Unspoken

~ Chapter Seven ~

I woke up with a start and bolted from the bed. I rushed to the bathroom, my hand over my mouth. Just in time, I threw myself to the ground and lifted the toilet seat. It was painful and hard to breathe as my guts began to spill out of me.
        My mouth tasted bitter as last evening's contents came up, choking me. My stomach hurt, and my nose burned. My head was throbbing.
         The feel of fingers brushing my neck caught my attention. Noah was pulling my hair away from my face. I wretched again, humiliated and embarrassed.
        "Go away," I groaned, sweating and panting.
        "I'm not gonna go," he chuckled. I dry heaved and gasped for air.
        "I don't want you to see me like this," I argued, dry heaving mid sentence.
        "I've seen worse," he said, kneeling behind me and rubbing my back. "I'm staying."
       I couldn't argue as I dry heaved again. A wave of dizziness washed over me and I swayed.
      "Steady, there," he said. I drug myself to the wall and leaned against it. The cool surface helped sooth the ache in my skull. "I'm going to go get you some water," he flushed the toilet. "I'll be right back."
       My eyelashes fluttered as he left the room. I drug myself to my feet and wobbled towards the sink. I was still a little drunk, and it took me a while just to get the faucet running. I rinsed my mouth several times, then brushed my teeth.
         Noah returned then, and handed me a glass of ice water. I sipped on it slowly, gripping his arm for support. My hands shook so badly I spilled water down my front.
     "I want the dress off," I said, reaching back for the zipper. It caught on the fabric and I sighed in exasperation.
      "Here," he said, reaching behind me. He was close, and I could feel his warmth on my skin, though he didn't touch me.  He unzipped the dress easily and stepped back, taking my drink.
       I shimmied out of the tight dress as he set the cup on the counter. He yanked up his fresh grey t-shirt from the back of his neck and handed it to me. He must have changed last night. The whole party was a blur.
       I slipped his shirt over my body.  It smelled faintly of his cologne, but it only accented his own lovely scent. It was sweet, but soft. Clean, and intoxicating.
       "Drink some more water," he said. He leaned against the wall, folding his toned arms. His torso was bare, and even in the dark, it was defined. My heart stuttered as I picked up the glass, examining him.
       "What are you staring at?" he asked as I sipped my water.
        "You're kind of," I searched for the word. "Sexy. In a stoic kind of way. You have a handsome and brooding face,"
        "I do not have a brooding face," he scoffed, leading me from the bathroom, and then towards the stairs.
        "You kind of do," I giggled as we assented and approached the bed. "It's cute though."
        "God. I don't think I've been called cute since I was a baby," he shook his head. "You're still drunk."
      "Maybe," I stepped forward, touching his chest. I set the glass of water down on the night stand, and slid my hand up his arm. "But I still know what I like."
        "You like me, huh?" he chuckled, grasping my wrist lightly as my hand came to rest over his heart.
        "I think so," I tilted my head to the side and pressed up against him. His arm encircled me automatically, and he pulled my wrist forward until our lips were only an inch away.
        "What do you like about me?" He breathed, and my knees went weak.
        "I like your touch," I stared at his lips as I spoke, breathing him in. My heart thudded in my chest, and I could feel him breathing steadily against me.
      "What else?" he pressed, tilting his head slightly. His features were dimly illuminated from the moonlight streaming through the window. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
       "Your voice," I said. "Your eyes, your hair, your smile. Your personality. I like the feel of you against me, and the brush of your lips."
        "And what don't you like," his hand slid down my arm, and he pulled me closer.
       "I don't like that you're guarded with me. I don't like how angry you get sometimes. I hate that you're so distant. I hate how you treat me so kindly. I hate how I can't hate you," the words came out in a hazy rush. "I hate that you make me want you. I hate that you're so easy to talk to. I hate that I want to trust you. I hate the way you make me feel. But what I hate the most," I paused, taking a deep breath. "Is that you're making me learn to l-"
      His lips pressed against mine, cutting off my words. "You're too honest when you're drunk, you know," he was breathless. His lips met mine again, and our conversation was forgotten as heat burned through me.
        My heart stuttered and hitched in my chest as I wrapped my arms around his neck. My fingers tangled in his hair as I pressed closer, moving my lips against his. My body burned as he returned my kiss, cupping my face.
He pushed me back abruptly. "Bed time, love," he said, scooping me up into his arms. I giggled as he tossed me lightly onto the mattress. I grabbed his hand before he could go, and pulled him to me a little to roughly.
He wasn't expecting the force of my movements, and he stumbled forward, catching himself on the bed. His hands were on either side of my body. He was close enough that I didn't have to stretch far to find his lips in the dark.
"Okay," he said a moment later, climbing over me and leaning his back against the assorted pillows. I turned and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.  I kissed him again and his arms encircled me, pulling me close.
      I wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. He was warm, and I was completely intoxicated by him. I slid my tongue against his lower lip and he stiffened, pushing me back.
      "No," he said.
      "But why?" I asked. "Why won't you touch me anymore?"
      "Nevaeh," he chuckled, caressing my face lightly. "I may not be the most moral or respectable man in the world, but it would be wrong to sleep with you while you're too intoxicated to know what you're doing."
       "I know what I'm doing," I grumbled as he slid me off of his lap and wrapped his arm around me. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his steady heart beat.
       "If you still want this in the morning, maybe we can work something out," he chuckled. "For now, try to get some sleep."
       "Fine," I yawned, closing my eyes and snuggling closer to him. My muscles still felt somewhat numbed, and I really was exhausted. He began to sing softly, running his fingers up and down my arm. I recognized the lullaby immediately.
       "My mother used to sing that to me when I couldn't sleep," I said, resting my hand on his stomach.
       "I know," he murmured. "Natalia taught it to me."
      He continued to sing quietly, and I quickly began to drift. His melody followed me as I fell asleep, and lulled me into a deep and dreamless unconsciousness.
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