Page 81 of Brim Over Boot
I shrug, trying to pretend my heart isn’t attempting to beat right out of my chest. I shouldn’t want Noah forcing me to my knees and feeding me his cock. Butfuck, I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve jerked off to the thought more times than I can count.
That and what he might feel like in my ass.
If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be desperate to know what it’s like to be dicked, let alone by the man I’ve hated with a fiery passion for a decade and a half, I’d have laughed. Hard.
I guess desperation makes fools of us all.
I try to drum up some of that fiery hate now. Something to remind me why it’s a bad idea to provoke this man wrapped around my back. But all I feel is frustration that we’re not in his barn right now.
Is this what it feels like when people fall for their captors? Have I been unwittingly ensnared by Noah King?
I let out a sigh as I come to terms with the fact that this isn’t Noah’s fault at all. I can’t blame him, much as I want to. Even before I understood these urges, I couldn’t let it go, could I? I kept pushing, pushing,pushing.
Noah just gave me the tiniest tug to drag me over the edge.
“All right?” the man asks, probably having heard the audible evidence of my internal crisis. Although is crisis the right word? More like awareness.
“Fine,” I mutter.
Nothing like realizing I’ve been subconsciously craving my archnemesis’s dick. Not any guy’s.His. For whatever fucking reason, it’s him and has been from the start.
At least my boner is gone, withered up and died right alongside whatever leftover denial I’d been carrying.
I’m attracted to Noah King.
Want him to do unspeakable things to me.
I get off on this man treating me with kindness under the guise of animosity or whatever it is still thriving between us.
And, maybe most shameful of all, I don’t want it to stop.
Is it so bad? Letting this man I harbor such conflicting emotions for take what he wants from me when all I want is for him to take it, too?
Would anyone understand it? Do I?
“We’re here,” Noah says, cutting through my thoughts.
I nod, pulling Clementine to a stop. This time, we both get down, and I’m grateful for the reprieve from my own head, as well as Noah’s proximity. We ascend the wooden steps, coming to a stop at the overlook built onto the side of the short, yet steep, mountain.
“Wow,” Noah says, looking out over the field full of wildflowers between the shadows of two peaks on either side. The ground is filled with color. A beautiful, undisturbed microcosm.
“The sun hits it just right for a couple hours every day,” I tell him quietly, not wanting to disturb the still air. “It’s why so many flowers are able to grow here.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, staring intently.
My eyes trail down the ink on his arms, and I recall the unfinished metal crown inside his barn. It’d be so easy to ask him about it. The flowers. Why they’re clearly so important to him.
But I can’t get the words to leave my mouth.
I head over to the wooden box nearby and lift the lid. It’s filled with more clues. I pull out two but open one.
“Another location,” I tell Noah.
He lets out a soft sigh before turning from the railing. “We should probably get moving then, huh?”
I nod, even as I want to tell him it’s okay if he’d rather stay a while. But why would I? We’re competing in a time-sensitive competition. Of course we shouldn’t linger.
“Sure,” I say, handing Noah his scroll. “We’re heading north.”
