Chapter 15

Bex has already dozed off. It only took minutes, every once in a while letting out a soft snore.

I'm glad she's resting. I know I'm the one who almost drowned, but she went through it, too. She cried the whole time the paramedics were checking me out. Her eyes were still red and swollen at the hospital. She was exhausted.

She's always been my protector, getting in trouble multiple times for punching kids on the playground. Our parents labeled her the troublemaker, the hellion, the difficult one from an early age. She allowed me to be the sweet one, the quiet one, the perfect daughter. An angel.

But what my parents never knew—or, rather, never cared to know—is that she only ever punched kids who were bullying me. She might have been a little liberal in her definition of bullying, but she's always looked after me. It's been her and me, together, always.

Especially after the divorce.

She's really the angel here. My guardian angel.

I let her sleep and grab my book to read, sliding in next to her.

A hard knock comes at the door.

Bex groans.

"Livvy, can I come in?" Noah says from the other side.

"No. Go away," Bex yells. "We're sleeping."

"I really need to talk to you, Liv. Like, now."

"It can wait," Bex says, before I'm able to speak up.

There's silence from behind the door, and then he says, "No."

Tension twists between my shoulder blades.

"You can come in," I say.

"Ugh." Bex shoves her pillow over her face as he opens the door.

He clears his throat, filling up the doorway. "I need to talk to you. Alone."

"Fuck off," Bex says, muffled under the pillow.

He glares at her, an unmoving lump in the bed, then looks at me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.

"We'll talk. Soon," he says, jaw clenched, then shuts the door.

He looks at me with the same hard look all throughout dinner, chewing his steak like he has a personal vendetta against this cow.

Everyone else talks around us but he's silent. Eyes on me. Drilling into my skull and making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I look away, try to focus on anyone else, anything else. But I still feel his eyes. And when I glance back, he hasn't moved.

Most everyone seems content to stay up and drink, Wood offers to start another fire on the beach. I excuse myself to bed and quietly go up the stairs.

I hear him behind me, half a flight down.

Heart racing, I grip the handrail. His footsteps on the wood treads echo mine as he follows me up to the third floor in darkness.

I don't dare turn around and look at him until I get to the landing. When I do, he's only a few steps down, in shadow. Why isn't he saying anything.

For some reason I don't want to turn my back to him again, so I step backward, slowly, toward my room as he comes up the stairs. We never break eye contact. As he steps into the hall, I have to tilt my head to look at him. Heart thumping. His tattooed throat bobs.

I back into my darkened room, and he follows me. The light from the moon casts a cold, blue light onto the angles of his face. He looks…different. His eyes have a certain wildness in them that I haven't seen since…since I walked in on him stroking himself. Heat rises in my cheeks.

Noah shuts the door behind us, and now we're alone.

And then he looks at me. Silently we make eye contact, and I have no idea what's going on here. My heart thuds loudly.

He steps toward me, not breaking his stare, not blinking. I stagger back and run into the bed. Caught off guard, I fall backward onto the mattress.

Noah keeps moving forward and sits on the bed next to me. Not a new thing, but the air is entirely different. The mattress sinks under his weight and pulls me to him. My knee presses against his thigh.

"What—"

"I know who you are," he whispers.

I tilt my head. Huh?

"You're nothing like I thought you'd be," he continues. "You're so much more and so much better than I could have even dreamed."

"Noah, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Do you know who I am?" He turns over his wrist and shows me a small tattoo of a devil face with two large horns.

"You're Noah Dixon. What do you mean do I know who you are? Is there something else I'm supposed to know about you?"

"You said you wanted to meet. Here I am, Angel." He tilts his head, the light catching his dark blue eyes.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

My stomach drops. He grins wickedly, the sharp cut of his bicuspid contrasting against his soft lower lip. My heart is racing, having put the pieces together before my brain can comprehend it.

Bex barges in, banging the door against the frame, a fluffy pillow under her arm.

She throws the pillow at Noah with a grunt. "I'm sleeping in here tonight. Go away, Noah, she needs to rest."

"We were talking." He glares at her.

My mind is still spinning, heat erupting from my chest to my ears.

"Time's up." She picks her pillow up from the floor and flings herself on the bed. "You can talk tomorrow." She pulls the covers over her as she rolls to her side, huffing.

