Say You Swear

After the fiasco on Thanksgiving, Noah and I have found ways to spend even more time together, be it a quick walk to class or an early morning coffee run, even a few sleepovers a week at my place.

One of the nights he was here was rather embarrassing, because my parents called pretty late, so I had to let it go to voicemail, then make myself presentable and drag Noah into the living room with me, so I could call them back. The minute I told them he was here, my mom insisted on a FaceTime call instead, as I knew she would.

She was smitten in an instant, and my dad was won over when Noah deflected every compliment he was given regarding his game, finding a way to roll it over into something that didn’t place him in the spotlight, but highlighted the team as whole.

It couldn’t have gone any better, and by the end of it, they invited him over for the holidays, which I had to promptly remind them they wouldn’t even be home for.

Of course, that only led to Mom casually slipping in how she meant next year’s Christmas—her way of claiming him a keeper.

I had to agree.

Mason is back in full force and better than ever, according to Noah’s play-by-play of recent practices I had decided to skip. The game plan they went with when Mason was hurt is being rolled out again this week, but with several adjustments on the line.

Brady is an official starter now. He only steps off the field when the ball is turned over and it’s the defense’s turn.

Chase is doing well too, I guess, but I can’t even look at him, let alone speak to him.

I’m angry and with good reason.

But I wish I weren’t, because rage always leads to ruin.

And it seems mine was no exception…

Noah had to skip his workout this morning because he had an exam he had already rescheduled from their last game, so when he messaged me saying he was going to go to the stadium to use the gym he has a key for, he asked if I wanted to tag along.

He’s been beasting it up for about forty-minutes now, but I’m shot.

Completely winded, I step off the treadmill, snatching my towel off the railing to wipe my face, and as I turn around, I gasp, my hand freezing midair.

A shirtless Noah stands not ten feet away. His body is angled just right, allowing me the perfect view of his abs, clenching and unclenching as he works out his delectable arms.

I bite my lip, trailing the beads of sweat running down the center of his chest, over and between the lickable ridges of his ribs and stomach, before disappearing into his waistband.

My breathing grows heavy, my core constricting as his muscles do with each movement he makes, sending a burning desire straight through me. Rhianna’s “Skin” plays through my iPod speaker and all I can think of is the feeling of his body against mine.

My hand lifts, my fingertips skimming across my jaw, and slowly dragging down from there, past my throat, until they’re sprawled across my collarbone.

Noah lifts the hand weights over his head with fluid motions, his arms bending backward, his elbow bent in the air, giving me a full view of his core working. His sexy scripture tattoo teasing me, begging me to touch it, to kiss it.

To run my hands along it as I have so many times, waiting for the color within his eyes to change.

To darken.

Waiting for my man to lose his patience and take it out on me.

When he brings his arms back to his front, he glances over and does a double take. His stormy eyes lock on mine, sending a bolt of electricity from my head to my toes. Goosebumps rise over every inch of me.

There’s my favorite smirk.

Every nerve in my body is on high alert, and I squeeze my legs together, a pathetic attempt to relieve some pressure.

He knows it and holds my gaze hostage and motions for me to come to him.

Hell, at this point I’m ready to come, but not in the way he’s asking.

I don’t move.

I feel like a starved animal, crazed and dazed. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not.

This is Noah.

I don’t have to hide a thing from him.

Without breaking eye contact, he turns his glorious body toward me, his front now on full, magnificent display as he continues his workout, a small curve holding on his juicy lips.

He knows he’s turning me on and he loves it.

With hooded eyes, he watches me, aware I’m totally transfixed.

My heart rate spikes higher, and I lick my lips, unaware I’m moving until my back hits the mirrored wall behind me.

He begins a new move, bringing both weights in just above his belly button, and throws his arms out wide with the next breath. This requires him to stand wide, steel his hips, and puff his chiseled chest out ever so slightly with each extension of his arms, and I can’t take it anymore. I’m burning up, everywhere, all over.

It’s a raw, desperate need I can’t and don’t have to fight.

So I won’t.

As my palms glide along my silhouette, I imagine they’re his, slowly sliding from the sides of my breasts down my stomach. My head falls back against the mirror, and my eyes decide to close.

Just as I reach the band of my gym shorts, a warm hand wraps gently around my neck and I freeze, a smile curling my lips.

Got him.

