His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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————————————— C A M I L A
Thursday, October 22nd starts with Maddie barging into my bedroom at 8:00 AM whining about her powdered blush cracking all over the bathroom floor.
I peel open an eye, cheek pressed into my pillow. Light streams all over my room. Ugh.
"I can't believe this," Maddie groans, clutching the remains of her makeup like it's the first aid kit on the Titanic.
Her voice slices through the remnants of a nightmare I'm better off forgetting.
"It's just blush," I murmur, my voice thick with sleep. I sit up, pushing a tangle of dark hair from my face, and swing my clothed legs over the edge of the bed.
I crashed into bed last night fully clothed, exhausted from another late shift at Fire Base. At least Leo was there to see me working overtime.
"This blush was limited edition!" Maddie wails, stomping a foot. "I don't have one that compliments my tone anymore!"
I stand, stretching my limbs, and mumble, "The fate of the day doesn't hinge on your cheek colour," stepping around her to get a better look at the disaster.
The bathroom looks like a crime scene—if the victim were a compact of blush, and the perpetrator, gravity. I lean against the doorframe, running a hand down my face. "Looks like you got into a fight with a clown."
Maddie huffs. "Not helpful. I have to buy a new one."
The idea of Fox's birthday dinner is already making me nervous.
But my favourite person is going to be there.
Maddie kneels on the linoleum, attempting to salvage her blush with the precision of a surgeon, which she may be one day.
I go back and flop onto my bed. The impact sends a puff of stale air and dust motes swirling around me. Maybe that's my imagination. Maybe I'm sick—lovesick.
Okay, not love. But likesick. Yeah.
Despite the throbbing headache from a night of minimal sleep and maximal work, a grin tugs at my lips. I'm excited to see my favourite person.
After the hand-job disaster at Fire Base a few nights ago, Noah gave me a little space. Did I want space? I have no idea. I got it anyway.
The following night, after a day of long, drawn-out day of classes, work, and a gym session, I went to bed. I tossed and turned, but eventually fell asleep...
...and dreamt of Noah touching me. His hand skimming my thighs, his fingers inside me.
I woke in the dark so flushed I threw off my blankets and gave into the throbbing between my legs.
Orgasms are one thing. Simple, effective, self-sufficient ways to get myself to calm down. But it was much different when I was thinking about him.
When the next evening rolled around, I hopped up on the kitchen counter and finally called him.
