Chapter 10 Cole

Worse things have happened in my life.

For some reason, I can't think of any.

I sit in my car halfway down the street for an hour as I stare at the front of the restaurant waiting for everyone to leave. Namely: Noah. The minutes crawl by with excruciating indifference to my pain.

Why does the world fall apart every time we kiss?

Are these signs? Do I even believe in signs? Should I start?

Honestly, I don't think I'd care if there were a dozen signs that I shouldn't keep going after Noah. How can I possibly give up now after he starts making moves on me? I don't even care that it went all wrong and ended with me on the street in front of a screaming car. I'll set off a hundred alarms and drop on the hard pavement a hundred more times if it means getting to kiss Noah again.

I should probably be mortified, but my head is spinning with so much happiness right now. I can't stop smiling, squeezing the steering wheel in front of me, and giggling.

I can still feel the way his fingers clung to my body.

The urgent force with which he pressed his soft, puckered lips against mine.

How his breath crashed joyfully on my cheek as we kissed.

How it felt like nothing else existed in the world but us.

Or at least until I lost my balance, fell against a car, and made a whole lot of things exist at once.

That kiss shouldn't count as our first. Neither should the one I stole on the sidewalk near my house yesterday. We need a real first kiss. One that isn't interrupted. One that goes on as long as we both want it to. One that isn't spent in fear of who's watching or who knows.

A kiss we both deserve.

I'm nearly asleep at the wheel by the time people start to leave the restaurant. I stir, fully alert now, and watch from my car. They all seem to exit at once, everyone from the photo shoot—including Noah. I wait with tortured patience as Nadine and the others make their very slow and wordy goodbyes. Didn't they all talk enough inside? What more is there to possibly say? I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as they continue their conversations in front of the restaurant, unaware of anything at all, oblivious to the world around them, happy and relaxed and clueless.

Except for Noah.

He stands among their circle, but he keeps glancing away, as if similarly ready for the ordeal to come to an official end. He peers down the street one way, then the other, hugging himself while gnawing on the inside of his cheek, appearing apprehensive.

Is Noah looking for me? Would it be crazy to think I'm tangled in his every thought as well?

Sweet merciful fortune comes my way as the crowd begins to disperse. Nadine and Dean and two others head off one way, while several of the rest take off in the other. Mindy slips blithely into her car, unaware of the fact that two very thirsty guys were on the hood just an hour ago, then drives away.

Finally, it's just Noah left. He lingers uncertainly, still glancing around. After a minute, he appears to make a choice and heads off.

In the wrong direction.

I perk up in my seat. I had assumed he would have walked in this direction, which is where he'd go to head home. Even after I lose sight of him, I sit for a moment and wait, wondering if he might circle back around. Is he looking for me?

Or did I just miss my chance?

I am clearly losing my mind here. I waited a full hour just for a slim chance of getting to see him again, and now he vanishes. We don't even have to pick up where we left off. I'd be content just to chat for a little bit. Laugh about our misfortune. Say goodnight.

We don't have to kiss again.

Even if every cell in my body is yearning for it.

Now that I've opened Pandora's Box, everything's spilled out, and no force on the planet can stuff it back in. Maybe it's wise that I stay here before I go and thoughtlessly open any more boxes.

Even if I'm dying to know what's on his mind.

Even if I'm desperate to kiss him again.

Even if—

I open my eyes, sensing something, and turn.

Noah is standing outside my window, staring blankly through the glass at me, one eyebrow lifted, face scrunched up.

But our eye contact seems to spook him, and he steps back.

I'm out of the car the next moment. "Noah?"

"I thought you left," he says, surprised.

I leave the side of my car without shutting the door. "Nope. I waited. Like a creep sitting in a car in the dark. For an hour."

Noah frowns. "Sorry. They kept talking. Apparently they want to run the story tomorrow already. To get the ball rolling."

"Oh. The one about the festival? Or about the pageant?"

