It was one thing to let him carry her bag or even help her shave her legs, but if he ever saw her when she was in a full-on flare, when she couldn’t walk, when she did nothing but sleep for days on end, curled around a heating pad next to a jumbo-size bottle of ibuprofen… No. Being in that much pain was frightening, even after all these years, and she couldn’t manage anyone else’s fear when she already had to work twice as hard to manage her own. Besides, if she let Noah take care of her—reallytake care of her—then how long would it be before he was just like her ex-boyfriend, tired of being tied to someone who was always sick, resentful of the ways loving her would hold him back? She couldn’t bear it if Noah ever looked at her that way.
“Why does everyone think I can’t take care of myself?”
“Because you shouldn’t have to,” he shot back. “Because there are people who care about you—”
“Like you?”
“Yeah. Like me.”
“My health ismyproblem. No one else’s. And I don’t need people to care about me because they think they have to.”
She looked away, unable to see the intensity in his eyes without wanting to believe it. And she couldn’t afford to believe it because it was all temporary. A brief indulgence built on a lie and all of it would be over soon. If she looked at him, she’d think about how she’d lost him six years ago—just another thing fibromyalgia had stolen from her. She dashed away a tear before it could slide down her cheek.
“Callie…” His voice pulled at her, but she didn’t want him to see how much this wasn’t temporary for her. “Love…” It was thelovethat broke her, tears sliding down her face faster.
He grabbed the underside of her chair and pulled it closer to him, wrapping his arms around her, and holding her against him, her head in the crook of his neck.
“Caring for you is not an obligation,” he said, his cheek pressed to her hair. “It’s a privilege.”
She wanted to believe him, but she’d had years of evidence to the contrary—boyfriend after boyfriend who couldn’t handle the flares, friends who eventually disappeared without a word, a mother who used her illness like a weapon. Caring for her was a burden, one she knew he’d come to resent eventually.
Not that he’ll be around that long.
Chapter 19
The rest of their meal was quiet, both Callie and Noah lost in thought. Noah had always been the one who fixed things—for his mother, for his sister. He was the guy who took care of the people in his life. It was how he showed them they were important, how he made sure they all got from one day to the next. But Liv was getting married, his mother was moving on with her life, and Callie absolutely refused to let him in.Just like she wouldn’t let me in all those years ago.
They thanked Jamie for their meal (he wouldn’t let them pay) and walked back to Noah’s car in silence. It bothered him more than it should that Callie wouldn’t let him care for her when she was sick, even in a lie. And yet he’d seen cracks in that armor over the last few days, moments when she’d accepted his help, when caring for her had been something that brought them closer.
They had a few hours before they were due at the rehearsal dinner, so Callie went back to their room to take a nap. Noah dropped her off at the hotel and then drove back into town to the unassuming shop with the nondescript sign that he’d clocked when they were walking earlier, a plan forming.
It was selfish to want her to invite him into the most vulnerable part of her life, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stand by while someone he cared about suffered and do nothing. The helplessness would destroy him. He would prove to her that he could carry the weight of it, that his desire to take care of her had nothing to do with obligation. And he would start by proving she could trust him with her pleasure, so then she’d know she could also trust him with her pain.
Noah returned to the hotel room a half hour before the rehearsal dinner to find Callie stretched out on the bed readingMarrying the Secret Duke. She’d changed into a knee-length black wrap dress, her hair braided and wound up in a bun on the top of her head. He had the most intense desire to undo her hair, to have it fall around her shoulders and bury his face in it.
She looked up when he entered the room, her face lighting up. “You’re just in time for the best part,” she said, waving the book. “Bernadette is about to go to the masquerade ball where she realizes the pleasure club owner is really a duke.”
He toed off his shoes and tossed the small paper shopping bag on the end of the bed. “Oh yeah? And how does she realize that?”
Callie smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. “By kissing him of course.”
“Like this?” Noah asked, kneeling on the bed beside her and capturing her mouth. He moved slowly, tasting her, and licking at her lips until she parted to let him in. His tongue stroked hers and she went soft in his arms, her breathing coming faster. He kissed her neck, dragged his lips over her collarbone.
“Mmm, just like that.”
His hands found the tie for her dress, undoing the knot and peeling back the fabric to reveal her body as if he were opening a present. Like most days, she hadn’t worn a bra, the small globes of her breasts laid bare for him, tipped by soft pink nipples already pulling into tight peaks. He ran his hands over each breast, across her stomach, hooking his fingers in the waist of her simple cotton panties.
She groaned. “Noah, we have to go to dinner.”
“We have time.” He pressed a kiss to the low curve of her belly and dragged her panties down her legs, his lips following in their wake. Once he’d tossed the wisp of fabric aside, he planted a kiss on the inside of her ankle. “I’m going to fuck you tonight, Callie.”
She drew a shaky breath, her eyes growing darker, hooding with desire. “Now?” she breathed.
He chuckled, his lips pressed to her calf. “No, love. This is just the opening act.”
She shivered as his mouth moved higher, and he promised himself he’d remember every reaction—the way she sucked in a breath when he dragged his stubble across her skin, the needy tilt of her hips when he rolled her nipple between his fingers.
He slid a finger inside her, his thumb working her clit in slow circles as he teased her from within with long, languid strokes like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn’t interested in making her come. He drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it in long pulls that had her arching against him.
