CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE SMELL OF BACON AND freshly brewed coffee invaded my senses and I fluttered my eyes open. A subtle glow filled the modern bedroom with simple furnishings. My clothes lay crumpled in a ball on the floor, memories of the previous night flashing through my mind. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of falling asleep beside Noah…and all the benefits that went along with it.
My stomach growled, the aroma of fried pig making me salivate. As much as I didn’t want to leave the bed, I was famished. Stepping onto the hardwood floor, I found Noah’s button-down shirt and put it on. I swam in it, but as I’d learned over the past few months, he loved when I wore his clothes. I loved wearing them, too, basking in his scent that was like an aphrodisiac to me.
I padded out of his bedroom and down a set of stairs in the stunning colonial he owned in the Boston suburb of Melrose. It was September, and we had become nearly inseparable. We stayed at my apartment some nights, but I preferred Noah’s house. As did Pee Wee, judging by the way my slobbery hound currently followed Noah around the kitchen, begging for table scraps.
“Pee Wee, you’re underfoot,” he admonished. My dog simply lifted a paw, giving Noah that pathetic look no one with a soul could deny. Shaking his head, Noah grabbed one of the pieces of bacon and tossed it to him. I didn’t even think the dog chewed it before swallowing.
I leaned against the doorway, just watching this beautiful man maneuver around the kitchen. He was truly a sight to behold. There was nothing sexier than a man holding a spatula, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.
Before Noah entered my life, I would have turned my nose up at couples doing stupid couple things — having breakfast together, holding hands in public, feeding the ducks in the park, pretending they were tourists in the city they called home, and planning weekends away at a bed and breakfast. This was no longer the case. We’d become that cheesy couple I used to feel sorry for. I’d been convinced they were missing out on so much fun and excitement by committing themselves to each other. I’d shunned the idea of being in a serious relationship because I thought the adventure would end. I was so wrong. I’d never felt as fulfilled as I had these past few months.
Noah was my perfect match in every sense of the word. He never turned his nose up when I suggested we do something crazy, like attend random open houses where we would use terms we’d learned from my complete obsession with home improvement television to comment on each house.
“It’s a beautiful entrance, isn’t it, muffin?” he would say to me.
“It certainly does make a statement, but I had hoped for something a bit grander, like at our summer home in the Hamptons.”
“How many bedrooms does it have?” he would ask the realtor. “Because my wife has quite the appetite, if you know what I mean.”
For the first time in my life, I was with someone who understood all my quirks and idiosyncrasies. We weren’t one of those boring couples I saw sitting across from each other at restaurants, discussing last night’s episode of Wheel of Fortune, not realizing they had absolutely nothing in common. Noah and I had fun and genuinely enjoyed each other’s presence. We didn’t have to sit at a stuffy restaurant and make small talk to learn about each other. There were no stilted conversations about our high school crush or our most embarrassing moment. None of that mattered. All I cared about was living in the now, not about what awaited me in the next hour, week, or year.
Noah turned back toward the stove, and I took the opportunity to silently pad into his kitchen. Sneaking up behind him, I stood on my toes and wrapped my arms around his bare torso, planting kisses on his broad shoulder blades. I could feel him smile by the way his body relaxed into mine. Being in a relationship was a funny thing. I’d spent so much time with Noah, I could tell what expression he wore without even looking at him. And I knew, at this moment, he had a look of absolute peace and contentment on his face.
“Morning,” he murmured, then slowly turned around.
“Morning.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you. I just figured you might be hungry after last night’s activities.” He winked.
“You figured right.” I feathered my lips against his. “Although I would have rather had another taste of you first.”
He moaned, deepening the kiss. “How about after?”
“I can deal with that.”
“Good. Now, go sit. Food’s almost ready.” His hand roamed down my side, then landed on my ass, giving it an unexpected squeeze. I squealed, then headed to a little breakfast nook just past his large eat-in kitchen. I lowered myself into one of the chairs at the bistro table, smiling to see he’d already prepared my coffee the way I liked it…just a hint of cream and no sweetener.
Noah approached, carrying two plates of food. He placed one down in front of me, then sat opposite me.
“Thanks for cooking.”
“I love making you breakfast. Hope the eggs are to your liking.”
I grabbed my fork and sliced into the egg, the yoke spreading all over my plate. “Extra runny, just how I like them.”
We barely spoke as we ate our breakfast of eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Once we’d finished, Noah placed his napkin on his plate and met my eyes. He reached across the table, grabbing my hand. There was something new in his gaze. A ball of unease formed in my stomach.
