Page 54 of The Girl I Once Loved

“No one,” I whisper.

“Should I call you “little liar” now?”

I can’t concentrate, because it seems like his fingers have some kind of magical power and every pass over my back has my clit throbbing.

“Noah,” I whisper, and I’m trying to warn him away, but it just comes out breathy and embarrassing.

“Noah. That happens to be what I heard you moaning in your room.” His tongue brushes against my chin and a soft whimper slips from my lips.

“Missed you moaning my name, baby,” he purrs.

I yank myself away, walking backwards until I hit the back wall of the kitchen, my breath coming out in gasps.

He crosses his arms over his chest and my gaze gets caught in the way it makes his biceps bulge.

“You know you don’t have to rely on dreams, Sky.” He reaches over to the counter and grabs his mug of coffee. “You can have the real version whenever you want.”

My cheeks heat as memories of my dream flood my thoughts.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he growls, and I whimper, feeling the hardness of him between my legs.

He kisses me, and I don’t have it in me to do anything but fall.

I don’t know how I ended up here.

But I’m so in love with him.

“I’ll pass,” I spit out. “STDs aren’t on my to-do list for my visit to Thatcher’s Bay.”

His mouth tightens and his gaze goes dark and stormy, mirroring the storm raging outside.

“I think, of the two of us, I’m the one you have to worry less about that,” he snaps, stalking away before I can say anything else.

What had he meant by that?

And why do I care?

I suddenly have absolutely no appetite, and I flee back to my room, ready to hide away until my mom gets home from work.

It’s a secret I’ll take to the grave that I get myself off one more time…to Noah’s face once again.

Chapter Twelve

Noah

As I step onto the porch of my childhood home, my lips hike up at the corners when I hear Daisy shouting some incoherent thing in utter glee, her contagious jubilant excitement piquing my interest. What could have possibly happened for her to be so giddy this early in the day?

When I enter the small kitchen, I find Daisy jumping up and down, a red-faced Skylar hiding her embarrassment behind a coffee mug.

“Do I even want to know what all this is about?” I tease, going to the cupboard to grab my own mug.

“My baby sister is a New York Times Best Seller!” Daisy shrieks enthusiastically, pushing her phone right in my face. “Look! See? That’s her right there! That’s Skylar!”

Excited to see this for myself, I swiftly put down my mug on the kitchen counter so I can give Daisy’s phone screen the attention it so richly deserves. But my pride in Skylar’s accomplishment dies an excruciating death when I see that it isn’t her name on the prestigious listing, but some soap opera actress’.

“No, Julia Crawford is a New York Times Best Selling author, not your sister.” I point to the screen before handing the damn thing back to Daisy. “Isn’t that right?”

Skylar’s crimson cheeks turn even redder, only this time it’s not from shy embarrassment but from unadulterated rage.

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