Noah looks at me, that smirk still on his lips. "Yes. Yes, we will."

"She's not going."

"She says she feels fine."

Bex glares at Wood over her waffles and eggs.

"Maybe it would be better for her to stay and rest," Wood concedes.

"I really am feeling perfectly fine," I say.

"You're not going on a six-mile hike after almost drowning." Bex takes an aggressively large bite of waffle.

"This is probably the only time I'll ever say I agree with Bex," Spencer says over his earl gray tea.

"An abomination that will certainly never happen again," Bex says. "So, that settles it. You are staying here, and I will stay with you."

"I can stay back, too. You know, just in case you need someone with medical training," Jake chimes in.

"That's so sweet of you." Bex smiles at him.

He smiles back.

"Oh crud. Jake, I know you were really looking forward to the hike, I can stay back in that case. I am a nurse," Macy says.

Spencer puts his hand over hers. "This is your vacation, too. The fresh air and exercise will be good for you."

She nods, blinking up at him. "Yes, you're right."

"Cool. So, it's just me, Macy, and Spencer. Cool, cool," Wood says, chuckling as he shoves an entire strip of bacon in his mouth.

Noah's tall figure darkens the stairwell as he ambles down the steps in black joggers. His dark hair is messy, circles under his eyes. Eyes that find me as soon as he saunters into the kitchen. My pulse quickens.

"Noah! You're coming on the hike today, right?"

Noah chuckles while filling a mug with coffee. "No."

Wood's shoulders droop.

"This is ridiculous. I don't want anyone missing out on a good time because of me." I look at Bex, trying not to make eye contact with Noah again. "I will go lie down. I'll stay in bed the rest of the day and just rest and read my book. I promise. No one needs to stay and look after me."

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"Yes!"

"Okay." She looks at Jake and then Wood. "Looks like we're coming after all."

"Oh good!" Macy bounces in her seat.

"Thank fuck," Wood mutters under his breath.

Noah sits in the open seat directly across from me, his dark gaze is thick on my skin, heavy, impossible to ignore.

I pause, about to take a bite of waffle, fork midair. A heavy bead of syrup drips from my bite, slow and stringy down to my plate.

He bites his lip. "I'd like some of your syrup."

I don't move. I don't blink. I'm not certain I'm breathing. Is he brazenly flirting with me at the breakfast table in front of everyone?

"Livvy," he says.

My fork goes clattering to my plate. Oh, fuck. "Huh?"

"Will you pass me the syrup? Please." He gestures to the bottle of syrup directly next to me, a dark chuckle in his voice.

Right, right. I pass him the syrup and he leans over to take the bottle from my hands, his fingers grazing over mine as he takes it, lingering there for a second. Skin on skin.

He flashes me the little devil tattoo on his wrist.

It's him. It really is him. I laid awake for hours last night trying to convince myself that it wasn't true, that I'd misread what he had said. He isn't 2Horned and he doesn't know about my extra-curricular activities as Angel. He doesn"t know.

Everything I know about 2Horned and Noah runs through my mind like a slideshow.

Noah is busy running his shop. He's successful. But he doesn't go out. No women in his life that I know of. He doesn't sleep well. He never talks about his family, except for Wood.

2Horned is lonely, doesn't do much other than work. He's suffered from depression on and off and has had insomnia since he lost his family—his father, mother, and brother all died in a car accident several years ago.

Fuck.

What if it is true? What if it's him? The man I've crushed on, lusted over, dreamt of, for the last eight years, is the man I've been sexting with for the last eight months?

The things we've talked about doing with each other—doing to each other. Blood throbs in my veins, heating my cheeks and warming me all over.

He looks up at me from under his thick lashes. He knows. He knows what I'm thinking. He can read my mind and every naughty thought that's running through it about him, about us.

"We better get going before it gets too hot." Wood stands, starting to clear the table. "Are you sure you won't join us?" He's looking at Noah, but Noah doesn't take his eyes off me.

Noah grins slowly. "Not a chance."

I snuck away upstairs while everyone was running around getting their hiking boots (Jake) and sunscreen (Macy) and grabbing snacks (Wood) and filling water bottles (Spencer) and flasks (Bex).

