I’m too flustered to say anything, so with a chuckle, he offers me a bite of the pancake he made. I open my mouth and let him feed me, keeping him stuck between my legs as I wrap them around him.
God, he’s such a good cook. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?” The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
He turns his head to the plate, buying himself some time before answering. I open my mouth when he feeds me the next bite. “You learn to make do with whatever is available when you have no one to cook for you,” he responds, a sad smile on his face. “I also may have worked at a diner for some time back when I was in school. Picked up a thing or two,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as if it’s no big deal.
Soon, we’re both done with breakfast when he picks me up with his hands under my butt, and takes us to the couch. Millie opens her eyes, peeks at us, and goes back to sleep.
I move to get off his lap when Noah’s arms tighten around me. “Let me go. I need to feed Millie.”
“Already done,” he replies.
“That’s sweet of you,” I praise as my hands circle his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.
A groan slips free from his lips as his eyes flutter at the sensation, and my naked core buzzes over his clothed length. “What are your plans today?” I ask to distract myself. My nether region is still too sore from yesterday.
Because cherry Cheerios, this man knows what he’s doing!
Noah snuggles his head in my boobs and mumbles between them, “I’m fine right where I am, thank you.”
A giggle slips free from my lips at his cute response. “No, but seriously.”
With a sigh, he pulls back and plays with the end of my hair. “We don’t have a game or practice today. So, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay in with you. Laze around and keep clinging to you.”
“So, you’re the clingy type, huh?” I tease, loving this side of him.
“It was torture being away from you, so you bet your cute little ass, I’ll be clingy,” he scoffs as if it’s unimaginable for him to do anything else.
I tap my chin and pretend to think. “You know, clingy men might be a deal breaker for me,” I jest, seeing if he gets riled up.
His lips lift in a wicked smirk as he scratches the stubble on his chin. “Good thing, no one asked you then, you brat,” he says, his tone huskier as he twitches beneath me.
God, I love how easily he switches from this clueless, playful guy to a dominant man.
And while I’d love nothing more than to continue on the track this conversation is going,we have more important things to discuss.
It’s like he can sense the shift in my mood, because his eyes clear too. “What is it, Rainbow?”
“Please know that I love you and whatever I’ll say is because of that,” I preface, hoping he doesn’t get offended when I bring up what I’ve been thinking over all night.
A small smile plays on his lips. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”
With a smile, my shoulders relax a bit, and I ask, “Have you ever had therapy or considered it? Or maybe talked about it with someone else?”
Thankfully, he doesn’t look offended, just confused. “No, just you. Why?” he says, shaking his head lightly.
My fingers wring together behind his neck, nervousness lacing my tone. “Well, after everything you told me you’ve been through, I really think that you should try talking to a therapist about it.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, apprehensive that he’ll dismiss the idea.
“It’s not because I think something is wrong with you or that you can’t handle it. It’s just that I’ve personally benefited from taking therapy, especially after I was on the verge of developingan eating disorder. The abandonment, their sneers, and distasteful looks became too much at times, and I found a way to rebuild my confidence after talking to Dr. Laura. She’s my therapist by the way,” I word-vomit, forgetting to breathe, hoping he’ll see that I want what’s best for him.
“Shhh,” Noah rubs his palm over the length of my thighs, causing goosebumps to spring. “Breathe, baby.”
Nodding, I mimic his breathing and calm down.
“Good girl.” There’s that flutter again in my belly. “Now, I’m not insecure enough to think less of therapy or get offended by the idea of taking it.”
My body relaxes at his words. “You’re not?” I still confirm.