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  Now that the pressure was off, Morgan actually seemed like a pretty cool woman. “Deal.”

  “Should we kiss goodnight in the hall or are we good?”

  “I think we’re good.” If anything, this was a reality check to how pathetic I’d become. Thank God Morgan was cool, or I’d be totally humiliated. “Thanks again for tonight.”

  “My pleasure.” She kissed my cheek and pulled on her coat. “For what it’s worth, Noah, I think you’re a pretty great guy. If she doesn’t see that she probably doesn’t deserve you.”

  I don’t know what she sees. “Thanks.”

  Walking her to the door, I noted that Avery’s apartment appeared dark. Though she looked hurt to see me with another woman, she probably didn’t care all that much. I needed to nail this coffin shut once and for all.

  “Goodnight, Noah.”

  “Goodnight. Be safe getting home.”

  As I shut the door, I let out a breath. It was a New Year. I’d spent most of Christmas moping into my beer and making my sister’s ears bleed. This had gone on long enough. Even if Morgan wasn’t the answer, she was a step in the right direction.

  I was ready to be in a relationship again, but the last thing I needed was a relationship with another woman who didn’t want to be with me. And that truth seemed to shake some sense into me more than anything else.

  22

  Avery

  Sometimes I was grateful I wasn’t some above-average, off the charts prodigy. My classes were never easy, and I struggled to keep my GPA above a 2.5. The goal had always been to make Dean’s List and graduate with honors, but I lived in the real world, where I was lucky to get accepted at a top-tier university and invited back each year. The beauty of my struggle was that it kept my mind occupied for most hours of the day.

  But there were moments when my syllabus was handled, and my clients were scheduled, and boring, normal tasks had to get done. Hence the joy of lugging groceries from the corner market all the way back to my place on Society Hill in the middle of January.

  Slipping on a sheet of ice and catching my balance just as Winston caught the door, I huffed and blew a stray hair out of my face from under my wool cap.

  “Can I help you with that, Ms. Johansson?”

  Before I could vocalize an answer, he relieved me of my bags. “Thank you, Winston.”

  “You gotta watch getting around in those shoes. I’ll salt the walk again soon as I’m done helping you to the elevator.”

  Plucking my hat off my head, I caught my breath. My boots weren’t rubber soled or the sort any sane person would wear in the snow. Stretching my fingers to get the blood circulating under my mittens, I accepted the bags again.

  “It’s supposed to snow quite a bit tonight,” Winston said, as he followed me to the lobby and called the elevator.

  “Great.”

  Philadelphia and snow were a catastrophe. Cars had to be moved so plow trucks could fit down the narrow streets. Then, once the plows came through, the drifts piled up in the usual parking spaces, giving pedestrians the claustrophobic pleasure of feeling like they were walking through a luge shaft to get where they needed to go.

  The cold, northern temperatures ensured the snow piles took forever to melt, leaving hundreds of cars displaced, and the walks slicked with frozen black slush. Yes, I definitely needed to invest in new winter boots.

  Lugging my groceries into the lift, I thanked Winston again and keyed in my floor number.

  “Hold the door.” A hand slipped through the cracked opening just before it sealed shut and my heart stopped. Noah, holding his own bags, stared across the threshold.

  “Hey.” He broke eye contact and turned away.

  Were we speaking? To each other? “Hey.”

  Lips pressed tight, I stepped to the far side and stared at the buttons. The doors closed again, and I could swear the elevator was moving extra slow today.

  His natural scent mixed with the metallic trace of winter air on his clothes. From the corner of my eye, I noted he was wearing a new coat, this one wool with a duffel hood and wooden hoop buttons. Men really shouldn’t wear such nice clothes. It gave the impression they were trying too hard to be attractive, which he’d succeeded in doing. The man could honestly wear a poncho and bring sexy back.

  “It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

  Was he talking to me? Of course, he was. No one else was here. “Yup.”

