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Her tongue swirls over the tip of it, grabbing every last drop. I roughly press my nose to hers, rubbing them together. When her blunt teeth nip at my thumb, I let loose a gravelled laugh and slowly pull it out.
The driver clears his throat. “At the risk of being yelled at again, I should be taking you to the party still, right?”
21
TINSLEY
I still tastehim minutes later when we pull up in front of the club. Taste him, feel him, crave him.Want him.The thrill inside of me is one I’ve only felt after a winning match. Noah elicited that response from me. No, hecommandedit, coaxed it out of me with dirty eyes and an arrogance that shot directly between my legs. I can’t remember ever being so turned on.
I’ve never been outgoing with my desires. Maybe that stems from my overall lack of love life or just simple insecurity. Not many boys flocked to me much growing up. Not only was I looked at as one of the guys because I was more concerned with training than flirting, but on the rare chance a boy showed me any serious interest, Noah was there to scare him off the moment he stepped foot in Toronto to visit.
Somehow, I’d managed to lose my virginity to a guy in twelfth grade a few weeks before graduation. I knew it was my last chance before Noah returned for the summer, and I refused to go my entire life a virgin. In the end, a very disappointing and painful five minutes was all it turned out to be. But even if I had wanted more with the guy after school ended, my shadow returned that summer.
A hulking, grouchy man shadow who that very summer punched a guy in the face when he asked me for my number. Honestly, I didn’t mind the overprotectiveness much. Noah was always everything to me, and I knew I was everything to him. We had each other, and that was more than enough. But I can’t pretend that the smallest part of me doesn’t feel as if maybe I’ve missed out on a lot of experiences that I should have had as a teen but never bothered trying. Like staying out past curfew to kiss boys or experimenting with my sexuality.
Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in your twenties? Make a million mistakes and get your heart broken? I’m not unhappy in the slightest with how I’ve lived my life up to this point, but I am curious. And that’s all on me. I had ten months of the year to put myself out there and try new things, but I spent them at home on the phone with my best friend every night instead, waiting for when we would be together again.
It was weird to those who didn’t know us and even to some who did. My other half lived across the country. I should have gone out and lived my life to the fullest without him, but something inside of me always rebelled at that idea. If I couldn’t do something with Noah, then I wouldn’t do it. Simple as that. And I knew he was the same.
Never did I imagine we would be here, doing the things we’ve done over the past couple of weeks. It’s all wrong. Best friends don’t have heated moments in their childhood bedrooms or make each other come in their pants in the back of rental cars. My face heats at the reminder of what followed that shocking event.
For something so wrong, I can’t help but realize how right it feels. Like peeling off a blindfold that you never realized you were wearing. I want to be scared at what’s happening between us, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer. That’s the terrifying part. It sounds naïve. My father would be the first to tell me that. Strangers would question if I should be put in an asylum.
But Noah wants me, and there’s no doubt in my mind that if I gave in to him, he would never let me go. I’d be the most treasured person on this earth, set on a throne made from his blood, sweat, and tears. Our friendship has always been destined for forever;nothingcould change that. Yet, I know there’s something holding me back. The tiniest thorn in my side reminding me not to take the leap.
Would I be happy?Could he truly give me the kind of love I need? Not just obsession and protection and desire but genuine love. I don’t know if I could sacrifice that for him. Not yet. I’m not ready to say whether or not it would be worth the risk.
“Tinsley.”
“Huh?” I ask, snapping my head to the side to look at Noah. He’s frowning. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
Shuttered camera flashes bounce off the SUV’s tinted windows. I wince, nearly reaching for the fresh scratches on my arms. They don’t sting anymore, but I don’t want another set to match.
“They won’t touch you.” It’s an angry promise.
He’s too far away from me, sitting properly in the opposite seat. I want to yank him back, want to feel his muscles grow stiff beneath my fingers again. I slowly release a breath and grapple for some sense of calm.
“We should go, then.”
He rolls his jaw. His eyes are watching me, brimming with a deceptive gentleness. “Guess so.”
Neither of us moves. It’s hot in here despite the air conditioning blowing against my sweat-slicked skin. My clothes feel too tight and heavy. I shut my eyes and clench and unclench my fingers. When I open them again, Noah is still watching me, but he’s closer, leaning across the middle seat between us as if he couldn’t stand the distance any more than I could. He’s still too far away but close enough I feel like I can breathe again.
Dark eyes trace the lines of my face before he strokes his knuckles along my jaw. “Don’t stray too far in there. I’d hate to have to tear the place apart to find you.”
I lean into the touch and grin. “Don’t act as if you wouldn’t like chasing me.”
“I’ve been chasing you for two decades. Never been able to catch you, though. The idea does appeal to me.”
The underlying dare in his words makes my stomach tumble in the best way. “Game on, then, Mr. Dark and Twisty.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he warns, the start of a smirk growing on his face.
I wink and, with a quick thank you to the driver, hop out of the car. The air feels like it’s gotten muggier since we left the venue, and I groan as it sticks to my skin. I doubt the club is any cooler. At this rate, I’m positive I’m going to just combust into a ball of flame the moment we step inside.
The sound of Noah’s door shutting has me rushing to meet him. He’s readjusting the red-and-black bandana in his hair when I bump him with my shoulder and nervously watch the crowds of people hanging around the entrance as they turn to stare at us.
