Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 34941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Her expression is like the sun. I don't know if I've ever made anyone this happy in my entire life, and a wave of possession rolls over me so intensely that it shakes me to my bones. I want to make Noelle happy every day for the rest of our lives. I don't just want to, I WILL. Sitting here, basking in her joy, I know for a fact that I will never be able to let her go, never be able to get her out of my head. This is my girl. Period. Full stop.
While I'm having a full-on crisis, Noelle melts back into the couch with the most relaxed sigh I've ever heard. "I can't believe it. I'm going to pass. Thank goodness. My mom would have lost her marbles had I flunked out freshman year."
I chuckle. This, at least, is a conversation I'm familiar with. "Just your mom, huh?"
Sweet Noelle's face shutters, just a little. "I, ah, actually never met him. She's been a strong independent woman forever." She tries to laugh it off, but I know I've accidentally struck a chord. Fuck.
"Oh, shit." I reach out for her, wanting to comfort her somehow. My hand lands on her knee and her eyes drop to the spot immediately, a little gasp escaping her lips. "I'm sorry, Noelle. That was thoughtless of me."
"It's okay." She doesn't pull away from my touch.
We sit like that for a while, her looking at my hand on her thigh, and me looking at her beautiful face. Eventually, she meets my gaze and bites her lower lip, sending a shockwave of desire through me.
"Nathan..." she whispers, and her voice is husky, heavy. It sounds like sex.
I don't say anything, but I squeeze her thigh gently, and she gasps, her eyes drifting down to my mouth.
"Nathan," she says again, and there's an edge of desperation in her voice that makes me ache.
I should pull away.
I should tell her no.
I should put an end to this right now before it can go anywhere else.
But I don't.
"Noelle," I whisper instead, my eyes searching hers.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her plush lips, and the movement makes my breath catch in my chest. She wants this.
Fuck, so do I.
The moment I realize that we're both on the same page, I reach up, cupping her cheek and pulling her closer. When her breath mingles with mine, she whimpers and reaches up to grab the front of my shirt, the paper she was just so concerned about crumpling between us.
Our mouths connect and she moans, her lips soft and pliant, and I groan into the kiss. Fuck, this is a bad idea, but kissing her has ignited a storm of electricity inside of me like nothing else I've ever felt. That possessiveness I felt earlier builds and builds as I swipe my tongue over the seam of her lips, and she opens them, granting me access.
Noelle tastes sweet and minty, her tongue a little shy against my own. I bury my hands in her hair, working out the tie and letting the blond waves fall over her shoulder. Cupping the back of her head, I hold her in place while I explore her mouth fully, slowly, taking my time and memorizing the way her tongue feels against mine.
I feel her relax under me, melting against my chest as I deepen the kiss, her fingers digging into the muscles of my arms. Fuck, her touch is incredible. She's incredible. When we finally pull away, both of us are breathing heavily. Her eyes are glassy, and her face is flushed. I'm sure I don't look any better.
"Noelle," I start, but then my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. With a growl, I take it out, planning to toss the damned thing to the side somewhere so it can go off as much as it wants without bothering us. Except both of us get a glimpse of the contact on the screen—Danny, with the picture I had saved as his contact photo, the two of us fishing a few summers ago before he became an absolute selfish prick.
We both freeze. There's no way in hell I'm going to answer the call. I wouldn't even if she wasn't here because he's probably just asking for money again. But seeing his face and name on my phone screen is a stark reminder of what Noelle and I are doing and who exactly she is—not to me but to my son.
Noelle must see the struggle on my face because her own goes pale, and she stands quickly.
"I should go." She grabs her essay and stuffs it back into her bag.
I stand with her. "Noelle, wait."
"I shouldn't have come." There's a frantic edge to her voice.
"It's fine." I stand with her, shoving the silenced phone back into my pocket. "I'm not going to answer."