"Both. They're lumping them together. The story I already wrote about the festival is now how they're introducing you as one of the bachelors." He looks at me. "You're the hero bachelor."

"Oh. That's … so soon."

Suddenly his cute eyebrows pop over the rims of his glasses as a thought strikes him. "Are you okay? After you fell off the car? I was so worried. I thought you might've fallen on your bad arm."

I did—and it hurt like hell. But the last thing I want him to feel is guilt, so I shake my head. "Lucky fall. Fell on my good side."

He seems to sigh with relief. Then he frowns again. "But now you've fallen on both your arms, and—"

"Noah," I say, cutting him off. "I was hoping we could …"

Then I grow quiet.

What was I intending to say, exactly?

That I was hoping we could pick up where we left off? That I was hoping to jump his bones? That I want him to crawl on top of me like he did an hour ago? That I want to softly cradle his face in my hands like I'd just found long-lost treasure?

Noah lifts his eyebrows again. "Yes …?" he murmurs, a note of hope in his soft voice.

That's when "confident me" loses all confidence. And instead of asking what I really should ask, I blurt: "Can I drive you home?"

He appears confused. "But I … I live close."

What am I doing? "It's dark."

He glances over his shoulder, as if to check. "It is," he agrees. I watch him as he continues to reason it out. "I … heard about a … a raccoon someone saw around here. There's a chance it could have rabies. Judging from how it was described to be acting. Maybe not a … not a very good idea to be walking home. Now. In the dark."

I give the side of my car a proud pat. "Rabid-raccoon-proof."

Noah gazes at my car and bites his lip, appearing troubled.

I wonder if he's reliving it all inside his mind. Our unintended wrestling maneuver on the hood of Mindy's car. The innocent kiss that precipitated it. The photo he snuck of me when he first came out of the restaurant.

Suddenly his eyes snap to mine. "Okay. I'll take the ride."

I smile with relief.

A minute later, we're in my car slowly driving down the road. I didn't turn on the radio. Unless I'm heading out to my cousins', I never do. So the car is silent as we make our way to his home.

We only have a handful of minutes together.

I need to make every second count.

"A left up here," he says.

I can only drive so slowly before it's obvious I'm milking time. "So, Noah …"

"After you take the left, I'm the second house on the corner."

I smile at the road. "I know where you live."

"You do? Oh. Right. Because we—"

"—both used to live on this street," I finish for him.

I'm already at the stop sign. After taking the left, we park by the curb in front of his house. Then we sit there and say nothing.

He doesn't open the door. He doesn't get out.

He's just sitting there.

Like I'm sitting here.

Breathing.

Not speaking.

What are we waiting for?

Finally, I muster up the courage. "Noah …"

The second his name flies out of my mouth, he leans over the center console and kisses my cheek.

I turn, surprised.

Noah remains there, hovering near my face, his eyes shining with intention and gleaming in the light shining in from a nearby streetlamp. His lips are still half-puckered.

And his eyes reflect fear.

I stare back at him. "Did you just kiss my—?"

"I was going for your mouth and missed," he explains.

"Oh."

Then he goes for my lips.

And this time, he doesn't miss.

Every nerve ending in my body comes to life as I take hold of his face, locking our mouths together. He quickly grapples for my body, too, as if my touch inspires his. Neither of us can seem to get in the right position to kiss comfortably, everything in the way—the center console, the seats themselves, the steering wheel.

My elbow hits the horn.

Both of us jump, experience half a second of confusion, then dive right back into each other's faces.

Noah apparently decides he isn't getting enough of me, so he climbs over the center console without warning and straddles my lap with surprising agility. That results in his butt hitting the horn again, but neither of us react to it the second time, our lips staying connected, our hands on each other.

He reaches down and cranks my seat back, which sends me flying backwards unexpectedly, rendering me almost horizontal. He crawls over my body, hands pressed to my chest, and digs his mouth into mine with such hunger, I feel it down to my stomach.