Over the past several months, we’d kept everything light and fun. There were no serious conversations about where our relationship was going. Now, as I saw the sincerity in his expression, felt the delicate way his thumb caressed my knuckles, I feared our relationship was about to turn down a road I wasn’t prepared for.
“Molly,” he began, a look of peace on his face, at odds with the horror that filled me. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but I—”
“Look at the time.” I jumped up from the table, tearing my hand from his. “Don’t you need to get to work soon? You cooked. I’ll clean up.” I hastily cleared the plates, feeling the heat of Noah’s gaze studying me as I rushed into the kitchen.
I turned on the faucet, hoping the sound of the rushing water would drown out whatever he wanted to tell me. I knew what it was. Over the past several weeks, I’d used every trick in my book to evade this precise conversation. I saw it in his eyes. I felt it in the way he held me. I heard it in his voice. I just didn’t think I could bear to listen to those words fall too freely from his lips. It would change everything. Those three words had a tendency to destroy people.
When I started seeing him, I knew this was a probability. I simply hoped it wouldn’t happen for a long time. Wasn’t there some sort of time requirement before being allowed to say those words? A few months wasn’t long enough. How could someone develop such strong feelings in such a short period of time?
After rinsing the plates and putting them in the dishwasher, I went about wiping down the counters. But I could still feel Noah’s eyes watching my every move. I looked up to see him leaning against the island, his brow furrowed.
“Molly,” he repeated, his voice soft.
I bit my lip, desperate for a way out of this conversation yet again. In my experience, there was one thing that always worked.
A sly smile crawling across my lips, I threw the dishtowel on the counter, then sauntered toward him, heat in my gaze. Raising myself onto my toes, I brushed my lips against his. He groaned, sneaking his hand beneath the shirt I wore, pressing me against him. He ran his hand up and down my side with light fingers. My flesh prickled with goosebumps.
“I need to shower,” I murmured. “Care to join me?” I raised a brow, then retreated from him, swaying my hips as I walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. When I disappeared into the master bathroom, I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful to have successfully skirted the conversation I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to have.
Shrugging out of Noah’s shirt, I stepped toward the glass shower, which could easily fit at least six people, and turned on the water. I knew I couldn’t avoid this discussion for much longer. I just needed time to wrap my head around what this would mean.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even hear Noah approach as I stood with my eyes closed, my entire body taut. His hand brushed my hip, then he spun me around, his expression still too tender for my liking.
“Molly, I—”
Before he could say anything else, I forced my mouth against his. He stiffened momentarily before melting into the kiss. He pulled me toward him, our naked bodies flush with each other as steam filled the bathroom.
With careful steps, he backed me into the shower. Our mouths never broke contact. The sensation of Noah’s lips on mine and the cascading water surrounding us made me crave him even more. I deepened the kiss, my nails digging into his back.
He tore away from me, his chest heaving. When he stepped toward me, a carnal and fiery expression on his face, my heart raced. With each step he took, I retreated until my back hit the tile wall. The coolness momentarily soothed the heat burning inside me.
With hooded eyes, he gripped my hips, then hoisted me up, forcing my legs around his waist. “Is this what you want?”
I nodded, words escaping me.
“You’re insatiable,” he murmured, his lips meeting mine once more as he slid into me.
I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of fullness as he moved inside me. It didn’t matter how many times we’d done this, every time was new, unmatched, more pleasurable than the last. Being with Noah was an experience. One minute, he’d be the caring, compassionate man he was when I first met him as my father’s doctor. The next, he’d be ravenous, greedy, voracious, his carnal tone and rough, calloused hands bringing me higher than I thought possible. His appetite was just as ravenous as mine, and he always seemed to know exactly what I needed. Noah was a drug, and I an addict who would beg, steal, or maim someone just to get it.
I used to have a plan, a schedule, a routine. I’d get up, wake Drew, have coffee, then write until it was time to visit my father. In the evening, if I felt like it, I’d see whomever my unknowing muse was at the time. Since Noah, that had all changed. There was no morning wakeup call for Drew. There was no coffee by myself. I rarely stepped foot in the café lately. I’d even convinced myself it wasn’t the end of the world if a day or two went by that I didn’t go visit my father.
I’d become everything I swore I never would…a woman who made all her decisions based on someone else. I’d always been fiercely independent, but over the past several months, I’d become dependent on Noah for my happiness.