I’m too far gone to open my eyes, especially when his heated breath fans over my face in the most erotic of ways, soft and warm and ragged.

I turn my head, unable to handle to the sensation growing within me.

Craving release, my fingertips slip into the waistband of my spandex, but he stops me from going any farther by pressing his tight body up against mine.

I whimper, his overheated body pressed into mine too much of tease when I know the feeling of his skin on mine. Noah groans in response to the sound.

His hand slips down my neck and across my collarbone, and my breath gets lodged in my throat.

He dips his head into the crook of my exposed neck, his favorite place, my favorite place, and his tongue darts out, tasting my sweat-covered flesh.

“Mm.” He moans. “I love the taste of your sweat.” His tongue runs from the bottom of my throat to my ear. “I want to taste all of you.”

“You have.”

“Not here.” He cups me over my bottoms. “Not with my tongue.”

My thighs clench, and he takes my ear lobe between his teeth, biting down lightly. He assaults my neck next, earning another gasp from me. His hand presses more firmly against me, gliding up until the tips of his fingers are diving beyond the waistband.

“I like these.” He peppers wet, hot kisses to my chest.

“Yeah?” I croak, tilting my head more.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles. The vibration of his lips against my skin sends a shiver down my spine.

“Then they’re all yours,” I pant. “Go ahead, take ‘em now.”

His body bounces with silent laughter.

“I’m so glad I amuse—” I cut off in a moan when his coarse fingers flick over my clit, before settling over the sweet spot.

I push into his touch, my plea desperate and needy. “Please.”

He groans, his free hand cupping my ass. Squeezing.

“Tell me, baby,” he rasps in the sexiest fucking voice I have ever heard. “Tell me what you want.”

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. “Make me come.”

My man doesn’t make me wait a second longer.

He swiftly pushes a leg in-between mine, nudging mine open more, and slides a finger inside. And then another.

He moans, crashing his lips with mine, my arousal coating his fingers as he drives in and out. His thumb working magic on my clit.

“You’re soaking my hand, Juliet.”

“F-fuck.” I shake.

Sensing his eyes on me, mine open, and he grins, nipping at my lips.

“You’re twitching, just like you do on my cock,” he rasps, his eyes darkening.

“So give it to me.” I moan. “Let me squeeze you.”

“In a minute.” His attention falls to my body, and he licks his lips, his eyes coming up to mine as he lowers to his knees on the mats below. His fingers slip out of me, cupping up to tug the hem of my bottoms down, pausing when his knuckles are even with my clit, without fully revealing me. I reach up, gripping the back of his head and tug him toward me.

“You’ll be the first,” I admit, knowing what it will do to him.

His eyes flash. “Say yes.”

“Yes.”

I shake in anticipation, and then his lips close over me and my hips buck, my hands flying to his hair, pressing him into me.

His tongue sweeps, rolls, and sucks, and my gaze flicks past him, watching the muscles of his back move in the mirror across the room as he brings me to the hilt.

I look at myself, taking in my flushed cheeks and wild eyes. It’s insanely stimulating, seeing myself, watching my reactions in the mirror as he watches me. As he goes down on me for the first time.

It’s too much. I’m about to explode.

“Open your eyes, Juliet. Open those pretty honey eyes and look at me.”

I do as he says, his dark blues are even darker, his lids are low, fully hooded, and my pussy is in his mouth.

My breathing picks ups, my hands tugging on his hair.

“That’s it,” he croons. “Come for me, baby.”

“Kiss me while I come.”

He groans, sucks hard, and when my hips buck again, he darts up, slamming his mouth into mine. The man eats me alive, his tongue demanding entrance, curling around mine and coaxing me through my orgasm.

I rip away, gasping for air Noah can’t seem to find either. He’s breathing just as hard as I am now.

His eyes take on a naughty glint as his hand dips between my legs, and he slowly pushes inside, smirking as I twitch around him. I whimper, even more when he pulls out, lapping every bit of me off of him.

I’m on fire all over again, my body humming in places I didn’t know were capable of arousal.

I want a repeat of what just happened. Stat.

My hands shoot up, going for a fistful of his hair as he wraps his arms around me tightly. Possessively.

Something crashes to the floor around us, and we jump.

Noah doesn’t pull back or release me as to not expose my body, but he does looks up, into the mirror my back is pressed against, and his muscles lock.

“Shit,” he mumbles, his eyes slicing to mine.