I would never have predicted such a beast lived inside Noah.

Did I unleash this? Or did the beast always exist?

He's taken the lead with no coaxing or pushing. Not even the tiniest word of encouragement.

Then he pulls away and whispers, "Is this alright?"

I stare up at his face. When did his glasses come off? "Are you kidding me?" I breathe back.

"Is that a yes?" he asks.

"Yes. It's a resounding yes."

"Good." When he crashes back down upon my mouth, the kiss intensifies. He grinds his body into mine, flattening me to the seat.

Then I make the discovery that he's hard.

Just as hard as I am.

His crotch presses against mine with force, revealing an ache inside I didn't realize was there, a deep and desperate throbbing that needs urgent relief.

I was not aware of exactly how pent-up I am.

Like, Yellowstone-pent-up. Super volcano that has been ready and overdue to blow for centuries.

I have wanted this so badly, it's incalculable.

Noah stops kissing me, pulls his face away just an inch, eyes closed, then gently drags his tongue over my parted lips. He smiles to himself as I watch him, in awe. Then he resumes kissing me, but more tenderly. His hands drag up my body and take hold of my face before, with surprising naturalness, he slides his soft tongue inside my mouth. I gasp against his gift, inviting my tongue to meet his. Our kiss enters a whole new dimension of exploration as our tongues become intimately acquainted.

The kissing inspires him to grind his crotch into mine even harder. I feel his cock flex within his pants, a notification to tell me how much he's into this. Each time his cock flexes, I can feel it perfectly against mine. I suppress a groan as my hands take hold of his hips, then gently thrust against him in response.

I don't know if this is giving either of us any of the relief we're clearly craving, or if it's making it all worse, driving us into a state of insanity, eager to be freed somehow from our insatiable desire for one another.

It is becoming increasingly evident how very much our pants are in the way of something we both clearly want.

He pulls away again. "Grab my ass."

I stare at him in disbelief. "Who are you?"

His fingers slide into my hair and curl into fists, grabbing hold of me with such strength, it's my body's instinct to moan.

I move my hands from his hips to his ass, which I'm surprised to report is firmer and more bountiful than I previously thought. Is that the right word? "Bountiful"? Can a perfectly-proportioned plump butt be dignified with the word "bountiful"?

But it isn't just the size or exquisite hand-filling shape of his tender cheeks that has me losing my mind.

It's that when I squeeze, his cheeks flex back.

Then he grinds deeper against my crotch.

How is anyone supposed to maintain sanity with this amount of tension building up on this overcrowded driver's seat?

"You don't have to be so gentle with me," breathes Noah into my ear.

He says this while I have my hands on his ass, squeezing like I expect to wring milk out of it. He says this while we grind our crotches together like we're mining for diamonds.

"Noah …" I breathe.

Then his fingers curl even tighter in my hair, surprising me, as he dives back into my mouth. He humps me even harder now, working me like a piece of meat he's tenderizing by beating it to its second death on a kitchen counter.

My grunts are turning vocal without my permission.

"N … N … Noah …"

He presses his next kiss against my cheek, then my jaw, then goes for my ear, where he takes a sudden nip. Tingles of ecstasy rocket down my neck from the feel of his teeth on my earlobe. I'm out of control with my moans as he drags his lips down the side of my neck, right where it's tender, right where I have to fight an instinct to squirm against him. My whole entire body is sensitive. Charged. Activated. Moving.

Then something hits the stick shift. There's no telling if it's his arm or mine, but quite suddenly we're not parked.

A foot hits the gas—his foot or mine?

And now it's the car that's charged, activated, and moving, as it roars, lurches forward, and slams into something before coming to a dead stop.

The pair of us look forward in alarm.

Noah's mailbox teeters in front of us, as if waving hi.

Then it creaks.

And falls over with a sad little thump on the grass.

Neither of us move. Noah, with his body twisted around to get a look, holds his breath. Then he twists back around to look at me, his eyes wide and blinking frantically.

