Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“You do?”
“Yeah, I want to give back somehow.”
I kissed his temple, his cheeks, and lifted his chin to kiss his lips. “You’re full of surprises.”
Noah purred contentedly. “Want to try?”
I shook my head. “Oh, no, no. I’ll ruin it.”
“No, you won’t. Watch me carefully. It’s all in the wrist. Don’t stab the needle, gently guide it, and…” He threaded a single bead in the fabric and turned the shirt over. “Voilá! Now you.”
He threaded another bead and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I took the needle, squinting as if that might help. Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. Noah cheered either way, pulling the shirt from my hands and climbing onto my lap and showering me with kisses.
We laughed when we came up for air, resting our foreheads and staring into each other’s eyes.
“Come with me to Santa Barbara.”
Oh, no. Was that me? Dagnabbit.
“Santa Barbara? The wedding shower?” Noah sat up and cocked his head.
“I know it’s not your best invitation, but we could make it fun.” I gave a dubious shrug. “Other people will be in attendance too…strangers. Like my parents, Bridezilla, her fiancé, and their friends.”
“Don’t go into sales, Professor,” he deadpanned.
I pulled a face. “Let me try again. Santa Barbara is nice. Have you been?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“The weather is usually perfect during the day and a little cool at night. According to Tabby, the Remington estate overlooks the ocean. They have a tennis court and other things I think we’re supposed to be in awe of…like a winery, horses, and a sauna. Or maybe their own spa? I don’t know. We’d stay at the resort nearby—not with my family.”
“That’s intriguing, but I—”
“I know. This is the date you said you’d never go on. I understand your trepidation. The truth is, I don’t want to go either. I can’t get out of it without causing issues. And yes, I can always ask Holden. They’re kind of expecting him. But I’d rather go with you,” I said in a rush. “So…what do you think?”
He took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Oh, Thomas. I’m not the guy you want to bring home to meet Mom and Dad and a shit-ton of strangers you don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“So many reasons.” Noah pointed at his Ru For President shirt meaningfully. “Look at me. I’m not the country club type, I work on Saturdays, and—”
“We can leave after your last client.”
“But I also have a scrimmage Sunday night. Jase is bringing Lincoln and a few of his buddies from his team and—”
“We’ll leave by noon at the latest so you’ll be back in time. It’s really just a twenty-four-hour thing anyway.”
Noah furrowed his brow as he bit his lip. “Thomas…I’m just not the right person for—”
“Shh.” I set my finger on his lips. “You’re exactly the right person.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Of course.” I kissed his nose and reached for my computer. “Show me your website. I want to see your work.”
He hesitated for a split second, then flopped beside me and pulled up his site. I asked twenty questions in rapid succession about fabrics and colors and anything else that popped into my head in a lame attempt to move on. Now, it was up to him.
Later that night, we put our work aside and went in search of chocolate. He didn’t have any, and I refused to pay twenty dollars to have a slice of cake delivered. Somehow, we ended up at a cupcake ATM. I didn’t know such a thing existed. In my astonished state, I think I paid three times the going rate for a cupcake, but I didn’t mind. It was worth it to see Noah dance in the moonlight on Hollywood Boulevard, holding a box of goodies over his head.
We kept the lights off and lit candles when we returned to his condo. Then we changed into PJs and sat with our legs crossed on the window seat in his dining room, feeding each other cupcakes and talking about whatever came to mind…how chocolate was made, why rainbows appeared darker in certain light, the lifespan of anemones.
He held a bite of his cupcake to my lips. “Try this. And tell me, sir…how long do anemones live?”
“They don’t age, so the potential for immortality exists barring the absence of predators or disease or—” I cocked my head. “You either want me to stop talking about marine life or you want to share my salted caramel cupcake. Which is it?”
“Never stop talking, Professor. I could listen to you for days on end and never get bored.”
“Never?”
When he just smiled, I cut into my dessert and held the fork to his lips. Noah locked his gaze on mine and opened his mouth. My cock swelled and an all-over chill tore through me.
I didn’t understand this longing. It seemed to get stronger at odd times. Like now. It wasn’t the chocolate or the moonlight or the stories we’d shared. It was him.