Enemies Abroad(64)

I whip my blanket off and open my door to find Noah walking out of his room too. He’s changed into shorts but he’s not wearing a shirt anymore. He’s had a change of heart about going to his room; I see it all over his face.

“On second thought—”

“Actually—”

We speak at the same time, assuring each other that this is a good idea. We’ll have a friendly sleepover in my room, but we’ll be very responsible and chaste. Not even one kiss. We shake on it.

I take his hand and tug him into my room, and we fall onto my bed together.

To our credit, it’s platonic at first. We’re lying down facing each other. My eyes rove over every inch of him. His hands stay planted firmly at my waist, no wandering.

“We’re supposed to be sleeping,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

I do. For exactly half a second, and then I squint one eye open to see he’s doing the same.

Well, well, well…looks like neither one of us is to be trusted.

We cut the crap and open our eyes.

I scoot a little closer. He tilts his head down.

“We should really sleep,” I tell him, arching my head until our lips are almost aligned.

“Shhh. I am asleep,” he says, tugging me toward him until our bodies are flush.

It’d be impossible to say who initiated the kiss.

We meet exactly in the middle.

Two lovers who can’t be held off a moment longer.

His fingers tangle in my hair. My hand flattens against his chest. What starts out as innocent fun turns wicked almost immediately. The kiss is scorching and reminiscent of the one we shared at the club last week. All that pent-up longing…it has to come out somehow, and I see that now. I feel the way Noah wants me and it emboldens me. I start to press up onto my elbow so I can crawl on top of him and Noah breaks the kiss, breathing hard, dragging a hand down his face.

“We should stop. I should stop.”

He’s worried about taking advantage of me.

Hilarious! He should be worried for his own safety. I’m about to take advantage of him, poor guy.

“Stop? No no. We can’t.” I crawl on top of him and sit up. “I want this. I want this so badly. I’ll write it on that contract for you if you need me to. The defendant Audrey Cohen is of sound mind and will testify that she’s absolutely 100% okay with Noah putting his hands on or around her breastal region and in her panties too. Something like that. I’ll sign it and everything.”

“Breastal,” he repeats, tickled.

I point back and forth to my breasts. “Exhibit A.”

Even in moments like this, we’re unable to be completely serious. We can’t just look at each other and say the god’s honest truth: Noah, if you don’t kiss me and touch me and undress me out of these pajamas, I feel like I might spontaneously combust. I want you—god, can’t you see that? Haven’t you always seen that?

He smiles like a confident superhero who’s just saved a whole city from destruction and mayhem.

“Thank you.”

Oops. That was supposed to be internal monologue.

He grabs my waist, rocking me backward just a hair, enough for me to feel how much he wants this too.

“We might regret this in the morning.”

It’s his last-ditch effort to talk some sense into us, but I can already tell he’s losing steam with his argument. His eyes are eating up every inch of my body. He’s toying with my shirt, lifting it up so his hand can slip underneath it, grazing the bottom of my ribs. He keeps bucking and adjusting his hips beneath me like he’s desperate for me to move and grind on him.

“Well why don’t we just let that be a problem for Morning Audrey and Morning Noah?” I say, walking my fingertips down the center of his chest. My touch is barely there, teasing and playful before I start to slide it temptingly slowly down to his stomach and—whoops, naughty me, I don’t stop there. I keep going lower. I make it to the dark trail of hair beneath his navel, and that’s when Noah’s good intentions go up in smoke.





Chapter Twenty-One





Noah sits up and whips my pajama shirt right up and over my head with smooth dexterity that makes me swoon. It’s like he’s been practicing the move for years. Then he loops his arm behind my shoulders and tugs me back down to the bed with him. His hand cups my head through my hair. He’s kissing me with a ferocity that feels like we’re trying to start something—a relationship, a fire, who knows. We’re skin on skin and it’s sensory overload. I shiver with want and he kisses his way down my neck to my collarbone. It feels so wonderful to have his mouth there, but it’s even more wonderful when he keeps going lower, giving the same amount of care and attention to every part of me. His hands touch me everywhere, but then mine are prone to wander too. It’s like we’re hopped up on Red Bull Xtreme, too excited to slow down, too enthralled with each other’s bodies to properly take our time exploring one thing before we’re distracted by something else.

When his hands cup my breasts, a deep, satisfied moan escapes his lips. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. If I had even one last vestige of worry about Noah’s motive for pursuing me, that moan obliterates it. He wants me in the purest, most basic sense. There’re no hidden agendas, no dastardly plots.