I push on the brakes. He climbs off of my lap with caution, then drops onto the passenger seat where he reclaims his glasses with two trembling hands. I reach to the side for the knob of the seat, crank it upright again, then carefully reverse my car off of the front of Noah's lawn and put it into park. Again.

Without saying a word, we both get out to survey the damage.

Noah's mailbox, bent at the base and lying flat on the ground.

My car, dented at the front.

Noah appears at my side, pushes at the bridge of his glasses, and in the tiniest of voices, says, "Oops."

The next minute, we're through the front door of his house, and his back is pressed to the wall of the dark entryway as we pick up right where we left off. My lips are all over his, and our breaths crash like thunder against our faces.

He takes hold of my shirt, fingers curling, and then I'm a doll dragged through the dark as we make out. My hip bumps against a piece of furniture—table, couch, armchair, I have no idea. His back hits a door before it shoves open, and the two of us spill inside.

My back falls against a bed, springy and soft. He straddles me again, but this time without the confines of a car around us.

It's much more liberating.

His mouth descends onto mine as he grapples with my shirt. Our lips separate for only a second as the shirt is peeled over my head and pitched aside like trash.

I sit up and go for his shirt just as quickly. The moment his shirt is off, I slide my hands around his smooth back, gripping him tightly, and situating his ass firmly on my lap.

The moment his ass presses onto me, I feel him subtly grind.

That inspires my hands to slide down his smooth back and cup as much of his ass as I can fill them with—then plunge my face into his bare chest.

His skin is as soft as silk slipping over my kissing lips. He lets out gasps of surprise from above as I drag my mouth over his sensitive skin, exploring Noah for the first time in my life, if not counting the copious times in my dreams.

And when my lips touch his nipple, I've finally struck gold.

I let out my tongue to take a taste, then revel in the pleasure of his body tensing up and his fingers clinging to me tighter.

His nipple responds quickly, too, hardening against the caress of my tongue. I kiss it again and again, swirling the pebbled nipple with the tip of my tongue as I attempt to drive him crazy. From the way his muscles keep clenching, I know I'm succeeding.

So I go for the other nipple to see if it's as sensitive.

I'm pleased to report it is.

Noah suddenly wraps my whole head in his arms, hugging me against his chest in either an effort to encourage me to suck on his nipples harder, or else to suffocate me. Both options make me that much hungrier to please him.

Then his hips thrust against me.

His stiff cock through his pants grinds against my abs.

I only need to be told once. I bring one of my hands between us and take hold of the tent in his pants like it was mine all along, massaging it firmly with my fingers. Noah reacts with a deep and happy moan, then starts to thrust against me harder. I give him a squeeze while my mouth continues to work his nipples, back and forth, never allowing them rest.

Suddenly he pushes me onto my back, surprising me. He takes hold of my pants, opens them right up, and tugs them right down, revealing that I have a similar situation: a hard and throbbing one.

He appears to take a second to appreciate the size of my hard and throbbing situation.

I'd be lying if I said that doesn't make me even harder.

Watching him stare.

His eyes growing.

I mean, he was just sitting on it a moment ago. Is he really that surprised?

Just when I'm about to make a remark, he climbs on top of me again, straddling my thighs, and takes hold of my dick through my underwear. He isn't gentle. The way he claims every inch of me with his hand is so unexpectedly possessive, I'm the one whose eyes are growing now. He massages it, squeezing it so hard, it can't help but flex back at him.

The tension down there is building up fast.

I sit up slightly, reach forward, and slide my hand down his pants to take hold of his cock. The second my fingers wrap around him, Noah lets out a sigh that quickly turns into a moan as my hand starts to move.

His eyes are so expressive. The way they show me how deeply he's wanted this. I wonder if he has even had a single chance his whole life to be this free before. To do what he wants. To take what he wants. Feel everything. Be as open with another person as he would be with himself in the privacy of this very bedroom.

