AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The next morning, we take a shower together, and even though I’m sore, Noah takes me again, but he’s conscious of my body. He takes me slowly this time while holding me up against the shower and looking deep into my eyes until we crash into each other, our release rolling over us like gentle waves.
It's fast, but I am completely and irrevocably in love with my stepbrother, and I don't even care what that means. I'm not going to psycho-analyze it. I'm just going with how I feel, and how I feel is that I never want this to end. I want to be with Noah every second of the day just like this.
He drives us to the yoga studio where he stands guard by the door, watching everyone who comes in. I feel his eyes on me often, and when I look up and see the hunger in his gaze, it makes my body flush all over.
We walk to the deli next door and have lunch together on my break. Then, we go back to me teaching and Noah standing at the door like a sentry.
I see the women in my class casting curious glances his way, but thankfully, nobody is rude enough to ask me about him.
It's not that I'm ashamed of Noah. On the contrary, I'm glad they don't ask me about him because I'd be tempted to tell them that he's my boyfriend instead of my stepbrother, and I mean, I don't know how he would feel about that. Does he want us to keep whatever's going on between us on the down-low?
The way his eyes light on me with such tenderness makes me dare to hope that he feels the same way I do, but I'm just not sure. I don't want to push too early and freak him out.
I've never had a boyfriend before, but I've heard about those needy girlfriends who push their guys away, and I certainly don't want to be like that. I can't bear to lose Noah. Not now. He makes me feel more complete than I've ever felt in my entire life, like he's the missing piece of myself that was always out there, just waiting to be found. We click, and it's so easy to talk to him.
Even when we sit in silence, it's not awkward. It's like we always were and always will be.
When Mom and Noah's dad call to check on me and make sure I'm okay, my heart races in my chest as I tell them, “Noah is taking good care of me,” and he gives me that beautiful smile as he kisses my palm.
I want to spend every day of the rest of my life like this with Noah shadowing my every move, making me feel safe. I know no one will mess with me when he's around, and I'm like a flower in the sunshine, basking in His presence.
When we go back to my apartment and make dinner together, I can't stop laughing at how hopeless Noah is in the kitchen. The man acts like he's never boiled a pot of water before in his entire life, but it's fun teaching him how to cook, especially when he wraps his big arms around me from behind and helps me stir the sauce like he needs guidance doing even that.
Our breathing becomes heavier as we stir it together until he reaches over and turns the burner off before turning me in his arms and lifting me onto the counter to kiss me deeply.
From there, one thing leads to another until he has me splayed out on the countertop while he rams into me from behind, pulling my hair and demanding that I call him Daddy. And I do, of course.
I love letting him be my daddy. There's something so deliciously forbidden about it, and I don't care if it's wrong. I love it.
Because Noahismy daddy. He's the one who protects me. The one who watches over me, and I love the way he calls me his princess.
When we're done, I pull my yoga pants back up and straighten my tank top while Noah struts to the bathroom to clean himself up.
I spot his phone laying on the kitchen floor where we must have knocked it off in our frenzy, and I bend over to pick it up, my lips tipping up into a smile as I see the photo album open and a picture of me sleeping in my bed.
Did he take this photo of me last night when we were sleeping together? That's so sweet.
I set his phone down but frown and look more closely at the picture when I notice something that causes my breath to catch.
He couldn't have taken his picture last night because I'm wearing clothes in it. I slept naked in his arms all night long after we had sex.
A shiver runs down my spine, and my heart begins to beat erratically when I recognize what I'm wearing in the photo as what I was wearing the night before the day I came home to find that someone had been in my apartment.
I'm a stickler for little details like this, and I remember vividly the pink tank top and sky-blue sleep shorts I wore the night before the incident.
This can only mean one thing.
Noah was in my apartment that night. Or wait…
I peer down at the screen and notice that the angle of the picture seems too high—even for Noah.
My heart hammering, I rush into my bedroom and search for the angle the picture must have been taken from.
My eyes flick up to the top shelf of my bookcase. I reach up, knocking all the books off in my frantic search.
My heart flutters as a tiny square falls on the floor. I reach down and pick it up, a sinking feeling in my chest as I realize what I'm looking at is a camera.
Noah has been in my apartment without my knowledge and put a camera in my bedroom. I glance around in panic. Are there other cameras around my apartment? When did he do this? And how many photos has he been of taking me with these cameras? Does he have live video feeds of me too?