  “The stores are all picked over. I got the last loaf of bread.”

  “Congratulations.”

  For some reason, people in this area bombarded grocery stores, stocking up on obscene amounts of bread, milk, and shovels at the first sight of a flurry. Where did all the shovels go from last year, I often wondered.

  “Did you get a backup charger for your phone? Sometimes the power goes out in the building when we get a blizzard.”

  I frowned. Was he actually trying to be nice to me? Like a friend? “No, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, I have one if you need to use it.”

  “I said I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m just being neighborly.”

  “Well, don’t hurt yourself.”

  For some reason, his gentle tone only reminded me of how awful his last few texts had hurt, and the sight of him plunging his tongue into some other woman’s mouth when he knew I watched. I couldn’t help the nasty tone in my own voice. It was the only way to keep from crying or apologizing.

  The doors finally opened to our floor and I stepped out, walking quickly to my door. Fumbling with my purse, I dug out my key just as my bag split at the seam and my groceries clattered to the floor, scattering everywhere.

  With a huff, I dropped my purse and other bags in the hall and went to collect my crap. Noah put his stuff down and bent to pick up a runaway can of soup.

  “Here.”

  “I’ve got it. Thanks.” I shoved the closest spilled items into my other bags.

  “You dropped these, too.”

  I stilled, my attention zeroing in on the box of tampons filling his hand. I snatched the box and shoved it deep into my purse. “I said I got it.” I scrambled to gather the rest of my items, but they were all over the place.

  “Avery.”

  This was so embarrassing. Couldn’t I just live a peaceful life without humiliating myself every time he showed up?

  “Avery…”

  He’d obviously moved on to greener, more brunette pastures and gotten over our little whatever the hell it was. No need to pretend we were still friends.

  “Avery, look at me.”

  “What?” My vision shimmered as my chin hardened.

  “Hey. I’m sorry.”

  “For what? You didn’t bag my groceries.”

  His head tilted, and his brows drew together. “You know this isn’t what I wanted.”

  “Oh, I know. I know all about what you want. You made sure of that.” I shoved the last of my frozen veggies into my bags and stood.

  I couldn’t look at him. I could barely stop my hand from shaking long enough to get my key in the goddamn door.

  “I didn’t sleep with her.”

  Come on with this fucking key!

  “The woman from the other night … she didn’t stay.”

  Finally, the lock turned. I kicked my bags and purse over the threshold and went inside, turning to face him.

  “It’s none of my business what you do, Noah. Excuse me. I have groceries to put away.”

  I shut the door, and his hand caught the wood, stopping me from closing it tight. My heart jolted as the muscles of his forearm bunched and flexed.

  The door pushed open against my protest, and he met my stare. “It matters to me.”

  I couldn’t do this dance with him anymore. It hurt too much to watch him move on, and I couldn’t do anything with him long term. “Get out of my home.”

  He shoved his way into my apartment, and I took a startled step back. “No. I want to talk to you.”

  “Well, I
have nothing to say to you. You’re breaking and entering.”

  He shut the door behind him and stepped over the pile of bags on the floor. I took another step backward. And another, but he intruded deeper and deeper into my personal space.

  “You’re the one who refused to answer my calls or the door. What was I supposed to do, wait around forever?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you stick your dick in a few randoms while you figure it out?”

  “You’re angry because you care.”

  “I’m angry because you won’t get out of my fucking apartment!” The back of my thighs bumped the arm of the sofa.

  He stopped walking when he was only a few inches in front of me. His eyes, pinched at the corners, stared down at me, his mouth flat. “Why does it have to be like this?”

  I looked away, unable to hold his stare. “You said it did.”

  “I said I didn’t want to be your friend.”

  “Well … your texts proved that to be true.”

  “I was angry. I don’t like feeling ignored.”

  “I told you all I could offer was friendship and you refused to listen.”

  “Why? Why is that all you can offer?”

  “We’ve been through this, Noah.”