“Look at me, Molly,” Noah said, breaking me out of my thoughts. His voice was soft, yet demanding.
I met his gaze. His movements were gentle and well-choreographed, the emotion and depth in his eyes too much for me to handle. I forced his lips back to mine as I thrust against him, trying to pick up the pace. My body and motions pleaded with him to give me something else, something less meaningful, something less frightening.
“Slow down,” he soothed. “I want you to feel me, Molly.”
“I do, Noah.” I ran my hands through his wet hair, tugging at it, unable to make sense of all the sensations and thoughts running through me at that precise moment. “God, I feel you. I feel so much.”
“I feel so much, too.” He smiled, then licked his lips before kissing me. The way his tongue caressed mine was tender, restrained, benevolent.
I opened my mouth, a tiny exhale of air escaping my lungs. I never understood what would cause someone to be so overcome with emotion during sex that they would tear up. In that moment, I did. It wasn’t that my heart was so full it was going to burst. I just felt so much that the only way to soothe the fire in my veins, the ache in my core, the tingle on my flesh was with tears.
“Oh, Molly,” Noah moaned, kissing my face, my neck, my chest.
My breathing increased, everything about this moment so much more than I ever thought intimacy could be. I was wound tight, my body perched perilously on the peak, waiting for that final push to make me crumble before Noah’s talented body.
Clutching my face in his hands, he held my head in place, not permitting me to hide from him. The simple act of our eyes glued to each other was more penetrating, more sensual, more erotic than him moving inside me. He dug his hands into my cheeks with more vigor, his gaze fiery.
“God, I love you, Molly,” he cried out, shuddering inside me. He crushed his lips against mine, his declaration and the sudden invasion of his tongue in my mouth my undoing. I let go, my brain a slave to the rest of my body.
In the aftermath, as I slowly returned to earth, I didn’t know what to think. I remained motionless, my eyes glued to the opposite wall of the shower, wishing with everything I’d simply imagined those words flowing too casually from his mouth…but I knew I hadn’t.
A loud ringing echoed in the bathroom. “Shit,” Noah groaned. Letting out an aggravated breath, he reluctantly helped me find my footing. “I have to get that.”
Avoiding his eyes, I nodded, thanking the gods for intervening. “Sure. Sure.” I turned from him, grabbing the loofah.
“Molly?” His voice was full of concern. “Is something wrong?”
“No. No,” I answered in a clipped tone. “I’m fine.”
I sensed his eyes on my back for what was probably only a second, but felt like hours. Finally, the door to the shower closed and he left me to answer his phone.
I released the breath I’d been holding, looking down at my trembling hands. Most women would be over the moon if the man they’d been dating for the past few months finally said that four-letter word. Not me. It didn’t matter that I knew the real story behind the motto I’d placed an unhealthy dependence on throughout my life. A big part of me still believed love wasn’t real, that it destroyed everything. Why had so many of my friends left their marriages? Why had some of their husbands cheated on them? Why had they been abandoned to take care of their kids? Why did my brother have to sacrifice everything he’d ever dreamed of because the woman who promised to be at his side in sickness and health had no intention of holding up her end of the bargain? I didn’t care that my father and brother chose to look past all of that, still holding onto the hope of finding love again. I didn’t want that to be me. I didn’t want love to destroy me, too.
The door to the shower swung wide and I spun around to see Noah fully dressed, a frantic air about him.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
He opened his mouth, then closed it, turmoil in his steel blue eyes.
“Noah?”
“I just love seeing you naked,” he said finally, a smile forming on his lips. “I have to go into work. You can stay as long as you’d like. I’ll call you later. I love you, Molly.” He kissed my cheek, pausing for a response. When I remained silent, he blew out a breath, then left.
I remained still, listening for the faint sound of the front door closing. Once enough time had passed and I knew I was alone, I sank to the floor, allowing the water to run over me, despite the fact my skin had begun to prune.
Pulling my legs into my body, I did something I hadn’t in years. I cried. And not just a few tears. I cried big, fat, ugly tears, gasping to breathe through my sobs.
I’d always thought I was a normal twenty-nine-plus-one-year-old independent woman who shunned traditional relationships so I could experience everything young adulthood had to offer. Now the realization I was anything but normal washed over me.
I never shed a single tear when my brother was injured, when family members passed on, even when my father got his diagnosis and I had to watch the deterioration of his brain over the past few years. None of that broke me. The one thing that finally ended up being my undoing was a man I cared about more than I should telling me he loved me.