Chapter Fourteen
When the doorbell rang, Evelyn jumped up as if she’d been expecting someone. Gayle sniffled and sipped and stared at the food she wanted but couldn’t bring herself to enjoy. Muttered voices from the foyer barely made an impression on her so, when she lifted her gaze from the pizza and saw who stood next to Evelyn, she flinched, spilling wine down her hand and wrist to the Turkish rug under her feet. “Shit. I’m sorry.” She glared at her friend. “Why is he here?”
“He reached out to me earlier today, to make sure you were accounted for, that you had someone to be with, since you weren’t answering his texts.” Evelyn shrugged, looked from Gayle to Noah and mumbled something about checking on Rose before heading up the back staircase. Noah sat in the chair to her right, elbows on his jeans-clad knees, staring at her. She sighed and looked at the ceiling, then back at him.
“I want…” she began, biting her lip hard, tasting blood with the effort to not finish the sentence. Noah leaned closer to her, took her hand and pressed it to his lips before putting it alongside his clean-shaven cheek. He smiled, tilted his head slightly, keeping her hand under his. They sat like this for several minutes, Gayle’s pounding heartbeat slowly calming.
“We should clean this up,” he said, letting go of her and heading into the kitchen. When he appeared with a damp cloth and some cleaning solution, she nodded and took her wine glass to the sink while he did some damage control to the rug. She stood watching him, unable to tear her eyes off his ass, until he finished and took everything back into the kitchen.
She followed him, her heart calm, her mind made up, every inch of her skin prickling in anticipation. She waited while he tucked the cleaner away, rinsed the rag and hung it on the empty dish rack. When he turned, she saw something in his eyes that gave her pause on her current trajectory. Something she’d never seen in their gold-brown depths—something that made her believe he truly was the nice guy he claimed to be.
He looked scared.
She took a step closer to him so they were only separated by six inches of highly charged air. Putting her hand over his heart, she smiled when it raced under her palm. “I want you to take me home and make love to me, Noah Stokes.”
He blinked a few times. His heart beat even faster. He shook his head and backed away, stopping when his butt hit the granite-topped island. His eyes darkened and his face flushed, but he kept shaking his head as she approached him and put both her hands alongside his cheeks. “I want this. I need this. I’m ready…”
“You don’t and you aren’t,” he declared, taking her hands off his face. Fury roiling up in her, she yanked him closer, went up on her toes and kissed him, hard, shoving her tongue between his lips, relishing the taste of him, the sensation of his strong, hard body pressed against hers.
He resisted for about a quarter of a second, before sliding his hands up her back into her hair and meeting her halfway with the kiss. Their tongues tangled. Their teeth clicked together with unpracticed urgency. His hands were on her ass, then her back, then her hair again. Gayle felt alive in a way she’d hadn’t since Ethan’s death—since before Liam’s birth. Her every nerve ending danced with urgency. The distinct press of Noah’s erection against her stomach made her gasp, reach down and unbuckle his belt, unzip his jeans, wanting to feel him in her hand, to understand the reality of this moment. But he stopped her, breaking the kiss and zipping himself back up.
“But…I want…” She reached for him again, feeling like a damned kid in a giant candy store. She’d always been hyper-sexual. It was how she and Ethan had ended up fucking inside his pool house while dozens of company employees partied on the other side of a locked door. She was truly a needy woman, physically speaking. But ever since word had come of the plane crash, her body had gone into total shutdown mode. She hadn’t even had the inclination to masturbate, which was something she’d once enjoyed, sometimes once a day. Granted, she’d woken up from some seriously hot dreams about this young man in the past few weeks, but she’d let the moment pass without touching any part of herself. More of her self-inflicted punishment for not being dead along with her son and husband, she supposed.
But now…now…now she wanted him on her, inside her, all over her. It was a little scary how badly she wanted all these things all at once. But given she’d caged her robust libido for exactly three years to this very day, it wasn’t terribly surprising.
“God, Noah, please,” she whispered, pulling him to her and kissing him until she saw stars. He was a real master at it, she marveled, his skill not lost on her. He liked to tease, nibbling, licking her lips, then plunging in deep, his hands in her hair, his tongue probing and invading her mouth in a way that made her groan and her thighs go weak.
I am, without a doubt, going insane. I’m now even thinking in romance novel language.