  “Walk me through it again.”

  My eyes closed. Why did my chest suddenly hurt? “You’re too much.”

  “Too much what?”

  Everything. He was too intense, too real, too attractive, sometimes too sweet. Always too dangerous. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to restate the facts.

  “I’m moving in five months. I just need to finish the semester and graduate.”

  Warm fingers slid into my hair, and I flinched, pressing my eyes tighter, so they remained shut.

  “Where will you go?”

  “Anywhere I want.”

  “Why are you always running? Maybe just stop for a second and appreciate where you are.”

  His thumb dragged over my lips, and I swallowed the urge to whimper. He stepped closer, and I stopped breathing.

  “You’re so beautiful. Avery. So strong yet fragile. I want to rattle you and protect you. Just let me in. Please.”

  Warm breath teased my cheek as his voice lowered, and his head angled closer. I let out a whimper as he rasped, “Don’t move.” Soft lips traced delicately over mine, and I didn’t pull back. His mouth firmed, and I shamefully leaned into him. Slowly, he tipped his head, and his tongue pressed past my lips, swiping softly over mine.

  I turned my face away. “Don’t.”

  He turned my lips back to his. “Stop telling me no.” His long body pressed warmly against my front as my hands caught the side of the sofa.

  There was no escaping him, not because he held me down or had me cornered, but because only half of my brain wanted him to go away. The other half very much wanted him to keep kissing me.

  My hand lifted to his chest, riding over the curve of his broad shoulder and pulling him closer. I was tired of fighting the attraction, and when he touched me like this, it seemed impossible to push him away and so natural to give him everything he wanted.

  My muscles loosened as my grip tightened on his shoulders, and he eased me back. My mouth opened, and he groaned with satisfaction.

  “I’ve missed kissing you,” he whispered, taking it deeper and sliding his hands around my back. “I’ve missed hearing your voice.”

  My bottom shifted to the sofa, and his legs filled the narrow space between my knees. His hands massaged my ass, strong, groping clasps sending little shockwaves to my pussy.

  My fingers tugged at the collar of his coat, seeking the heat of his skin. He moaned at the first brush of contact and pressed his erection further into the cradle of my thighs. Then we were falling.

  The couch cushions caught my back as his body blanketed mine, our legs tangling as he pressed into me, kissing, rocking, tormenting. I stopped pretending I had any sort of objection and gave in to the pleasure he offered. My hands pulled at his coat, wanting to get it off, see his body, touch him with nothing in between.

  “Take this off,” I demanded, tugging at his layers of clothing, wanting it all gone.

  He sat up and quickly removed the garment. I did the same. He tossed his to the floor, but mine wasn’t so easy. I twisted and yanked my arms, wrenching the material away. By the time I wrestled it off, I was out of breath.

  He looked down at me, his gorgeous chest shifting above me with each breath. “What about this?” His fingers pulled at my shirt, and I nodded.

  He lifted my head and pulled the shirt away. His mouth crashed into mine, and I tugged him closer, my fingers forking through his blond hair as my other hand dragged down his muscular back toward his ass.

  Strong fingers pulled at my bra, stripping away the cups, and cold air hit my nipples as they puckered tightly. His mouth ripped from mine, working quickly down my throat to my chest.

  “God, Avery…”

  The way he touched me… It was the closest form of worship I’d felt in years. I wanted him to deliver a thousand licks of pleasure at my command, beg to satisfy my needs, heed my warnings, and obey my every command.

  “Put your mouth on my nipples. I want it hard.”

  The first hot lick had me arching into him. His hips rocked as he sucked and nibbled. He plumped my tits, squeezed, and held me to his mouth like a sacred offering.

  “Keep going.”

  The button of my jeans was yanked open, long fingers stealing into the front of my panties, and reality crashed over me like a bucket of ice water.

  “Wait!”

