Placing a glass of juice in front of me, he asks, “Did you take the medicine I left for you?”
With a tired sigh, I say, “No. It makes me feel more nauseous, and I hate that.” Picking up the glass, I take a sip, smacking my lips when I relish the taste.
His gaze drops to my mouth at the action, his stubbled jaw clenching shut as he jerks his head to look anywhere else but at me. He clears his throat, busying himself. “What do you take to cure it then?”
“Usually a toast or something like that?” I shrug, not really thinking much of it.
Noah nods his head. “One hot toast coming right up,” he announces, rubbing his palms before getting to work.
My eyes widen. “Oh, no! Don’t do that on my account. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.” I place both my hands beside me and am about tohop off the counter when his large hands cover my thighs.
“Stay seated, Andie,” he commands in a gravely voice, his body feeling closer than it was a second ago.
I can’t look anywhere else but at his big, manly, and rough hands covering mybareskin. Electricity shoots through me, firing my nerve cells, laying waste to any sensible one left.
Noah’s hands.
On me.
I must still be dreaming, I think. Because how is this real life?
“You’re anything but an inconvenience, Andie,” he continues. “Now, sit here like a good girl and let me feed you.”
My wide eyes slide to him, and his expression doesn’t leave anything up for argument. I nod and audibly gulp, because words seem to have ditched me.
“Good.” With that, he gets to work like he didn’t destroy the functioning of my brain. My thighs rub together as I feel heat in my lower belly.
Yesterday’s conversation barrels through me once again. And as I eat the toast he keeps in front of me, I wonder if it would actually be sobad to let him teach me and help me explore my body.
What’s the worst that can happen? He could refuse. After all, he already witnessed me humiliating myself twice; what’s a third time?
If by any chance of my lucky stars, he agrees, I could have the experience of a lifetime. I could finally get over the bone in my throat that is my virginity.
As I see him chewing on his food, his body leaning against the counter, I finally convince myself of all the good that can come out of this. Now, all that’s left to do is convincehim.
When both of us are done with our meals, he stands up, grabs our dishes, and heads toward the dishwasher.
As he bends down to load it up, I realize it’s now or never. And I’m not letting life or the people in it take away my chance at happiness, even if it’s sexual.
I suck in a huge breath and cross my feet over the counter—yeah, Noah still hasn’t let me move—and muster all the courage. Clearing my throat, I begin, “So, have you given any thought to my proposal?”
His back stiffens as he pauses mid-movement,literally in an awkward position between shutting the dishwasher and standing up.
“Noah?” I call out for him when it seems like he’s frozen.
My voice seems to jerk him into action. “What,” he squeaks. Clearing his throat, he repeats, “What proposal?”
“Oh, the one about taking my virginity,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders.
He turns to look at me and grabs the other end of the kitchen counter, his knuckles whitening as his head falls between his shoulders. “JesusfuckingChrist, Andie,” he mutters under his breath on a rough chuckle.
Unsure, my brows furrow as I play with a strand of my hair, framing my face. “Yeah?”
A minute passes before he finally looks up with a deep breath. “Andie, I don’t date,” he challenges.
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m not asking you to date me. I’m asking you to…you know…make love to me,” I explain with my hands intertwining.
He leans against the kitchen cupboards, his hands crossing at his chest. My gaze roves over to his bulging biceps, where the seams of his sleeves fight for their dear life to hang on.