Out of the Blackness (31 page)
Kelly Clarkson’s “Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You)” pounds from Kaleb’s impressive sound system and I catch myself actually applying the lyrics to my life. Although the song’s “you” is, presumably, the singer’s ex-boyfriend, I see that person as my mother. And yeah, I realize that the day she left me was really my beginning. I am stronger now, and I am beginning again, surrounded by these people who care about me even though they have no reason to. And the most amazing thing of all is that I’ve discovered I have the ability to love someone so much I’m willing to face down mothers and little brothers, two of the most terrifying creatures ever to populate the planet.
All night Noah either holds my hand, has an arm around me, or holds me close the way he did at his graduation, with his arms around my waist letting me lean back into him. He holds
me
, the guy who recoiled violently when he first tried to introduce himself all those months ago. Tonight I’m his anchor, the one he introduces to everyone and doesn’t want to stop touching. I know it’s not alcohol making him so touchy-feely. I’ve monitored his consumption all night, but he’s been sipping from his bottle and, much to Kaleb’s chagrin, is only on his second beer in three hours. I’ve never seen him happier. I knew before tonight how hard he worked at his classes, but I don’t think I understood before this party just how much completing his degree—with honors!—meant to him.
I look up at him, so proud I think my heart will burst with it. He glances down at me and flashes that dimpled smile. I don’t even try to stop my fingers from tracing the crease of it in his cheek. He looks back down at me, clearly startled by my touch. Quickly he excuses himself from the conversation and pulls me by the hand through the crowd into Kaleb’s kitchen.
Thankfully the room is empty so he leans against the counter and pulls me into his embrace. “You still doing okay?” he asks, concern flashing in his gorgeous eyes.
I lean into him and reach up to press a quick kiss to his sexy lips. “I’m so proud of you,” I whisper, my throat closing with emotion.
“Yeah?” He beams a smile. “Thanks, baby. I’m pretty proud of you, too.”
That startles me. “Me? Why?”
Noah strokes my long bangs back from my face, letting the soft tendrils of my hair caress his hand as they fall through his fingers. “You have faced all kinds of demons today and you haven’t flinched once. Oh, baby, you’re doing so well.” He kisses me slowly, deeply and I wonder if I’ll ever get used to how amazing his kisses are. Somehow I doubt it. When he draws back, his eyelids stay closed for a few seconds, as if he’s taking extra time to savor the feeling. It’s insanely sexy. Finally, he opens them and reaches out to caress my bottom lip with his thumb. I think it’s almost a habit for him now. “I could kiss you all night,” he says with a smile. “Promise me we’ll try that someday.”
Instead of answering, I bury my forehead against the solid mass of his chest.
Noah strokes my hair and presses a soft kiss into it. “I didn’t mean to push you, little one. I know you’re not there yet. It’s okay. I promised never to hurt you and I intend to keep that promise.”
I smile tremulously up at him. “We need—”
An index finger to my lips cuts me off. “Shh. This is way too serious a conversation to have tonight. We have all the time in the world, baby. Let’s just enjoy it, huh?”
I shake my head in disbelief. “You always know, don’t you?”
He smiles and kisses me lightly. “It’s my job to know.”
“You’re insane. You know that, don’t you?”
He wiggles his eyebrow. “All the best psychologists are.” I groan and he laughs delightedly. “Whaddya say we blow this Popsicle stand? We can go home, pretend I’m sick again, and fall asleep in each other’s arms.”
I can think of nothing more wonderful than that. Alas. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
He laughs again and pats my buttocks. “Just drunk on you, baby. Just drunk on you.”
“I
just want to jump in there with him,” I whine, staring longingly at the lucky white duck nonchalantly swimming in the pond. I have no idea what possessed Noah to think that August would be a great time to go for a hike in the park, but here we are, strolling along beside the pond, sweating to death. It’s been two and a half months since his graduation. Noah has finally fully regained not only his healthy pallor and all his energy, but a deep, even tan that turns his skin a stunning golden and leaves sun-bleached streaks in his blond hair. He’s breathtaking.
“Funny you should mention that….”
I look at him askance. “Funny because we’re both sweating enough to make our own sweat pond or funny because you were thinking the same thing?”
Noah laughs a little and looks at the ground. “Uh, well either of those, I guess, but….”