The stiffness within them has my stomach turning, but I shift peeking past his shoulder.

Chase stands in the doorway, staring right at us. The noise was his gym bag falling from his fingertips, crashing to the floor.

A coldness washes over me, and I don’t look away, but he does. His face hardens, his glare pinned on the back of Noah’s head.

And how fucking dare he.

I run my hand up Noah’s arm, gaining Chase’s attention once more, and Noah’s eyes tighten.

“Let’s go somewhere private and finish this.”

Something flashes over Noah, but he blinks it away just as quickly as it came. He doesn’t say a word, but peeks down, adjusting my shorts so that all that needs to be hidden is, before moving over to the weights to get his shirt.

Chase still hasn’t spoken a word, but he’s looking directly at me, following my every step toward him as I lead Noah and me to the only door that leads in and out of this place, the one behind Chase.

Right as I’m about to pass, I stop, and Noah’s body nearly pumps into mine.

“You can have the place all to yourself now,” I say, and then I’m out the door, Noah right behind me. I slow my pace to walk in line with him, but he passes me and continues walking.

Suddenly, he stops, his chin lifting into the air before he whips around to face me. His expression is hard to read. It’s a mixture of anger and disappointment. Of sorrow.

Just like that, I feel two inches tall.

Humiliation burns over me and I can hardly meet his eye. I dart forward, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. “Oh my god, Noah. I—”

He goes to speak, but slams his mouth shut, shaking his head instead.

“I don’t know why I did that.” I run my hands over my hair. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I don’t …”

What the hell is wrong with me?

I’m not vindictive, and I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially him.

But that, that was downright nasty.

Spiteful.

I’m disgusted.

Vomit threatens to rise in my throat, my shoulders slumping in defeat, and I look away, too ashamed to face him.

After a moment, Noah sighs. “Come here,” he says gently, trying to hide the hurt in his tone, but I hear it.

Sense it.

Feel it in my fucking bones.

Like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, I make my way to him, and he tucks my loose hairs behind my ear, his hand holding there a moment.

“Let’s get out of here, okay?” He pulls his keys from his bag. “It’s getting cold.”

Nodding, I follow him to his truck.

I feel like, no I am such a super bitch that I don’t even know what to say to him. There are no words to excuse what I just did.

The uncertainties he voiced less than two weeks ago are likely in the forefront of his mind, and I’m the one who put them there.

I used him to make Chase angry, and we both know it.

Time ticks slow, the tension in the air tightening by the second and making the car ride home an uncomfortable one.

As we arrive at my dorm, he pulls up in front of the entrance instead of parking like he always does.

A few seconds go by without a word, so with shaky palms, I climb out, forcing myself to close the door. I turn to face him, realizing his hands haven’t even left the steering wheel.

“Noah, I really am so sorry.”

“I know.” His voice is wounded, but the fresh cut bleeds only understanding. “I know.”

It’s more devastating than anger because it means he thinks there’s something to understand in the first place. There isn’t.

“But I need you to do something for me,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Anything,” I swear, preparing my gut for what he has to say, and noting how his jaw clenches as if it pains him to do so.

“I need you to really stop and think. About everything. All of it.” He drops his frown to the seat, slowly bringing his eyes to mine. “I need you to think about him.”

Shock has ice spreading through my stomach, tightening my muscles to the point of pain.

“If you still love him at all,” he rasps. “If there’s even the smallest of chances for you and him, I need you to let me go.”

The air wooshes from my lungs in a quick hiss, my heart beating out of control. “Noah.”

“I need you to have mercy on me, Juliet… and let me go.”

Anguish peaks, my muscles convulsing as a sob threatens to tear through me.

Frantic, I fumble with the door handle, but Noah shakes his head, and I freeze, gripping the frame once more.

“Go inside, Juliet.” He faces forward, swallowing. “Please.”

It takes a moment, but I manage to let go. I stumble backward, breathless, breaking.

My vision begins to haze and I press along my temples, doing as he asks as he drives away.

I’m not sure how I managed to get up to my dorm, because I don’t remember getting the door open or stepping onto the elevator. I don’t remember going inside or Cameron coming out of her room.

I don’t remember falling to the floor, yet here I am, my best friend right beside me, stroking my hair. Her lips are moving, but I hear nothing, and then I see nothing, but goddamn it, I feel every.

Single.

Thing.