Page 28 of Because of Me

With my own wet cloth, I trace my fingers up her legs until I reach the lacy cuff of her shorts. “Okay?” I repeat. Again, she keeps her face hidden but nods.

Peeling her shorts to the side, I wipe the towel up her thigh, cleaning the dampness between her folds. When she whimpers and begins to shy away, I sit up. My head spins.

“Amira, are you okay?”

Finally, she removes the towel from her face. “Peachy,” she chirps. Her cheeks are a bright pink that spreads down her neck and over her collarbone.

I wonder if she’d taste like peach. I wonder if she’d let me find out. I’m about to ask, to try to talk about the new boundaries we’ve bulldozed our way to, when she laughs. Not a giant ha ha life, but a subtle, satisfied kind of giggle.

“You should probably go clean up,” she says, throwing her towel at me. Her eyes dart down to the very wet and increasingly sticky patch in my crotch. “I’m glad you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

Catching the towel, I back off the bed and head to the bathroom.

“Oh, I did, Cupcake. Very much.”

AMIRA

Ididn’t want to leave the bed. I wanted to curl myself under the blankets, blissful in the memory of whatever it was that happened between me and Noah this morning. I wanted to do it again.

Waking up in Noah’s arms was, I’ll admit, startling at first. My initial thought was that he didn’t stay on his side of the bed. I wanted to berate him for it, maybe tease him a little that he couldn’t stay away after seeing a hint of my skin. But when I shifted my body, trying to get away, I felt his cock against my ass and all was forgotten. Raw need took its place and desire clouded my better judgement.

I could never regret this morning, not when it was so fiercely empowering andgood. To take control was unexpected, to say the least, but using Noah in that way felt so natural I couldn’t resist. The fact it built into one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever experienced is something else entirely. I don’t know if it’s because everything was so focused onmeand my pleasure, or if it was the feeling of being in control. Or fuck if it was just because it was Noah. But I’m starting to worry I’ll never experience a release so life-altering again. And there was something about the way he looked at me after, like I was shining brighter than all the stars in the sky. He looked awestruck and bewildered, and I want to see him look like that again. Cum in his pants and all.

My body protested as finally I crawled out of bed once Noah was out of the bathroom. And again as he got dressed and left the room. Through the door, I heard him greet Ella, brew a quick coffee, and leave the apartment. All before I had dressed myself. I’m not going to pretend that didn’t sting a little.

But isn’t that to be expected? This whole thing, whatever it is, has sped past the boundaries we so loosely set out. Does one morning … together … make us a couple? Probably not. But I have no idea where it actually does leave us. Are we in some kind of fake relationship with real benefits?

Hell, if that’s on the table I definitely wouldn’t say no.

I yank the mixer from its spot under the stove with a forced sigh. Today is technically my day off from working behind the coffee cart at the boutique, but if I don’t make some new iced biscuits, we’ll run out before my shift tomorrow.

“You okay?” Ella calls from the couch. She sits with her laptop open on her legs. Her feet rest on the table in pink fluffy socks and Kitch eyes them off, ready to pounce. She’s crouched on the sunny patch of the coffee table with her bum in the air.

My brow furrows at the sight. The cat is mostly self-sufficient, at least from the less than twenty-four hours I’ve known her. Noah set up her kitty litter behind the doors of our tiny Euro laundry space, with the sliding door propped open just enough for her to squeeze through. Besides that, there’s no obvious sign a cat lives here now. No cat tree by the window or toys spread across the rug. It’s sad, and I hope Noah didn’t feel like he had to leave all her fun things behind when they came here.

Odd, too, that he said she doesn’t warm up to people when all she’s done since being here is follow either me or Ella around. Maybe she just didn’t warm up to Noah. I don’t blame her.

With the heavy appliance in its spot on the bench, I reach under the counter again to grab the disinfectant spray and a disposable wipe. It’s standard food safety, but with a cat now in the apartment, I’m extra cautious to wipe down every surface.

“Can you keep the cat over there?”

Ella leans forward to scoop Kitch into her arms. They settle back down together, and I start pulling ingredients from the pantry.

“I noticed something about you this morning,” Ella says as she walks over once the trays of biscuits are in the oven. Kitch has found a sunny spot by the window and is curled up to eye off the birds that dare perch on the handrail of the balcony. If she had a climbing frame, that’s where it would be. I make a mental note to ask Noah.

“What’s that?” I keep my eye on the measurements as I begin mixing the royal icing.

Leaning across the bench, she tickles my arm.

“I can see your elbows.”

I stop what I’m doing, ready to tell her that no, she can’t. But looking down I realise she can. Instead of my standard long-sleeved tops, this morning I pulled on a T-shirt. The floppy purple sleeves end just after my shoulder.

“Huh?” My brain struggles to compute.

I could try to convince myself it’s just because I’m home, but even with Cassidy I always covered up more than I am now. And I’d known her for years. Ultra-modest clothing was such a norm for me, I don’t even remember buying this shirt. Or the last time I wore it. Briefly, I wonder if it’s something of Cassidy’s that got mixed up in the laundry and left behind. That’s the most logical reasoning, but it still doesn’t explain why I put it on today.

It can’t have had anything to do with my conversation with Noah though, could it? Surely not.

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