Enemies Abroad(65)

I slip my hand past the waistband of his shorts, and it’s like I’m revving the engine. From there, we’re in a mad dash to have each other. How quickly can we finish ripping each other’s clothes off? Who cares about buttons and seams, just tear through it. Bite it with your teeth. Stretch the neck out and let’s get on with this. We’ll toss these clothes in the trash in the morning.

“Condoms?” I ask, wrenching my mouth from his and coming up for air.

He points to the pocket of his shorts. “I bought a pack of a hundred at the store this morning.”

“Only a hundred? Okay, we’ll pace ourselves.”

So here’s the thing…there’s no time for me to have one of those quintessential What Have I Done freak-outs about Noah and me having sex because we technically don’t stop going at it the entire night. Sure, there are a few bouts of intermittent sleep and a few breaks for hydration purposes. We go halfsies on a protein bar at like 3:30 AM and I think I cobble together an hour or two of shut-eye here or there. But for most of the night, we’re going at it like it’s our sole mission to repopulate the earth and we take our job very seriously.

It’s so bad that when my phone alarm starts its rhythmic blaring in the morning, I’m not sleeping. I’m flat on my back with Noah’s head between my legs. HELLO, I’m not going to cut this moment short. I slam my hand down on my phone, pressing whatever buttons I can find to make it shut up, and then I go back to enjoying Noah’s fantastic mouth.

A second later, I hear something.

“Sweetie?”

I freeze.

Wait. Is that my mom’s voice? Am I so sleep deprived that I’m starting to hallucinate?

“Audrey? Is everything okay?” Her sleepy voice gives way to alarm. “It’s the middle of the night, hun. Are you all right?”

OH MY GOD. In my haste to turn off my phone’s alarm, I must have pressed too many wrong buttons and accidentally dialed my mom.

I scramble for my phone. “Fine! Totally fine! Forgot about the time difference. Sorry! Call you later!”

I jackhammer my pointer finger down on the red END button so many times I think I crack my screen.

Noah can’t quell his laughter. He thinks this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened.

He’s smiling against my inner thigh even after I groan at him to cut it out.

I think that’s as bad as it can get, but it turns out the real issue with turning off my alarm isn’t the accidental phone call to my mom—it’s that we majorly oversleep. When I finally check my phone sometime later, I realize we’ve nearly missed breakfast. Food’s not the issue—I could get a bagel down the street—but it’s my day to take the kids to the farmer’s market since I didn’t get to go last week. If I don’t show my face soon, they’ll come looking for me, and that would be the absolute worst-case scenario.

Uh, kids…Mommy and Daddy are…wrestling. COME BACK LATER.

“Noah, we have to get up. We have to.”

He’s sleeping on his stomach, completely exhausted. When I shake him, he groans and rolls over, tucking me deeper into his side.

“The kids are going to come looking for us and what’s our excuse going to be for why you’re in my room—NAKED?”

That does the trick.

He sits up and rubs his eyes, blinking against the bright morning sunlight seeping in through my window. I get momentarily waylaid processing the sight of him like this. Tan, naked, gorgeous. His hair is fantastic and mussed up and I can’t resist the urge to kiss him. Just once.

“No. No more!” I chide myself, pushing my body up and out of bed.

Noah doesn’t move a muscle as I run around my room naked, trying to get my stuff together so I can go take a shower.

“Are you going to move?”

“Sure. In a minute,” he says with a devil’s smile.

“Argh!”

When we stroll into the dining hall half an hour later, it feels like every head swivels in our direction. They know. How could they know?

For starters, Noah and I never walk into breakfast together. It probably looks suspicious that we’re hip to hip with our hands nearly brushing, so I decide to slow my pace and fall back, but then so does he, so I speed up past him. He does too. We look insane.

“Just—okay. Just go. I’m trying to—”

Forget it.

We get in line to get our food and Noah looks at me, practically telegraphing his thoughts with his bedroom eyes.

Remember this morning when you were straddling me? That was fun, wasn’t it?

I jab him with my rolled cutlery. “Keep going down the line, will you? Stop smiling.”

The cook eyes Noah with suspicious annoyance and only gives him one measly slice of bacon that’s been burned to a crisp. Meanwhile, I get a plate full of everything they have to offer. A breakfast fit for a queen.

Noah flicks his bacon, disappointed, and I assure him he can have most of my food.

“What should we do? Sit at different tables?” Noah asks.

“I don’t know. Let’s just…play it cool. We can sit together, right? Adults sit together all the time.”

At a table near the windows, Gabriella and Ashley are picking at the last of their food and finishing their coffees. They smile when they see us approach.