He cradled her face between his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. Their breathing was ragged. Gayle wanted to leap out of her clothing and tackle him to the floor. She honestly believed if she didn’t get him between her legs in the next five minutes she would implode. He traced her lips with the rough pad of his thumb. She licked it, then bit down on it, making him flinch and grin at her. His face filled her vision and the clean, clear odor of his lust filled her brain.
“Where can we go?” he asked. “Don’t you live at your mom’s house?”
“Not anymore. I closed on my loft yesterday. Keys are in my purse.”
He pulled away from her and ran his hand around the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Gayle. I’m not sure you’re—”
“So help me, Noah Stokes, if you say I’m not ready one more time…” She placed her hand along the impressive length of his erection under his jeans. “I’m going to go down on my knees right here in my friend’s kitchen and show you how ready I am.” His eyes shone as he slid one hand up her shirt and cupped her breast, using his other to grip her ass and yank her close so he could grind against her. “That’s more like it,” she whispered. Her mind tried to recapture her, to shut her down, to remind her this day was for mourning, not for fucking some kid who’d been following her around like a goddamned puppy dog for the last month and a half.
But she jammed the thought aside and leaned back on the island, so he could kiss her neck, tease her nipples, kiss her yet more with those incredible lips. Finally, she pushed him away. “I’m ready for more. Let’s go.” She grabbed his hand, plucked her purse from the coffee table and headed for the front door. “Evelyn, we’re heading out,” she yelled up the stairs. Noah yanked her around and pressed her up against the wall, his eager hands up her shirt, his thigh between her legs. “Oh, Jesus,” she whispered before he shut her up with a kiss and pinched her nipple so hard she moaned into his mouth and realized she was thrusting her hips forward, rubbing her clit against his thigh right there in the foyer of her friends’ house. She closed her eyes and let the small glory of a quick orgasm suffuse her. She was notoriously hair-trigger, coming fast but coming often, which was way better than taking forever and only coming once, she’d always declared.
“Oh…yes…” Noah hissed into her neck, his other hand pulling her higher on his thigh and she rode it, climaxing with gusto and energy she’d forgotten she possessed. “Oh, damn, that was…” He let go of her and pulled his hand out of her shirt, wincing as he tried to adjust himself under his zipper. She smiled, still battling the guilt threatening to overtake her.
“That was just the beginning, I hope.” She grinned, amused by his seeming astonishment at her behavior. “I’m still doing the thing on my knees thing. Just later. Come on.”
He nodded and followed her out of the door, across the lawn and to her car. She opened the passenger’s-side door and he shook his head.
“You drive,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I’d have a wreck if I tried to.” He grinned at her and got in, tilting the seat back and continuing to adjust himself under the jeans. She stared over at him, wondering at the possibility of what was about to happen, at the sheer unbelievable oddness of it, on this day of all days. He met her gaze. “You all right?” His brown eyes were chocolate-dark with lust.
She swallowed hard, unable to find actual words, and drove them to her new home. It was a short ride and spent in uncomfortable silence. Gayle’s nerve endings sang with desire but her brain was beginning to yammer even louder at her, reminding her she was not doing this for the right reasons. Noah was a nice young man and she was about to use him for nothing more than a pure, physical outlet.
But, oh, what an outlet… It was calling her name, screaming it into her ears, demanding she take action, take control, take what she wanted. Because she sensed that Noah was more than willing to give it to her.
“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath, parked in the lot under the building and got out. Noah was at her side in a heartbeat, tucking her hair behind her ears, kissing her nose, her cheeks, her lips. She closed her eyes and tried to go back to the amazing place she’d been, but it eluded her. Aggravated, and yet still humming with horny energy, she pushed him off her and hesitated, pressed up against the side of her car in the dark, unfamiliar confines of the underground lot.
He stood with his hands on his hips, chest heaving. “Having second thoughts?” His voice cut through her befuddled haze, forcing aside the encroaching, guilty misgivings about what she wanted to do, about what she wanted him to do to her.
“No,” she said, her voice weak. She cleared her throat. “There’s the elevator.” He grinned and ran for it, beating her there by a few steps. “Sixth floor,” she said. The doors slid shut. He touched the stop button and turned to her, hand on his belt buckle. She grinned back at him. “Always wanted a blow job in an elevator, mister?” She let her purse fall to the floor and yanked him forward by his belt loops.
