Page 26 of Because of Me

The nickname breaks through the tension and for the first time since I stripped off half my layers, I feel like I can breathe. I race to the bed, flicking the lamp off and scooping myself under the blankets.

“You okay?” Noah asks.

My chest still heaves with anticipation, but I nod. “Mmhhmm.”

Noah settles back into the bed and finds my hand with his own. He squeezes it, twice, then holds it as his breaths begin to slow.

“Noah?” I whisper when I’m almost certain he’s already asleep. I hate having to ask him for more when he’s doing so much already.

He hums in response, and I hear the ruffle of his pillow like maybe he turned his head.

I keep my voice low, unsure how far away from mine his face is. “Another cousin is getting married.”

“You need me to keep being your boyfriend, Cupcake?” he mumbles, half asleep.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” It’s barely a word, more a yawn, and I’ll have to ask him again when he’s actually awake, but knowing I have him by my side makes everything feel a little lighter.

“Thanks,” I whisper before snuggling my head against my pillow.

Noah takes a deep breath, settling back into sleep.

My own dreams take an age to come, but I realise, right before I doze off, that I never pulled my hand away.

NOAH

On any other morning, I would wake up to the sound of my alarm. I’d hit snooze half a dozen times before finally giving up and succumbing to the cold truth that it’s well and truly past the time I need to get up. I’d race through my too big house, brewing a coffee straight into my travel mug while brushing my teeth and doing up the black work pants that still itch my thighs.

Not today, though.

Today, I wake up peaceful and warm in a bed that is not my own. I don’t need to open my eyes to appreciate the soft curves of the body pressed against mine.

Amira’s perfectly round ass is pressed snugly against my waist. Her back pressed firmly against my chest, her near-black hair tangled on the pillow near my face. She smells like the treats she’s always making, sweet and fruity, with a rich hint of perfectly brewed coffee. For a moment, I soak it all in. How … perfect … it feels to wake up beside her. For a moment, I forget this is all for show.

I forget how badly I wish it wasn’t. All for show that is. And for the first time since agreeing to this farce, I wonder how exactly I planned to turn this into something real.

Amira and I shared something last night. Something far more intimate than the way our bodies are currently entwined. The lines surrounding our relationship agreement blurred and twisted, and I’m no longer sure what side we’re on.

I should get up. I should peel myself away from Amira, ignoring the throbbing in my cock, and let her sleep the rest of the morning away. I should remove myself from the room before my alarm wakes her up. But I can’t. I can’t get over how tightly Amira holds my fingers in her own against her chest. The way her legs are wrapped between mine. The way her body is pressed against me, everywhere, in all the right ways.

The way my dick is nestled between her thighs.

I never want to leave. But I should. Right?

Regardless, her breathy moan is a siren song I cannot resist.

She shuffles her body into mine, creating friction along my shaft that does nothing to sedate the sheer need and desire coursing through me. My balls swell and my cock hardens against the thin fabric of her barely there shorts.

The angelic vision of her changing into them has been seared into my soul. Her eyes were laced with equal parts fear and trust, and I couldn’t have looked away if I wanted to. The way she watched me so intently as she changed her pants lit a fire so deep inside me. She trusted me wholeheartedly, and I will do anything to show her I deserve it.

She moans again, rubbing her ass against my cock. Her fingers are still locked through mine, and she drags my hand down with hers until she is toying with the waistband of her shorts.

Is she even awake?

Without wanting to disturb her, I unlace our fingers. I keep the weight of my arm draped over her and inch my hand away from hers. But she shifts her grip, grabbing my hand and holding tight. She doesn’t dip our hands into her shorts, but holds firm on their position right above the waistband.

Amira murmurs, and I wish I knew what she said but I doubt she formed words in her dream state.

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