They all left toward the trailhead half an hour ago in Wood's SUV, and I've been lying on my bed pretending to read ever since, heart pounding, sweating. The look in Noah's deep blue eyes consuming every thought.

"Can I come in?" he says from the hall. No knock.

I take a deep breath. "Yes." My voice sounds weird. Why does my voice sound weird?

I sit up as he walks in. It feels like I'm watching him in slow motion, or from outside of my body. It doesn"t seem real. The way he's looking at me, like I'm prey. Like he's about ready to pounce. To devour me.

He gently takes the book I forgot I'm holding out of my hand and sets it on the bedside table and then sits next to me.

"Livvy."

"Noah."

There's silence. Nothing but the invisible buzzing electricity in the air between us.

"It's you," I say.

He nods.

I take his face in my hands, looking back and forth between his eyes. Knowing. I know him. I know this man. And he knows more about me than probably anyone else.

He closes his eyes, letting out an exhale and lets me hold the weight of his head before turning and nuzzling into my hand, kissing my palm with the softest touch.

He looks back up at me and it's like all the sorrow in his eyes, I finally understand.

"I know," I say. "I know."

He smiles just before his expression breaks and then his hands are cupping my face, too.

"It's a relief that you know. That you know everything. I'm so glad it's you, Livvy."

"You are?" I think I already know, but I need to ask anyway. "And the girl you met you wanted to try and start something with?"

He moves in, dropping his hands to press into the mattress on either side of my hips. "I was talking about you, Liv."

"Oh."

Heat radiates from his skin. His scent fills my lungs. He's so close, it'd only take a second to close the gap between us. Feel his lips on mine.

His fingertips graze up the side of my wrist.

"Do you want this?" he whispers.

I want to say yes, but I can't speak. I'm frozen.

He runs one knuckle along my jaw, raising goosebumps on my neck that tingle down my side.

"What am I going to do with you…my angel?"

I let out a shaky breath. "I'm not Angel."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, she's sexy and confident and in control. I'm none of those things?—"

He scoffs. "Of course you are?—"

"No. I misled you. I deceived you."

"What are you talking about?—"

"I'm a virgin," I blurt.

He pulls back and sits, expression unreadable.

I straighten. "I'm sorry. I'm a fraud."

"Liv," he says, his voice low and stern. "You are not a fraud. You are smart and funny and gorgeous. And when you dropped your robe to pose nude for me, you were the epitome of sexy and confident."

"I was terrified."

He slides nearer to me on the bed. "Fooled me."

"I haven't done any of the things we talked about."

"I don't care." He leans in closer.

"You don't?"

He shakes his head. "Liv, do you want to do all those things we talked about? In our scenarios?"

"Yes," I exhale.

"With me?" His hand finds mine, our fingers interlocking over the blankets. "Because I want to do them. With you."

I nod. "Please." But the word comes out on a quivering breath.

He smiles as his fingers tighten around mine. "We'll go slow," he whispers.

My throat tightens. "Slow is good."

He grins. Then his gaze drops to my mouth. "Do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you?"

"No." My chest heaves with quickening breaths as he leans in.

"Too fucking long."

Noah comes closer, the tip of his nose touching mine. His thumb on my cheek brushes the corner of my mouth.

His pupils are blown out, his eyes look almost black. My heart is racing. His lips are so close, the heat from his breath makes me shiver.

"I'm going to kiss you," he says.

He is?

The sharp intake of air through my lips is audible.

He's staring at my mouth, one of his hands slides around into my hair, but he doesn't move in or pull me closer. It's like he's waiting for something.

I breathe out the word, "Yes," so soft I'm not sure if it wasn't just in my head.

But he must have heard because he doesn't hesitate another second. He makes eye contact, his stare hot, needy, and pulls the back of my neck toward him at the same time he tilts his head, eyelids heavy, and lowers his mouth to mine.

His lips are soft, gentle. I don't want him soft. I need him as greedy for me as I am for him, as I've been for years.

I twist my hands into his shirt, urging him further.

I am consumed by him. There is nothing but him and me.

His hand at my lower back pulls me in closer, his other hand in my hair tightens around the back of my neck.

I whimper as I part my lips.