“Nah,” he said, as she unbuckled and unzipped him, sighing with relief when his long, elegant cock was released into the stifling hot space. “I’ve done this plenty of times. You?”
“Nice,” she said, stroking him from root to tip, touching across the fluid beading the head then putting her fingertip in her mouth. He tasted of earth, of grass, of the sort of base essence of a man she’d missed without realizing she was missing it. Ethan had been a big fan of this sort of thing, so she’d made sure she gave the best blow job on the planet. “I seriously doubt you’ve ever had one like this.”
He propped his hands on the elevator wall when she slid down his body, pulling his jeans with her so she could get at all of him. Closing her eyes, she took his cock into her mouth, relishing the moment he tensed right before she let the tip hit her throat. He groaned and thrust forward. She released him, keeping one hand under his heavy sac, loving when his balls contracted as she teased around the edge of his head, knowing exactly the right sensitive spots to tantalize before she deep-throated him again. She stroked, letting her finger move back, closer to his ass before she released him again, smiling up into his beet-red face while she stuck her tongue into the cum now beaded up once more.
“Okay, all right,” Noah said, his voice breathy.
Gayle tightened her grip on the base of his dick and lapped up all the evidence of his eagerness to climax.
“Fine, fine, you proved your point. But I’m warning you, you’d better stop, if you want me to…holy shit!”
Without a word, she took him deep again, consciously relaxing her throat so he could do exactly what he wanted. At the same moment, she pressed her finger into his ass, having lubed it with his cum.
Noah’s hips thrust forward, forcing him deeper into her throat. She breathed through her nose and reached higher inside his ass, finding her target almost immediately “God, god… God!” He shuddered, grunted and came, sending hot liquid down her throat. Gayle closed her eyes and swallowed it, loving the sensation of his raw, primal pleasure, of the way she made him lose control.
He put his hands on her head and withdrew, stumbling backward until he hit the doors, managing to push the number six and release the elevator from its stopped position. Gayle wiped her lips with the back of her hand, zinging from head to toe with pleasure and the sort of erotic anticipation she used to coast along on almost every single day of her life once she’d hooked up with, then fallen in hard love with, Ethan Connolly.
Stop, she commanded herself, closing her eyes not to see Noah’s long, still very hard dick. Do not think about him. Don’t even try. It’s not fair to anyone, least of all yourself. She opened her eyes, smiled and stood slowly, amused at the young man’s frantic efforts to yank up his underwear and jeans. She stopped him and kissed him, knowing he could taste himself on her lips.
The doors slid open directly into her penthouse condo, already arranged with new furniture, dishes, pillows, sheets and towels. She’d gone more than a tad crazy, spending more money than she’d ever thought possible buying the place with cash and empowering the on-staff decorator at her favorite furniture store to go nuts—to furnish her new space the way she saw fit. The last few days she’d gotten plenty of updates and receipts for money spent. But she’d been too caught up in her three-day ignoring efforts.
She’d been so damn caught up in it, her job, her new life, she’d let this date sneak up on her in a big way. She pushed past Noah, needing water and hoping to shove that tickle of remorse, or guilt, or whatever the hell it was, out of her head. The loft was made up of one enormous room with high, industrial ceilings, and a truly impressive chef’s kitchen. Too bad it wasn’t going to get much use, unless she hired somebody.
She poured herself a glass of cold water from the fridge door, downed it and refilled it twice before she believed herself prepared to face him. When she did, he’d managed to put his clothes back together but remained near the elevator doors, eying the space warily. “Nice place,” he said, not moving. Gayle leaned against the counter and observed him from head to toe, allowing herself a quick memory of the first time she’d laid eyes on him, with his hard hat and power tools and mesmerizing brown stare.
“Thanks,” she said, letting him take his time even though her body urged her forward, to let him prove what he wanted to prove to her. “Having second thoughts?” She parroted his earlier, rhetorical question, sipping her third glass of water.
He frowned, shifted from foot to foot, ran his hand around the back of his neck and generally looked way more miserable than a man in his particular position should. The fury began to form thunderheads on the edges of her psyche. When he stayed across the room from her, looking like he wished he could jump back in the elevator and leave, it spilled into her brain, making her speak before she could think.
“Well, I guess you got what you needed. You can go.”
