Out of the Blackness (33 page)

Suddenly it hits me and I feel the smile spread across my face. The man who claims he can’t cook is doing just that—for me. And judging from the delicious scents in the air, he’s doing a fantastic job. My curiosity outweighs my discomfort over having just left Noah's bed and I move quickly to the kitchen door.

I watch him in silence for a few minutes as he deftly turns the bacon and then one of the pieces of French toast. Without a grimace or a sign of uncertainty, he breaks two eggs into the skillet. I feel my love for him course through my body like a live current, setting me atingle. It amazes me that I am capable of feeling this way, but I know I wouldn’t stop it even if I could.

Happy laughter bubbles out of me without warning and the most wonderful man in the world turns to me with a dimpled smile and dancing eyes. He comes over, wraps his arms around my waist to bring our bodies together and takes my mouth in a deep, maple and bacon flavored kiss.

“I think I've been hoodwinked,” I accuse.

His low rumbling laughter travels through me, bringing another smile to my lips. No wonder people in love smile so much; they can’t help it. “Breakfast is easy. I swear it’s just breakfast and cookies.”

“Uh huh. And burgers and steaks on the grill.” I shake my finger at him but the effect is ruined by the smile still lingering on my lips. “I knew I should have checked your spice cabinet before I agreed to cook for you.”

Noah laughs again. “Too late now, babe. You’re stuck with me.”

And yeah, I’m more than okay with that. I’ll be by his side as long as he wants me.

The late night breakfast is delicious and I praise him liberally, which causes him to reward me with more of those very special pink-cheeked, dimpled smiles. Our conversation is easy now, as it mostly has been for months.

Together we clean up, laughing and teasing until he leans down to kiss me and I flick soap suds at him. His hands immediately fly to his eyes and he stumbles back a few paces until he hits the cabinets. “My eyes,” he groans in pain, fisting them fiercely.

“Oh, Noah! I’m so sorry!” I grab his wrists. I feel horrible. It was just supposed to be part of the game. I never meant to hurt him. “Stop doing that. We need to flush your eyes out.”

He shakes my hands off and I take a half-step back. His hands slowly come away from his face and I see a flash of demonic glee in his eyes before he reaches for me and drags me to him, tickling me like a mad man. I giggle and squeal and twist around until my back is to him, which is such the wrong thing to do because then he just leans over and practically pins me in place with his gigantic mass. “Noah! Stop!” I giggle just as he finds the one spot low on my ribs that always almost brings me to my knees. I feel the hot breath of his laughter on my neck and fight even harder. Finally I’m able to break free and I run for the safety of the living room. He’s hot on my heels as I dodge around the couch and grab the fly swatter from the table by his chair.

We’re both still laughing as I brandish my weapon like a fencing sword, lunging and retreating and teasing. He growls low in his throat and snaps his teeth at me like he’s taking a giant bite out of the air.

I stop and look at him, arms dropping to my sides. “You did not just do that.”

He blinks at me blankly. “Too much?”

I can’t help it. I collapse into a puddle of hysterical giggles right there on the living room carpet. “You are such a dork!” I gasp out.

The big brute picks me up off the floor and settles me on his lap on the couch. I bury my face in his neck and try to stop the giggles, but every time I’m almost calm, I get a picture of him taking a bite out of crime—er, the air—and lose it all over again.

“It wasn't that funny,” he deadpans.

I swat his chest playfully. “You didn’t see your face!” I sit up and mimic the chomp of nothingness and this time we’re both gone. It feels so wonderful, so beautiful, so safe, sitting here with Noah just being silly. I wrap my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his neck, and then another and another, up his neck along his jaw and finally, sweetly to his delicious lips. “Thank you,” I whisper against his mouth. I move so I’m straddling him instead of being draped across his lap.

“For what?” he whispers back, kissing me some more.

My hands frame his face and I draw back to look at him, to look deeply into those glorious hazel eyes I’m so in love with. “For being you. For believing I could be more than I was when you met me. For having the patience to let me get this far at my own pace and for pushing me when I need it.”

Noah caresses my cheek with the backs of his fingers, a gentle smile on his slightly swollen lips. “I never once doubted you were someone special, Aves. I know you did and you sometimes still do, but you’re starting to believe it and nothing makes me happier than seeing you happy. Your smile and laughter give me reason to get up in the morning.”