  Knowing he wasn’t good at minding the word no, I panicked and bucked my hips, knocking him right onto the floor. He landed with a grunt, and I sprang after him, rolling to my side, but he was already on the ground.

  “Shit!” I hadn’t meant to hurt him. “I’m sorry! That was an accident.”

  He rubbed the side of his head, his hair standing on end. “How did I know that was going to happen?”

  But it wasn’t what he thought. “I…”

  I glanced at the box of tampons, preferring to embarrass myself one way to the truthful option, which involved me explaining that I was emotionally unprepared for this. It wasn’t technically a lie if I didn’t say it out loud. He followed my gaze to the box on the floor and understanding dawned. He’d made the assumption on his own.

  “Oh,” he said, mouth twisting with disappointment.

  “I didn’t mean to throw you on the ground so hard.”

  “It’s cool.”

  “We can still … do other stuff.”

  He sprang off the floor and tackled me back to the couch. I grunted as he kissed me hard.

  I turned my face away. “Do what you were doing.”

  “Give me a chance to get there, bossy.” His hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs and fingers teasing.

  I was bossy. The question was, could he be obedient?

  I had yet to see his goodies, so I reached for his fly. My fingers wrenched the zipper until his jeans opened. Shoving my hand into his briefs, I was welcomed by thick, hot flesh. He was hard as a rock, and the second my grip closed around him he sucked in an audible breath and stilled.

  But this wasn’t right. “I need you under me.”

  It was comical how fast he rolled to his back, taking me with him. The side of my mouth curled into a smile as I straddled his legs. There was nothing sexier than a man who could follow directions. He was finally getting it.

  “Take these off.” I nudged his pants and lifted to the arm of the sofa to give him room. “All of it.”

  He kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks, and stripped in two seconds flat. My God, he was beautiful. His cock stood, tall and proud, like the first flag of a Fourth of July parade. Thick, muscular legs, cut abs, chiseled chest … perfection. Oh, this was going to be fun.

  I slid onto the couch cushion, filling the space between his knees. “Arms above your head.”

  His jaw ticked, but
he slowly obeyed, raising his hands to grip the sofa and revealing twin tufts of blond hair under his arms. I let my stare crawl over him, purposely trying to unnerve him.

  Where to begin?

  Creeping forward, I let the ends of my hair tease his six-pack, enjoying the way he sucked in a breath the moment my nipple grazed his hard cock. My tongue traced the flat circle of his nipple, and he groaned. Smiling, my teeth teased the hard tip.

  A hand closed over my ass, and I sat up, cutting off all contact. “No touching.”

  “What?”

  “I told you to keep your hands above your head.”

  He opened his mouth to object but snapped it shut when I raised a challenging brow. His arms lifted back to the cushion and he let out a heavy breath. My mouth returned to his nipple, this time closing around the tight tip and biting the way he bit and teased mine.

  He grunted. Most men weren’t used to having their nipples toyed with, and I never understood why. They could actually draw quite a bit of pleasure from nipple play. My body shivered thinking of all the sexy things I could do to him there.

  I gently closed my teeth over the rigid point and pulled until I heard him hiss in a breath.

  “Avery. Careful.”

  I smirked, remembering how sensitive he was the last time I pinched him. “You can take it.”

  My hand dragged over his stomach until my fingers circled his other areola, my tongue tormenting and playing a game of will it be pleasure or pain. I pinched the tip and pulled.

  “Fuck, that hurts!”

  “Should I stop?” My tongue swirled to ease the pain, and he shivered.

  “I thought we were going to do something else.”

  “We will.” I released his nipple, blew over the damp flesh, and moved my mouth to his other one. “Once you’ve earned it.”

  He groaned but kept his hands in place above his head.

  I played with him for a good ten minutes, really making him wait for more. The longer I teased, switching from one nipple to the other, the more he found pleasure in the slight pain. By the time I was ready to move on, his chest was heaving, lifting his swollen nipples toward my mouth, and arching his back off the couch as if silently begging for more.