Authors: Clare James
“Oh my God, Noah
,” I say, not sure I want to hear the rest.
“I k
now,” Noah says, his voice full of remorse. “Ben was killed that night.”
Noah hides his face in his hands.
“Oh no,” I say, feeling my heart break for him.
“Ben was a good kid, too. A senior in high school, smart, good-looking. And gone way too early. Because of so many mistakes.”
“It was nobody’s fault, Noah.”
“But it was. We all played a part in it. Foster and I never should’ve left them. I think we are most to blame. Well, I am, anyway. Jenna was my girlfriend and I treated her so badly, and her brother paid the ultimate price. But she didn’t blame
me
.”
“Who did she blame?”
I ask, knowing Jenna isn’t the forgiving type.
“Jules,” Noah answers. “And Foster.
”
It was all starting to make sense now.
“That night tore us all apart, Tabby,” he says with glossy eyes. “Jules and Foster both tried to comfort Jenna, but she wouldn’t have it. She was hurt pretty bad. In the hospital for over a month. I was the only person she let visit.
“After the accident, we all handled things differently. I drank away the pain in private
; Foster did, and still does, in public; and Jules went into a pretty deep depression. She really lost both Jenna and Foster that night. And Jenna’s parents…they blame their daughter for Ben’s death. It’s been hell. That’s why I have to be there for Jenna. I can’t let her down again. I just can’t.”
“I don’
t even know what to say.” I bring Noah’s hand to my lips. “I’m just so sorry. For all of you.”
Noah stops to look at me. “I’m okay. I’ve healed and I’ve learned from my mistakes. But that’s why I don’t want to make any bad decisions with you, Tabby. I’m worried, but I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk. I won’t push you.”
“Thank you.” It’s the only thing I can think to say to him.
When we get to his corner,
I give him a hug and he tightens around my body, melting into me. I don’t want him to have this pain, but it feels good to finally be the one to comfort someone else.
“I’m glad you told me about the accident, Noah,” I say, not letting go. “And I know it’s selfish, but I’m so glad you weren’t in that car.”
“
I just hope someday you can trust me enough to tell me your story.” He pulls away to look at my face, before moving in for a kiss. It’s careful and sweet. “I’ll see you at seven.”
“What?” I’m stunned.
“We had plans. Don’t you want to keep them?” Noah asks with disappointment in his voice.
“It’s not that. I can’t believe you do.”
“Why?” He keeps his hands resting on my shoulders. “I think this is exactly what we need.”
I’m so relieved he feels that way but also nervous as fuck. If we continue with our experiment, that means it’s time for touching below the belt.
“Now is the perfect time for you to put more trust in me, Tabby.”
“Okay,” I stutter. “Seven it is.”
“Good.” Noah nods, and gives me another sweet kiss. But the way he finishes it this time leaves me breathless.
TWENTY-SIX
“Take off your clothes, Tabitha.” Noah orders shortly after seven o’clock.
“Jeez.” I let out a nervous laugh. “Ever heard of foreplay?”
“This is foreplay.” He smirks.
“Okay, just hang on a minute.”
“Nope.” Noah charges at me and flips me over his shoulder. “You’re staying with me, Tab. No going away in your head. No time for second-guessing. We’re doing this.”
I slap his back and beg him to put me down.
He doesn’
t listen until we hit my bed and I land in a pile of pillows.
“Now strip,” he says playfully.
I know what he’s doing. He’s letting me have control to get me comfortable.
Clever bastard.
But it’s what happens
after
that gives me the jitters.
Sitting up, I remove my sweater and bra.
So much
for my sexy underwear.
I lean back to
work on my jeans, but in a blink, Noah is there to intervene.
“Allow me.” He slaps my hands away from my zipper.
He has my pants and underwear off in a matter of seconds.
I bite my lip in anticipation.
“It’s just touching, Tab,” Noah assures me, leaning on his side.
I’
m on my back, which means he has full access to my body.
“I won’t let it go any further. I promise.”
His hands begin the experiment slowly, in the place we left off last time. His fingers trail my collarbone, tickling my skin. I relish in his touch as he places his warm palm on my chest and kisses me, soft and gentle.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m going to make sure you know just how much by the time we’re through.”
I close my eyes and reach for him, but all I can grab is a fistful of his long-sleeve t-shirt. It doesn’t feel right. “Will you do one thing for me?” I ask.
Noah stops his exploration. “Anything,” he says.
“Can we at least make the clothing situation equal?” I look at him from under my lashes, hoping to work a little of my own magic.
His eyes instantly narrow in on me and I feel the heat of his gaze between my thighs.
“Tabby, you underestimate my control.”
“You can keep your boxers on,” I quickly offer.
There’s a low growl in his throat, but he takes off his shirt and jeans. And once he moves against me, I can’t help it. My hands go on their own exploration—running across his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and his chest. They finally find a resting spot on his abs. Noah matches me move for move and doesn’t make me stop. His tongue plunges into my mouth and we are a tangle of arms and legs as we inhale each other.
When Noah finally pulls away from me, he wags a finger. “Naughty girl.” He chuckles. “Now let’s get back to what we started.”
“But I liked that detour,” I whine.
“So did I. That’s the problem. Now be good.”
