Page 38 of Because of Me

Dropping her shoes to the floor Ella leans her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her fingers. “Do I really have to spell it out for you Noah? I. Got. Laid.” She taps a hand on the table with each word, before slamming both down and clapping as she whoops. “And boy was it good.”

She can’t talk. I’m sure her experience was fine, more than fine, judging by the pale blush spreading over her cheeks and the way she fans herself at the memory. But no matter how good it was I know it had nothing on what Amira and I shared earlier today. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Haven’t stopped wondering when we’ll get another chance to be that untamed. Haven’t stopped imagining what it might be like to feel her come apart from the inside. My balls ache at the thought, and I’ve been sporting a half-chubbed cock ever since.

“I’m sure it was,” I say, doing my best—which from the sound of my voice is very little—to hide the gravelly undertones. My fingers tighten on Amira’s thigh and she pats two quick taps on the back of my hand.

“Anyway, I hope you two lovebirds had fun while I was out.”

Fun is one word for it, although it does little to convey the sheer intensity. My skin still crawls with the memory.

Amira shifts her thighs, pressing them together until my fingers are stuck between her legs. Shock waves jolt up my arm and my ears buzz. Is she remembering just how good it was as well?

“Well,” she says as she jumps from her chair. “Ella, let’s go get dinner.”

“It’s three thirty, Amira?” Ella stands slowly. “And I have to get changed.”

“Get changed then. We need to debrief.”

The timer goes off, and Amira races back to the kitchen to stack the fresh biscuits in containers. She keeps her back to me as she heads for the entry to grab her shoes. Her sudden change in mannerisms is stark and concern creeps along my spine.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

She still doesn’t turn when she answers. “I don’t know.”

AMIRA

The Italian restaurant is humming when we arrive, the remnants of late lunches slowly petering off before the dinner crowd starts to mingle. A young waiter with a buzz cut and a mouth full of braces leads us to a small table on the patio.

He drops menus on the table and turns to leave.

“Wait,” I call before he winds his way back towards the bar. “Can we get a bottle of wine?”

Pulling his notepad from the little pocket on his black apron, the waiter turns back to the table. “What kind?”

“Ahh …” I look to Ella for help but she just shrugs and picks up the drinks menu.

“I don’t like red, does that help?” she says, glancing at the extensive wine list.

I grab the laminated card from her, flipping it in my hands to see if something, anything, grabs my attention.

Alma Estate Rosé.

Noah’s wine. Something swells in my chest, blossoming out. He’s doing so well. Yet he still doubts himself enough that he won’t tell anyone heowns a freaking winery. The fact he doesn’t just work there makes so much sense, now I know. The level of involvement he has seems overly excessive for an events manager, I just never thought to question it.

His grandmother would be proud of him. I’m proud of him. And that thought tingles at my fingertips. It bleeds into the other emotions I’ve been trying to shove into a tiny box and lock away.

“The Alma Rosé, please,” I mutter the words after staring at the menu for far too long. I don’t need to pay an exorbitant amount of money to order a bottle from a restaurant, but I’m doing it anyway. Any chance I get I’ll do whatever I can to support Noah.

The waiter gives a curt nod before turning on his heel.

Ella peruses the food menu, complaining it’s too early for a heavy meal of pasta, but I pay no attention to her. For starters, it’s never too early for a big bowl of the city’s best spaghetti. And for another, my mind is almost completely elsewhere. Stuck playing my day with Noah on repeat.

The way he stared at my body, gazing at me in adoration while he came in my mouth and I came on my hand. His declaration of … not quite love but something that seemed close. The way I panicked when I realised I felt the same.

I’ve never felt this way about someone. Ever.

And like I told Noah, I never imagined I would.

So, it’s scary and unprecedented, and given what my family assumes about our relationship it’s more than a little overwhelming. All Iwantedwas to have one night at a wedding without worrying about the man my father had deemed a suitable son-in-law. I never wanted to fall in love. But fuck, that’s what is happening. Isn’t it?

---