Apparently my daringness inspires him, because suddenly he peels down my underwear and grabs hold of my cock in the flesh—and then he starts to jerk it.

His hand provides the perfect amount of softness and friction as he strokes up and down my length. I keep doing the same, my hand marrying perfectly to his cock as I jerk him off. Our eyes are locked on one another. Our breaths rush in and crash out of our mouths. I can only imagine our hearts race together, too.

And our pace increases as we get close.

If my instinct's right, he's just as close as I am.

I sit up suddenly, bringing our faces closer, as we continue to jerk each other off. I give him a fevered kiss, which he quickly returns, telling me he's as hungry for it as I am. I can hear the way his lips quiver through his jagged breaths. He hisses with his teeth as he grows closer and closer, his jerking becoming more erratic.

There's no one in the world I'd rather rush to the edge with than him.

There's nothing here to stop us.

No car alarms. No mailboxes. No random acts of God or big spontaneous combustions of any kind.

It's just me.

And Noah.

And the tension that's built between us for far too long.

"I'm close," he whispers.

Even his whisper is candy to my ears.

"Me, too," I whisper back.

He lets out a little grunt, indicating he's there, which is all the push I need to fly over the edge myself. Both our free hands reach to cling to one another at once, sensing the moment. We both let out deep moans of relief as we unload all of the pent-up tension in our bodies. With each wave that empties from him, he lets out an adorably fitting groan, clinging to me tighter, his fingers nearly clawing into my back. I grit my teeth as the pleasurable anguish of release sends chills of delight throughout my whole body.

Then we remain right there with each other, hanging onto the moment, clinging to one another's bodies as the rush slowly ebbs, leaving us in our afterglows. Our foreheads touch as our breaths fill the space between us, the only sounds in the room.

"That … was amazing," he finally says with a sigh.

I smile. "Amazing?" I tease. "You're the writer, and the only word you can think of is ‘amazing' …?"

"Mind-blowing. Explosive. Eruptive. Stupendous."

I hold back a laugh. "‘Stupendous' …?"

He lifts his head slightly. Our faces are so close. "Then what would you call it?"

I tilt my head and put a tender kiss on his lips. I feel his body melt against mine. "Fucking magical," I answer.

He kisses me back, then leans toward me. "I don't believe we are allowed to use curse words like that in our articles."

"This is a story you won't have to write about. It lives in us … just us, right here with us."

"And our underwear," he mutters.

I grimace, then chuckle. "I'll wash mine when I get home."

Noah pulls away and adjusts his glasses just enough to get a look at the time. "Oh. Home. Right. I … I guess you probably want to head out soon." He gazes back at me. "I … I kinda wish …"

"Yeah?"

He sucks in his bottom lip. "I wish this could last all night."

My heart flutters up into my throat. "Really?"

And it's right then that we hear a noise coming from down the hall. A rattle of something metallic. Footsteps. A voice.

Noah's eyes go wide with panic. "That's my mom," he hisses in alarm. "What's she doing up??"

At once, we become a hurricane of clothing and tissues as we clean each other up—in the dark—and become as presentable as is humanly possible within a handful of seconds.

Then there's a sound at the door. "Sweetie? Noah?"

Noah clicks on his desk lamp—which fucking blinds me, since my eyes were completely attuned to the dark. "Yes, Mom?" he asks as I continue to blink wildly and rub my eyes.

The door opens and his mother's face appears. "When'd you get home? I didn't hear—" Then her eyes fall upon me. She lets out a gasp and tugs her robe closed even tighter to better preserve her modesty. "Cole …? Cole Harding? In our house? My goodness!"

"H-Hi, Mrs. Reed," I quickly greet her with a wry smile. "I apologize for startling you and appearing here unannounced. You don't have to worry. I … I was just leaving."

Her eyes flick back and forth between us. Then she perks her head up and her whole tone changes. "Well, that's nonsense! Why don't you stay the night, sweetie?"