Holy cow!
He’s nervous! Noah Yates is nervous! I take half a second to savor the moment before my enjoyment crashes and burns. If the ever-confident Mr. Yates is letting nerves get to him—nervous being a synonym for fearful, after all—then I should be flat out terrified. I feel every muscle in my body tense as Noah slowly looks up at me, a question in those hazel eyes of his. “What is it?” I whisper.
He grins a little shyly. “So, uhm, Mom and Luke are going out of town for the next two weeks. They’re going to visit my dad’s folks in Maine. We haven’t seen them in a couple of years and, you know, they’re getting up there and don’t travel well anymore, so yeah. Mom and Luke are going there.”
“Why aren’t you going?” The narrative flood of words aside, it seems unlike Noah to pass up an opportunity to see his grandparents.
“I didn’t get the time off work. It was either this trip or the time for finals. I’m gonna try to see them for Thanksgiving.” He smiles and wags a finger at me. “Stop distracting me. I have a point here.”
I lift one eyebrow at him and maybe kinda smirk a little.
“Okay, so it’s hot. And Mom has a pool. So I think we should take advantage of it. She already told me to invite the K’s and you and Sam over, but I figured it would be easier for you to go while she’s gone. I know it still freaks you out to deal with mothers, or my mother, or whatever. So what do you say? Wanna go swimming with me?”
I stare up at him, completely speechless. Swimming? With Noah? “I-I—” The image of him climbing from the bathtub, dripping wet and naked, flashes in front of me. I’ve seen him half-dressed since then, of course. Any time the man plays outside, be it a pick-up basketball game with one of the twins or lounging around the house on his day off, Noah favors basketball shorts and no shirt. I can’t say it bothers me anymore. I’ve grown used to his casual nudity, even come to look forward to it, especially when he presses that spectacularly sculpted chest against me when he kisses me. But swimming would require me to disrobe, too, and that isn’t happening. “I can’t,” I finally say.
Noah grins and wags a finger at me. “See, I knew that would be your first answer. But I don’t think it’s the one you really want to give me.” He takes my hand and tugs me over to a nearby bench, thankfully well-shaded by a giant of a tree. Oak? Elm? Redwood? How does one tell the difference? My thoughts collide when Noah brings my hand up and presses one of his licking kisses to the inside of my wrist.
I yank my hand away and frantically look around in distress. The area is deserted, as has most of the park been. Noah's chuckle brings my attention back to him and I give him my fiercest scowl.
He smiles back innocently. “So, care to tell me why you said no?”
“Not really. I don’t like swimming.”
“Uh huh. And?”
“What ‘and’? There is no ‘and’. I don’t like to swim, Noah. Can’t we just leave it at that?” I look away, back out at the ducks on the water, wishing I could fly away with them.
“I think you’re scared of something, baby, and we won’t be able to fix it if you don’t tell me what it is.”
I swallow hard. “Stay out of my head, Noah. I’m not your patient.”
“No you’re not. And you know I’ve never thought of you that way. But I do happen to care about you a great deal and I hate to see you deny yourself something out of a misplaced fear. Is it the water?”
“No.”
“My mom’s place?”
“No.”
“Is it me?”
I swing around to him with a laugh. “I haven’t been scared of you since I saw what a big baby you are when you’re sick.” It’s mostly true, although I haven’t been physically afraid of him for far longer than that.
He frowns. “It is me, then. Help me fix it, Aves. Talk to me.”
“It isn’t you, Noah. I told you: I don’t like to swim.”
Noah laughs suddenly. “Yeah, okay. Look, baby, you don’t have to wear a speedo or anything—although I wouldn’t argue if you did. You can be as covered up as possible without drowning.”
I shake my head and look at my feet. “How?”
Noah moves to sit on the back of the bench, directly behind me. His nimble fingers begin to massage my stiff shoulders. He leans forward and captures my right earlobe gently between his teeth. “I told you it’s my job to know,” he whispers, bussing my temple. He sits back up and continues the slow, sensuous massage. “So a t-shirt and board shorts ought to cover it. Do you have a pair?”
I shake my head, wondering if I’ve just agreed to his silly plan.
“No worries. I’m sure Luke has a pair that’ll fit you. Or we could go buy you some now. Get into a mall and out of this heat.”
