again.
“I never said no.”
“Just admit you can’t resist this.” He sits up and motions to his body.
I laugh. “You know I can’t. The second your shirt comes off, I’m a goner. Really, the power you hold over me isn’t fair.”
“Don’t overdo it now,” he teases. “I want to believe you.”
“I think coming three times in ten minutes is evidence enough.”
He grins again. “Yep. I’m good.”