I duck my head, eyes filling with water. I collapse against him, my face in his neck again. His high praise always embarrasses me, but this also fills me with joy and a renewed determination to keep getting better. It would be so easy to tell him, to give in to the urge to say those three words.

Strangely enough, saying them doesn’t scare me as much as not hearing them back does. I know he cares for me a lot, but does he love me? It feels like he does, but I have no experience, no history to draw from. Until I can be completely certain, I need to keep that part of me safe still. I hug him fiercely again and scoot back off his lap to stand. I don’t have to fake the jaw-busting yawn that hijacks me. “Sorry,” I say with a blush. “I ought to be getting home. It’s late.”

Noah's fingers lace with mine but he remains seated. “You could stay. We could talk some more. You can use Luke’s room if you don’t want to sleep with me.” He half grins. “Or you could sleep with me. No funny business, I promise just cuddles and conversation.”

I laugh. “Cuddles and conversation?”

He grins cheekily. “And kisses.”

“Going for the full alliteration now, are we?”

He shrugs, still grinning.

It is so tempting to curl up in his strong arms again. I yawn again, no less forcefully. “I really better go.”

“Stay. Please.”

I weaken momentarily, much to my surprise. Snuggling with Noah does feel good. But no. I’m not ready to spend the night, not yet. “Sam would be here at the crack of dawn. It would be ugly.”

He smiles and tugs gently at my hand. I lean over him, bracing myself on the couch on either side of his head. He kisses me tenderly. “You really think they aren’t expecting it?”

“What? No!”

He laughs quietly and kisses me again, deeper this time but just as gently. “Baby, they’re practically shopping for wedding gifts.”

“What?” I yelp, straightening and taking a step back, practically tripping over the coffee table.

“Easy,” he coos, hands on my hips to steady me. I shrug him off and search frantically for my shoes, blood pounding in my ears. I know Kaleb has been none too subtle in his insistence that my friendship with Noah needs to change into something…intimate, but surely the others aren’t paying that much attention to us, are they? And what business is it of theirs anyway? That’s the problem with having such an interwoven group of friends, they all think they know what’s best and—.

My brain and body both freeze at the feel Noah's hands on my face. I keep my head down when he tries to tilt it up. I don’t want him to see the tears in my eyes, can’t let him read the raw emotions on my face.

“Little one,” he croons soothingly. I slam my eyes shut against the effect the endearment has on me. “It’s okay. I promise. The rest of them just want to see us happy. They see how happy you make me, so they want to push. It’s natural, but…. Look at me.” I shake my head. His voice is firmer but his hands ease their already gentle hold. “Please look at me.” He waits patiently and finally I gather enough strength to meet his intense gaze. “That’s better. Thank you.” His thumb finds my lips as usual and I tremble out a smile. “No matter what they want, it doesn’t matter, okay? There’s only two people in this relationship and we—you and I—we take this at our pace, your pace.”

I bring my hands to his strong forearms and realize my lips aren’t the only things trembling. I’m practically vibrating. I drop his gaze and stare at the carpet. “I don’t know what you want,” I whisper.

Noah laughs warmly. “That’s easy. I want you—as much as you’re willing to give me, for as long as you’re willing to give it.”

I look at him again and see only sincerity in his eyes. I take a ragged breath that makes him smile. “You deserve so much more.”

“Then give me more.” He kisses me softly, a kiss I knew was coming since his thumb alighted on my lips. “I only want you, kid. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

“But why?” I ask, genuinely baffled. Of the tens of thousands of men in the city, why would he want me? I don’t understand it at all.

Noah brushes my bangs out of my face and smiles again. “You already know, you just won’t let yourself see it yet.” He grasps my hands and pulls me to my feet with him. “You better go while I’m still willing to let you walk out that door.”

I wrap my arms around this enigmatic, patient hunk of man and hug him tight. He presses a kiss to my hair and whispers into it, “So much.”

It’s the second time he’s said that, but I’m afraid to ask what he means. Instead I gather my things and bid him goodnight.

As I drive home, the entire day replays through my head and I wonder if I’ll ever sleep again for all the thinking I have to do.