His tongue touches mine, sweet with a hint of maple syrup.

He lets out a sigh and then he's holding my head, hard-pressed to him as he goes deeper. Heavy breathing. Heart pounding. Devouring me and all my heady moans. Tongues slick. A gasp for air. Arms around me tighter. Closer. Not close enough.

I lean back and he follows me down easily, laying me down on the pillow. Pressing his weight on top of me. Kissing. Panting. I dig my fingers into his back as he sucks my lip between his teeth.

I can barely breathe. I don't want to breathe if it means we stop kissing.

He presses me harder into the mattress as he trails his fingers up the side of my ribs. His hand is warm and soft as it moves up, grazing the side of my breast.

I hum into his mouth and arch against him. He slows the kiss, his lips soft yet demanding. He sweeps his tongue against mine without hesitation, but yields to my movements, letting me set the pace. The heat of his hand cradles my breast, and he applies gentle pressure.

More. I want more. More of this. More of him. More of everything I've never had before.

He rubs the pad of his thumb over my nipple, and it hardens under his touch. He groans, and the sound turns me liquid, warm and melting under him into a puddle of carnal need and desire.

Noah slides his hand down, my body thrumming with each stroke. Down to the hem of my shirt where he plays his fingertips over the bare skin there, just above the waistband of my shorts. It lights me up.

Then, with the lowest rumble from his chest and firm hand, he grips my hip and grinds against me. His erection is hard, the length of it rubbing against the inside of my thigh.

I whimper at the sensation, heat flooding between my legs, the need—the ache—growing by the second.

He breaks the kiss, our noses still touching, our hard, quick breaths filling the inch of space between us. "Is this too much?"

"No," I say, but it comes out too high pitched and more like a question.

Noah kisses my nose, then pulls back a little, his eyes never leaving mine as he sweeps a strand of hair off my face, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Sorry, I said we'd go slow and I'm already all over you."

"It's okay. I want it." I tug on his shirt, urging him back down to me.

"Yeah?" He tilts his head, pupils dilating as he comes closer. "What do you want?"

"I—" I swallow, my heart pounding harder than can surely be healthy. I don't know.

We lie in silence for a minute, chest against chest, his breath warm against my lips as he plays with my hair.

"I don't know what I want. But I know I want it with you," I finally whisper.

"Good," he says low. He licks his lips as he shifts on top of me. He's still hard against my lower abdomen. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay."

"All those times you told me you came when we were chatting, did you actually get yourself off?"

I'm quiet for a heartbeat. Two. Three beats.

"Once," I say, heat surging in my chest.

One side of his mouth turns up. "When?"

I swallow. "The last time."

He looks off to the left then back to me, his expression turning slightly sinister. "After you walked in on me…and saw my?—"

"Yes." I squirm under him, the cock in question getting impossibly harder, growing bigger across my hip as I wiggle.

He growls as his devilish grin grows. "Show me."

"Huh?"

"Show me how you touched yourself. Show me how you like it."

"You want to watch?"

"Yes."

Oh.

"Tell me"—his voice is like velvet—"were you dressed when you got yourself off?"

I shake my head. "I was naked."

He smiles.

"In your bed," I add.

His eyes roll back as he presses his lips between his teeth. "Can I see?" He sits back on his heels, hot, dark gaze on me.

I sit up. It's like slow motion. I undress silently as he watches me. I pull my tank top off, my bare breasts jiggling slightly as I toss it aside.

After hooking my thumbs into the band of my shorts, I lift my hips then slide them down my thighs and off. I'm left sitting here in my peach cotton panties.

Noah looks up and down my body. My nipples tighten as his gaze passes over them.

I've always thought my breasts were a bit small, not even a handful, but they're perky and firm and oh god, he's licking his lips.

I hold my breath to keep him from noticing how shallow my breathing has become.

"You're fucking perfect," he whispers. "So beautiful."

I let out a breath and try to smile through quivering lips.

"Show me what you do next," he says.

I spread my legs apart.

"Good girl," he rasps. Warmth ripples down my spine and settles in my core, tinged with nerves and excitement.

His eyes follow my hand as I slide it down my stomach and over my panties. Down to where I'm heated and achy, to where the cotton is already damp. I rub my fingers over the fabric, the light pressure against the pulsing between my legs is barely enough to soothe the ache. The need. The hollow, empty feeling.