He blinked in the face of her harsh tone. She stood straighter, then marched right up to him, anger dulling her senses and her common sense. Putting a hand on his warm chest, she pushed back, keeping him at an arm’s length. “I said, you got off in my elevator, so you can leave now.”
Noah took her hand and gently put her arm down by her side. “I’m not leaving, Gayle. You know that.”
“Fine. Then come in already. Stop gawking like you’re at a museum or something. It’s a lousy Grand Rapids penthouse condo. It’s not a big deal, trust me.” She headed for the bedroom, wondering if she’d managed to keep those condoms her mother had given her the night she went out with Evelyn.
“Maybe not to you,” he said. Something in his voice made her turn back to look at him. He still hadn’t moved from his spot guarding the elevator. She sighed, then took a long breath and smiled. His frown deepened, but it did nothing to lessen the pure, sexy reality of him.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be flippant. Trust me, having all this…” She waved her arms around, attempting to minimize the many thousands of bucks she’d dropped in the last week on this stupid place. “It’s not something I was born into. I married into it. Now, I’m not married. You know the whole story. But I am horny has hell…so…” She sidled up to him, went up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. He indulged her for a few minutes, ramping up her lust with his killer kissing skills before he took her arms from around his neck and pushed her away.
“Gayle, listen,” he whispered. She squirmed, aggravated at his stalling. “I don’t know…I mean…I’m not really….” He let go of her and turned away, head hanging low.
“Noah,” she said, running her hands up under his shirt to his shoulders and lifting the dark T-shirt over his head. He kept his back to her, which was fine with her since his rear view was as pleasant as any other. “Noah,” she repeated before pressing her lips to his shoulder blades, tasting salt, the outdoors and a hint of leather. He remained still, letting her touch his back and arms, shivering when she wrapped her arms around him and teased his nipples before exploring the lovely terrain of his abs.
He was breathing heavily when he turned again, looming over her, but not the way Ethan used to—stop! “Stop,” she said out loud, slapping her hands over her ears. She felt pulled in a million different directions at once—only one of them with the potential for a happy ending. All the other directions were exerting plenty of pressure, including the dark corner where she’d stuffed anything and everything regarding what had happened to her three years ago today.
Her head pounded. Her ears burned. The rest of her flamed white hot from her scalp to her toes. They stared, unmoving, arms crossed, at apparent impasse. What in God’s name was she doing here, with this man, the smell of him all over her, her throat sore from sucking his damn cock?
Granted, he looked just as conflicted as she felt. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed together, his shoulders hunched. Gayle’s knees gave out and she dropped onto the leather couch she’d never seen before walking into this space—her space, she supposed. “Well, shit.”
Letting go of the lust that sustained her for the past hour or two not only sucked all the energy out of her, it left her mind free and open to the onrush of memories. She flopped back, hands over her face and gave in to it, let her three-year mental image bank open and spill its guts. Images of Ethan, Liam, of the three of them, of her and Ethan in the early days of their relationship, clogged all her senses. Gayle did nothing to stop them. She couldn’t. There was no point. This was her life. She’d been a fool to think otherwise.
The sound of her son’s voice, the ghost-memory of her husband’s hands on her body, his smile, his laugh, the sensation of her zillion-count Egyptian cotton sheets against her bare skin—it was all fresh, as if it had all just happened to her. This wasn’t new. She understood it, could grasp it and realized all she knew how to do was ride it out in her usual fashion.
She stumbled over to what she hoped was the liquor cabinet. Yanking open the doors, she blessed the money spent on having the designer lady prepare her home sight-unseen while admiring all the top shelf booze arrayed in front of her. “Hell yeah,” she said under her breath, grabbing the Pappy Van Winkle bottle. “Time to drink,” she said, turning and almost running right over Noah. “Excuse me,” she said.
He held out his hand. She clutched the bottle to her chest. He snagged it, opened it, took a long slug and handed it back to her. “Well then,” she said, knocking back her own drink, shuddering as it burned its way into her chest. “Welcome to my nightmare, Noah Stokes.” She waggled the bottle and made her way back to the—to her—couch. He joined her, propped his feet next to hers on the matching leather ottoman and held out his hand. She slapped him a high five.
“No, give me the goddamned bourbon.” She took another drink then handed it over, watching him suck back a portion, wipe his lips, then prop the bottle on his thigh. “This is fucked up,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. She patted his cheek, snagged the bottle back and leaned into him, letting the tears flow.