***

I am surprised the next morning when I walk into the kitchen to find Sam sitting at the table eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes. It’s not his atrocious choice in breakfast foods that surprises me; I’m used to that. It’s his being there at all.

“Don’t you work today?” I ask, stopping short.

He motions to his mouthful, chews, swallows and says, “Second shift this week, remember?”

“Oh,” I say, heading for the coffeemaker. “Obviously not. Sorry.”

“So…you got home late,” he fishes with a grin.

I smile into the cup as I deliberately pour the coffee. “Not too late.”

“It was after midnight. Do I need to put you on a curfew, young man?”

The smile in Sam’s voice makes me laugh and almost spill the hazelnut creamer I liberally add to the coffee. “I promise to be a good boy.”

“Not too good, I hope. Are you being careful?”

I take a sip of the coffee and moan in delight. It’s perfect, strong and sugary and warm, sort of like Noah. Then Sam’s meaning hits me with all the subtlety of a freight train. “Geez, Dad,” I say, blushing furiously.

“Well are you?”

I widen my eyes and swing around to meet his gaze. “Sam, nothing’s happening.”

He frowns slightly. “You’ve been dating for months and you still haven’t had sex?”

“We haven’t been—” I can’t finish the denial because, much to my surprise, I realize that’s exactly what we’ve been doing.
Clever, clever Noah
. I laugh. “Yeah, I guess we have been, but no we haven’t.”

“Holy circular thought, Batman!”

I laugh again and sit across from my big brother, clasping the coffee mug in both hands. “Yes to the dating, no to the sex.”
Yes to the dating. Mind officially blown
.

“Wow.” His expression is truly mystified. Then he smiles. “My little brother is dating—and admitting it. I’m so proud!”

I suppress my laughter only long enough to give him my best glare. “I’ve only just now admitted it to myself, so no gloating.”

“No gloating, I promise. But, why no sex? Don’t you want to have sex with him?”

The scarred surface of the table is suddenly very interesting. Sam waits silently, letting me figure it out. “Okay, yes,” I finally whisper. My eyes cut to his. “But I can’t risk it, Sam. I mean it’s bad enough I went and fell in lo—
like
—crap. I like him, Sam. I really do. And, honestly, that scares me enough without adding sex to the mix. What if I’m not good at it? What if I can’t do the things he wants me to do? Sex complicates things, even you’ve admitted that.”

Sam frowns and covers my hand on the table. “Sex can complicate relationships that aren’t ready for it, but I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about, and I’m glad for that. You needed to let someone else in. Noah found a way. He’s not going to hurt you and he’s not going to leave you. He doesn’t want to.” He grins. “Besides, he knows Kaleb and I would slaughter him if he did.”

I smile wanly and take another drink. My thumbnail traces a long scratch in the soft wood of the table. It’s new, this wondering what it would be like to have sex with Noah. I’ve never had a raging sex drive, not like the men I read about or see on the TV. I’ve always been too conscious of what my body looks like to want to bare it for someone, even a total stranger, maybe especially a total stranger. My scars are ugly, visible reminders of the hell I’ve lived through, but they’re also a plain and clear invitation to add to them. They mark me physically and psychically as one meant to be beaten and abused. I remember the business card in my dresser drawer. Maybe it’s time to give some thought to calling the plastic surgeon’s office, if only for information.

Ignoring the psychological discomfort of being naked in front of someone, there’s the emotional jungle of sex itself. Nothing short of infancy leaves a person more vulnerable. It would mean trusting Noah to not hurt me on a level I can only scarcely comprehend. I told him, sort of, last night that allowing myself to have sex with him only to have him abandon me like my mother did would really and truly kill me inside. He has managed to scale or destroy the barriers I keep between me and other people, and I’m comfortable in the knowledge that Noah will never intentionally hurt me, but having sex with him would open my heart and head and soul in depths I can’t even fathom, let alone protect.

I love touching and kissing and cuddling him. I love how just a smile or a look, not to mention a touch or kiss, can create a fire within me that all but begs for more. There’s no question that I’m physically attracted to the man or that, if it weren’t so complicated and compromising, I would love to find out what it would feel like to make love with him. But it is complicated and compromising and it’s asking a lot more than I can give right now. But then again, before February, I never would have believed I’d let him kiss me, and before last night I never would have believed I would stroke him off in his kitchen.