Who knew.
12
Noah
We barely make it inside my front door.
I think maybe it had been the promise of what was to come when we got to my place; maybe that’s why she’d smelled so much sweeter on the drive over. Almost like she was anticipating it. Almost like she was excited for it.
It’s been a very long time since anyone has been excited to be with me.
My white coat is on top of hers in a pile, her back against the wall as my hands explore every inch of her they can reach. I’m learning that something about Mackenzie makes me impatient, and impatience is not something I’m used to experiencing. I don’t think I’ve felt restless in a long time, but Mackenzie makes me feel damn near unhinged.
“I like your place,” she says breathlessly.
I lift my head from her throat, her eyes as glazed as mine must be. “This is just the entryway.”
“Shut up and keep kissing me,” she huffs.
I thought I might have imagined it, might have made it seem in my head somehow more than it was—how sweet she tastes. Her honeysuckle scent is just that against my tongue, like chasing that one bead of sweetness from the flower and left wanting more with each little drop.
I feel her fingers in my hair, her nails scratching lightly at my scalp as she turns her head to allow my lips better access to her throat. “Did you”—she shivers as my teeth scrape across the trail my tongue has made—“really want me to show you my place?”
“After.” She sighs.
I feel my heart thumping in my chest, my lips pressing under her jaw. “After?”
“Bedroom is fine for now,” she clarifies.
She squeals when my hands curl under her thighs to lift her up and against me, her legs wrapping around me as if by instinct as her mouth finds mine. I would like to say that my hands curving on her ass are for her benefit, that I’m simply holding her tighter while I walk to my bedroom—but that would be almost entirely untrue.
Not that Mackenzie seems to mind.
Jesus Christ, I can smell how aroused she is. It’s something I could never get used to. What it does to me.
I want to be gentler with her this time, to be able to focus more on her sounds and taste and her body. But even as I’m laying her across my bed, one that has always been large but feels so much larger with her small frame sprawled across it—already I can feel that same strange sensation of being lost to something taking over. Will it always be like this?
Not always, something whispers in the back of my head. Only temporarily.
I push those thoughts far away as I crawl over her.
It takes me by surprise, as it has many times since we made this arrangement, just how stunning Mackenzie is. For what must be the hundredth time since she agreed to this insanity, I wonder why in the hell she would even need this fake relationship. How in the actual fuck has someone with half a brain not snatched her up?
And how is it me that ended up being the one who she came to for help?
“You just gonna stare at me or are you going to take my clothes off?” Her fingers tease my tie that hangs between us, her lips tilted in a smile as she winds it around her fist. “I know it’s just scrubs. But use your imag—”
“I don’t have to imagine anything,” I murmur, sliding my hand under her scrub top. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
I bend to press my lips to her stomach, the gentle slope of her belly quivering under my mouth as I push her scrub top higher. This close, the sweet fragrance of her slick is stronger, more potent, making the blood rush in my ears. I peek up at her as my mouth trips over her hip bone, finding her lips trapped between her teeth and her lids heavy with anticipation as I hook a finger into the waistband of her scrub bottoms.
“Last night I . . .” I have to close my eyes as her scent makes my head spin. “I didn’t—I want to—”
“You can do anything you want, Noah,” Mackenzie says huskily. “Just touch me.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
Her skin is soft—so fucking soft—and I find myself kissing every inch that I can reach as I roll her scrubs down her thighs and over her legs to toss them aside. The lime green of her underwear is darker between her legs, a glistening shine on the insides of her thighs as her slick threatens to drive me insane.
I hear her breath hitch when I duck to press my tongue there, licking a wide stripe against her thigh and shuddering as the flavor of her explodes across my tongue. It’s a tempting thought to remain like this, to keep tasting her skin just as I am—but I want more. I’m as careful as my trembling fingers will allow, peeling her underwear off her, and she lifts her hips eagerly to assist me until there is nothing but her scent and her skin and the slick wet between her legs that makes my cock ache.