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Noah shouted as his orgasm hit him. “Oh, Kristina. Oh, fuck. Oh, God.” He moved through it, more of those slow, deep thrusts that made her whimper and writhe.
When he finally stilled, Noah withdrew on a shudder, but he didn’t let her go. He hugged her tight, his front to her back, her front still to the door. He let his head thunk against the solid surface, the sou
nd of a thick swallow right in her ear.
“Noah?” He didn’t answer, just continued to hold tight. “Noah, let me turn around.”
Finally, he released her, and then she was the one clinging tight to him. She turned, pressed onto tiptoes, and threw her arms around his neck. One beat passed, then another, and then he finally returned the embrace, his arms going loosely around her back.
Now. Now she had to tell him. She had to lay it all out there and tell him exactly how she felt. No more “it’s just sex” charades, no more delusions that they were just friends, no more holding back this beautiful, overwhelming feeling inside her.
She pulled away just enough to meet his eyes, and her hands slid down to cup both sides of his face. “I didn’t sleep with Ethan, Noah,” she said, shaking her head. “I left his apartment because I realized how much of a mistake it had been to go out with him at all. Because … because you’re the one I want. You’re the one I’ve always wanted. You are my best friend, but you’re also the man I’ve fallen in love with.” The words came faster and faster, spilling out of her now. “I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know if it was two weeks ago when we kissed in your room or nineteen years ago when I fell off my bike and you rode over to ask me if I was okay.” She shrugged, so full of emotion that her chest ached and tears pricked her eyes. “But it doesn’t matter when it happened, only that it did. I love you, Noah. I love you so much.”
Chapter Eighteen
The words were like a slap to Noah’s face, jarring him back to reality. They rang in his ears over and over—I love you, Noah. I love you so much.
All Noah could do was stare down at Kristina’s pretty face, so filled with sweet affection. For him. Her damp hair was drying in messy waves, and her lovely chest heaved, still flush with the exertion of what they’d done. And it all made her the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. But as much as her words tempted him, as much as he wanted to be able to lay claim to them, he also heard three others echoing inside his brain.
Give me everything.
The fucking irony.
Because if tonight proved anything, it was that Noah had absolutely nothing to give. Despite knowing he shouldn’t take what wasn’t his to have, he’d done it again. Despite knowing—and even saying—that he wasn’t capable of doing what she wanted, being what she wanted, giving what she wanted, he’d done what he’d wanted, ignoring what was best for her.
In the end, all he’d done was take and take and take—her affection, her body, her love. Jesus, he’d fucked Kristina up against the front door of his apartment, not even bothering to undress her, or warm her, or dry her off from the storm.
Gently, he grasped her hands in his and pulled them away from his face. No matter what he might or might not feel for her, he just didn’t have it in him to take care of her the way she needed. The way she deserved.
That much was clear.
Because if he couldn’t put her first when they were friends, no way would he be able to do so if they were lovers. When it would matter more. When the stakes would be higher. And the fact that he was still holding her hands, that he wasn’t pushing her away like he should, was the problem in a nutshell.
What a fucking selfish bastard.
Worse, he hadn’t been motivated by anything good when he’d chased her out into the rain. Instead, he’d been driven by a noxious cocktail of blinding jealousy, raw emotion, and utter frustration. The whole day had been such a build-up of stressors that he should’ve known better than to even try to talk to Kristina. Finding that she’d come home with Ethan had just been one stressor too many. The thought that she might be just a few feet away and falling into another man’s arms, another man’s bed, another man’s heart…it had all been too fucking much.
Especially since he had absolutely no question in his mind or his heart. Noah loved Kristina. He was in love with her, too.
So he’d gone after her. And made everything worse.
In all his pathetic weakness, he’d done the exact thing he knew he should never do again.
Not just having sex with her, though that was bad enough. But leading her on and giving her hope, when he for sure had none of that to give.
“Say something,” Kristina whispered, wide blue eyes peering up at him. Hopeful and wary in equal measure.
“I don’t know what to say,” he managed, hating himself as a flash of uncertainty passed across her pretty features.
She licked her lips, her eyes boring into his. “Say you’ll give us a chance. Say you’re with me in this. Say you…” She gave a small shrug that read as self-consciousness. “Say anything,” she whispered.
Noah dropped her hands, fastened his jeans, and stepped back. It hurt him to put space between them, it really did. Because he knew that he was building a permanent wall between them, one he’d never get to cross again.
“I can’t, Kristina. I told you that. I told you,” he said, heat slinking into his tone, pain slicing through him, anger and grief clouding his brain.
“There’s nothing stopping us from giving this a try. You can’t deny that there’s something here, because we keep ending up in this same place—falling into each other’s arms and then wondering what it means, or if it should mean anything—”
“It doesn’t.” It couldn’t. He gave a fast shake of his head, swallowing the sour bile rising at the back of his throat. “It doesn’t mean anything except that I’m a weak motherfucker and a horrible friend.”