“I’m not swimming with you, Noah.”
“Fine. You can be the beer babe.”
I cough out a laugh. “I am not your hired help, Noah Yates.”
“Who said anything about paying you?”
“Oh, you’ll pay. One way or another, you’ll pay.”
Noah bursts out laughing. “I look forward to it.”
***
Several heatstroked hours later, I lay on Noah's living room floor, my face pressed up against the cold air conditioner vent. “Turn it back on,” I whine pitifully as the air stops moving.
Noah just laughs from the kitchen. “You know, you could just go take a shower. I’ll put your clothes in the wash. You’ll feel a hundred percent better.”
I give the idea serious thought for half a second. “What will I wear in the meantime? I’m not parading around naked in front of you.”
“Oh, now that’s too bad.” The tone of his voice tells me he’s not really joking and doesn’t that thought just blow my mind. I know I’m nothing at all to look at, even with clothes on, not like Noah. And knowing what my clothes hide, I’m even more determined to keep them on, which means no shower and no swimming.
I reluctantly raise my head from the still-cool vent cover and peer in his direction. “Are you even doing anything or are you just standing in front of an open refrigerator?”
“Hey, you get cool your way, I’ll get cool mine,” he says around a laugh.
I shake my head sadly and slowly get to my feet. The heat of the day really has worn us both out, but neither of us was willing to cut short our day out. Even dehydrated, overheated and exhausted, I have to admit it’s been the perfect day. The long, meandering hike, the pond at the park, the Frisbee golf I’ve never played, still don’t understand, but am apparently good at, and best of all, Noah’s company make it one of the best days of my life. It amazes me how he can somehow coax and cajole me into doing things that are completely outside my comfort zone and I end up enjoying them. I know it’s his company I really appreciate though. I’m doing my best to savor every bit of time we have together.
I make my way into the kitchen, still turning that thought over in my head. He really is staring blankly into the refrigerator soaking in the cool air, so I sneak up behind him. As per usual, he’s shirtless, having stripped off the sweaty thing as soon as we walked in the door. I think I’m going to goose him and run like the wind, but instead I find my hands sliding around his waist to his flat, slightly ridged belly. His breath catches on the intake and he straightens to stand upright. I press my cheek against the smooth warm skin of his back and close my eyes. I sigh contentedly, my fingers lightly tracing the contours of his belly. I love the way his stomach muscles contract when I touch him, the smooth warmth of his skin against mine.
“Whatchadoin, baby?” Noah questions lazily. I hear the smile in his voice and my lips mirror it.
“Just feeling you. Is that okay?” His stomach is sprinkled with golden blond hair in a six-inch wide swath from points south of his waistband, slowly widening as it reaches his chest. He keeps it carefully trimmed so it’s not too dense or too long to enjoy. I do love the sort of slightly prickly feel of it against my soft palms.
“More than okay,” he answers, standing completely still as I explore. I smile again and turn to press a kiss between his shoulder blades. My hands slowly glide up his ribbon of fur until I reach the bottom side of his pectorals. If Noah's rippled stomach is lovely, his chest is insanely so. He has deep, square pectorals that swell and round slightly with muscle. I’m glad they’re not well-developed but flat like some men I’ve seen. Noah's chest makes a fantastic pillow, mostly, I think, because of that wonderful swell. Inadvertently my thumbs encounter his nipples and Noah sucks in a breath as they pass over them. They’re gorgeous too. They’re hard now and I can’t resist sliding my thumbs across them again. Noah jerks at the contact. I smile against his skin. A wicked thought bounces through my brain and for a minute I resist, afraid it’s too much, but when Noah leans slightly back against me, I give in. Encircling his pebbled nipples between thumbs and index fingers, I slowly, carefully roll them while simultaneously licking a few inches up his spine.
Noah gasps, spasms, moans and reaches up to capture my hands. He shudders a couple more times and brings my hands down to his stomach, encouraging a southward exploration.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath and admit to myself just how much I want this, how much I want to feel Noah’s naked skin against my palms. Like this, with him compliant and facing away, I’m safe to let myself experiment. Slowly, my trembling hands move on him until they encounter the elastic waistband of his basketball shorts. My fingertips edge under the silky material and he groans.