He presses his palm to his groin, his erection straining under his pants.

I curl two fingers along the side of my panties and move them over, exposing my most sensitive, pink skin to Noah's eyes.

"Fuck," he growls.

I stroke my fingers between my folds where it's hot, my fingertips already wet and slippery. Teasing them up slowly until they brush the underside of my throbbing clit.

A moan escapes my lips, unbidden.

"Talk to me. Tell me what you're doing and how it feels," Noah says.

My cheeks burn.

He looks up from where my hand is pressed between my legs to my face. "I know you can do it. I know how naughty you are, my angel."

I nod. Heart racing, I push my panties down my hips.

"May I?" His eyes are burning.

"Yes," I breathe.

He inches closer, fingertips barely brushing my thighs as he loops them into my underwear and pulls them down my legs.

I lean back against the pillow and resume stroking circles around my clit.

"Does it feel good?" he asks.

"Yes. It feels so good. I'm so wet, Noah."

"I can see how wet that pretty little pussy is for me."

My breath hitches. "Do you like it?"

He nods. "I like it. I like you—spread out, wet, and eager for me."

Oh. Oh fuck. I drag my soaked fingers down and back up through my pussy. Slow strokes then faster circles over my swollen clit.

"Fuck. My cock is so hard for you. Can I take it out?"

"Yes. Please." My words are stilted.

He groans and I pant. In a lust-filled haze, I feel bold.

"Stroke it for me," I say. "I want to see you, too. I want to know it's because of me."

"It's always because of you." He reaches over the back of his head and pulls his shirt off in one fluid motion. He shoves his pants and boxers down, his cock springing forward, smooth and thick.

Taking it in his hand, he squeezes it at the base then glides his hand up the shaft.

I watch him stroke himself, mesmerized as I continue to coax my own pleasure.

The morning sunlight has broken through the clouds, bathing the room in white light and warming my skin. Sweat beads between my breasts.

Soft moaning fills the room and I realize it's me.

Noah is still watching me, thick-thighed, the muscles in his forearms flexing, abs tensing as he strokes his cock with one hand and pulls his balls with the other.

Pressure builds low in my stomach. My moaning has turned desperate, the tension coiling just under the surface, the need for release intensifying.

"I'm so close. Almost there."

"Can I—can I finish you off." His voice is hoarse, breathing heavy.

I nod.

He gently encircles my wrist and lifts it away, but then he brings my hand to his lips. He kisses my fingertips then sucks the two fingers I've been using into his mouth. And now he knows how I taste. He licks them clean, not breaking eye contact.

"Fuck," I breathe.

"You taste so good. I knew you would."

He smirks and dips down, lips brushing my thighs just long enough to make my skin prickle and then his mouth is on me. Wet and warm, his tongue slipping between my folds, making me gasp.

He licks my clit and I cry out, feral. His tattooed fingers dig into my thighs. The little slurping and swallowing noises he's making fill my head as my clit pulsates under his tongue.

Ecstasy vibrates under my skin, coming in waves and echoing out to my extremities. I'm moaning and sighing and cussing under my breath.

I can't help but roll my eyes back with each current of pleasure. But I keep looking back, because watching him is hotter than I could have imagined. His beautiful face between my legs, the broad side of his tongue as he licks me, his lips shiny as he kisses me there. My pussy lips spread and dark pink as he sucks on my pulsing clit.

"Oh fuck."

He sucks harder.

One of his hands leaves my thigh and I glance down to see it gripped around his cock, jacking himself off as he goes down on me. The sight of the red, stretched head of his cock slipping in and out from his fist, his neck flexing, the humming in his throat from his own pleasure as he's coaxing mine to the surface—it undoes me.

My climax breaks without warning and I cry out, louder than I expect. It crashes through my body hard and hot, intense, pure bliss, then fizzles out slow, staying shimmery along the edges.

Still shaky, my lips tingling, I open my eyes and he's there, erection jutting out in front of his stomach, thick, skin pulled taut, fisting himself faster, grunting, gasping. His whole body locks up as he shudders, then groans, emptying himself into his discarded boxers.