Noah scoots down the bed, propping himself up on his arms while trailing kisses from my neck, down my chest, to my breast, now heaving with excitement. He looks up at me as he slides my nipple into his mouth.
My eyes roll back in my head.
When I come to, he does the same to my other breast. This time nipping and teasing. His mouth continues its assault and his hands begin moving down the length of my body stopping on my hip. He digs his thumb just under my hipbone, his fingers stretch around to my backside. He squeezes my hip at the exact moment he bites my nipple.
I shudder, so close to falling over the edge I can taste it.
Noah lets out a deep guttural laugh. “You liked that, huh? Let’s see if I can make you do that again.”
I am gone, without words.
Noah doesn’t seem to mind.
He slides further down my body and uses his tongue to draw a line down my stomach.
My teeth scrape across my lip, digging in deep so I don’t call out.
Noah makes his way between my legs and they easily part for him. He kisses the inside of my thigh, his tongue wet and warm. “Is this okay?” he asks.
How do I answer that? This is the best thing I’ve ever felt and I never want it to end. He has won over my body and my mind and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.
“It’s amazing,” I murmur.
“Tabby,” he exhales, and I feel his breath on my most sensitive spot.
On reflex, my hips rise to meet him and I feel him moan against my leg.
Then his mouth finds me.
And I fall over the edge.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I miss you.
Noah’s text comes in at two in the morning, less than an hour after he’s left my apartment.
It hasn’t even been an hour,
I respond.
That’s t
oo fucking long.
I miss you, too.
I can’t get the image of you out of my head when you…you know.
Oh, God. Please do!
I add, mortified.
No
t a chance. You are so fucking sexy.
Stop!
It is my mission in life to see that look again.
My cheeks burn
. I’m actually blushing reading his text.
And again,
he adds, in another message.
I giggle. What this guy does to me.
###
Noah doesn’t hide his disappointment when I tell him I have plans with Jules the following
night. In fact, he demands all my remaining free time over the next week.
Of course,
I comply.
Jules
picks me up in her old boat, a beater really. I smile thinking what Mom would’ve said if one of my friends picked me up in a car like this in Illinois.
Priceless.
Jules waves when I meet her in the parking lot and clears a stack of papers off the seat. I open the passenger side door, but it’s a little sticky and it takes me a minute to get in. I shut the door and prepare for the stink of stale cigarettes and the clouds of smoke that usually accompany Jules. I’m pleasantly surprised when all I smell is citrus. Must be the lemon air freshener hanging off a knob on the dash.
“What?” I ask. “No smokes?”
“God, no,” she says. “
Not in Stella.” She pats the steering wheel.
“Funny you care more about Stella than your own lungs,” I tease. “Now tell me where we’re going.”
“Well,” she says. “I think it’ll be easier to show you.”
She revs the engine and yells, “H
old on.”
I tell her I don’t like surprises, but she laughs me off before she floors it. The poor beater doesn’t respond. It jerks us forward and back trying to find a gear it likes before it can accelerate. When it does, I do hold on, gripping the door handle to keep from being tossed into the dashboard.
We’re silent the rest of the drive as we race cross the Mississippi
before finally slowing to a cruise along the mansion-lined streets of Summit Avenue in St. Paul. We pass the governor’s house, weave through quaint little neighborhoods, and go by a bunch of mom-and-pop restaurants until Jules pulls in front of a place called Mud Puddle.
I eye the brick building
dripping icicle lights. Through the windows I see a counter filled with coffee pots and espresso machines and people holding huge blue mugs. “So a coffee shop is what you were so secretive about?” I ask, a little disappointed. I guess I was hoping for a bit more excitement.
“
Not really,” she says slowly. “It’s what’s inside the coffee house.”
Getting impatient now, I snap, “Spill it. What’s inside?”
“A support group for people with
issues
,” Jules confesses.
“What?” I feel blindsided. She is supposed to be taking my mind off my
issues,
not exposing them to a bunch of strangers.
“Tabby, please trust me,” she says.
There’s that word again.
“
This might help. Give it a try, that’s all I ask. It’s not your typical group therapy.”
“Did you come here after the accident?” I ask.
“Ah, so he finally told you. I’m glad. And yes, this place—the people—helped a lot. Lord knows I couldn’t talk to Jenna. Foster was worthless. And Noah took her side.”
“I wish I could’ve been there for you,” I tell her, sad that she was all alone for so long.
“You’re here now.” She smiles.
“So, is anyone from school in this support group?” The last thing I need is to start the whole psycho-girl image on campus.
“No, but it wouldn’t matter if there were. What happens inside, stays there. I’d trust these people with my life. I have the same fears as you do, Tabby. I don’t want people from school to know about my problems. But I also know I can’t always deal with things on my own.”
I hate it, but I know she’s right.
“I thought these meetings were usually held in smelly church basements or community centers,” I say.
“Told ya, this is not your
typical
group environment.” She cracks open her car door. “Ready?”
I don’t answer. S
he doesn’t deserve an answer after this bait-and-switch. But I do follow her in.
Jules
chats with the barista and orders two lattes. We hang our coats on the pegs in the corner while we’re waiting for the drinks. I scan the room for any group-type people, but don’t find anyone who fits the description.
“Two latte
s, Ms. Jules,” the barista flirts.
Jules
winks at the guy behind the counter and picks up the mugs. She hands one to me and says, “This way.”