Intimate Friends (3 page)

"Em," he groaned, but it was more like a choked sigh, and she pushed his boxers down slowly with one hand, maintaining her grip on him, while he slid her panties off in a fevered daze. He felt himself dripping with excitement, because this was
Emma
, and he loved her, and he wanted her, more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything in his life.
And he had to kiss her, so he shifted her, maybe a bit too roughly, and took her mouth with his, meeting her tongue with heat and passion and need, biting at her lips, and letting out a shocked grunt when she bit back. She moaned his name again, and oh
Jesus
...he was so hard that he was worried he would come right there, right then, in her hand, and he couldn't...

"Em,
wait,"
he cried hoarsely. She stopped, stunned, and looked at him with huge, surprised eyes.

"What?" she whispered . She seemed confused, and breathless.

"I...I'm sorry," he gasped. "I just...I didn't want to...ohmygodyou'resohot..." The words tumbled from his lips.

She climbed back up his body, pressed herself against his chest, and whispered hotly in his ear. "What you just said...say it again."

"You...are so...hot," he growled slowly in her ear, and he grabbed her hips and pressed her firmly against him, running his hand over her, biting and sucking the sensitive skin on her neck, her shoulder, her breasts. He laid her back and ran his hand down, between her legs, because he couldn't wait anymore, and she was soaking wet. Noah slipped a finger inside her and felt her drip down his hand, and it made him dizzy with desire.

"Noah," she groaned, pumping her hips against his hand. He moved down her body, his finger still deep inside her, licking a trail down her stomach, and lower, lower still, until he was kissing the soft, warm skin of her inner thighs. She wasn't stopping him, oh my god, she most definitely was not stopping him, and he could taste her already, her wetness, on his hand, on her own thighs, and he moved up and tongued her once, gently, and felt her gasp run through her entire body.

"Emma, oh my god you taste so good
...
so good," he murmured, and his tongue teased her, giving her time to get used to this new feel, this new connection. He let his eyes roam up, and saw that she had covered her cheeks with her hands, and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, but her hips still beckoned him, her legs spread wide, so he continued his explorations, his finger still deep inside her, lapping slowly, softly, until he flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue, once, and her hips jerked so hard she almost broke his nose.

"Oh!" she chirped, high and hard, and he did it again, then again, then planted his lips and kissed her, and sucked lightly. God he couldn't believe he was doing this, and he'd wanted to for so long, and she was so beautiful, and tasted so sweet, and her cries made him so hard that he had to reach down and grab himself, squeeze tightly, slow down, slow down...

"Noah...Noah...
Noah
," Emma chanted, almost incoherently. He lifted his head because now her hand was anchored tightly in his curls and she was pulling, hard
,
and
ouch,
holy crap!

"C'mere," she groaned, and when he hesitated she ordered c
'mere!,
and then he moved, up her body, slipping his finger from her, her hand still painfully stuck in his hair. He leaned over and kissed her, and he felt her body tense with shock, and he knew why, because his mouth and lips and chin were covered with her, slick and wet. But he kept on kissing her, trying to distract her from her squeamishness, because the thought of sinking his tongue in her mouth, covered with her juices, was just...ohmygod, and he was being selfish, yes, definitely very selfish, but she had not asked him to stop. Of course he would stop if she asked, and in fact he kept waiting for her to, but she never did.

"Please," she murmured against his lips, grabbing blindly at his bare hips, clamping him against her with her knees. "God, oh god,
please,"
she cried, and she balled up her fist and hit his arm in frustration.

"Please what?" he asked in a low voice. She was so sexy, so wet and ready for him, and it was maddening, really, because under all the lust and heat and alcohol he felt such a rush of love, and tenderness. She was so...
cute...
all worked up and frustrated, like a kid who wants something, both passionately and innocently, and then all his selfishness went away, and he just wanted to please her.

She knew what she wanted, of course, they both knew it, both wanted it, but for some reason she couldn't, wouldn't say it.

"Emma, do you want me inside you? Do you want me to fuck you?" He panted hotly in her ear, and she nodded her head eagerly against his cheek. He grabbed her hand and wrapped it firmly around his cock, and she moved him quickly to her, against her wet lips, and guided him in. He sunk inside her slowly, inch by inch, until his teeth hurt from clenching them so tightly. When he was finally buried in her, he began to rock slowly, enveloping her, his chest never losing contact with hers, his hips rubbing against her rhythmically. And it felt good, and she felt good, and he never wanted to come. He just wanted to rock like this forever, with Emma in his arms, so he could give her pleasure, and receive from her in return.

But soon he felt her stomach tense under his, and felt her knees inch up his sides, and heard her hold her breath in. He whispered "breathe" in her ear, and ground himself deep in her, rubbing against her, firm and steady, until she came. Oh shit she came so hard, and her cries made him whimper in answer to her release, because she was so beautiful when she came. It made him pump into her, desperately now, wincing with need, kissing her hungrily, greedy again, until he spilled into her, groaning so loudly that his voice broke in the quiet of the bedroom.

He caught his breath, and flipped to his back, and cradled her against his chest, her head resting heavily on his shoulder, one leg slung lazily over his thighs. And suddenly he had a million things to tell her...how he loved her, needed her, how the thought of her leaving next month made him sick with dread...but she was gone, totally asleep, one of those deep sleeps after alcohol and sex where your body is heavy, rubbery, boneless. So he covered her gently with the bedspread they'd nearly kicked off the mattress, and gazed at her face, so dear to him now that he couldn't imagine not knowing it, not knowing her, not loving her. He hugged her close, and heard her hiccup. It was cute, it made him grin, and then he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Five

Emma walked slowly from her car, squinting painfully against the morning sun as she stumbled over a dip in the parking lot. She was late (as usual), hungover, and thoroughly freaked out. If she wasn't giving an exam in her British Lit class, she would have called in sick. As it was, she was present in body only.

Would Noah be waiting for her at her office door? What in the hell was she supposed to say to him? What in the hell had happened? She'd awakened at 1:00 am the night before, and he was gone. If it hadn't been for the smell of sex surrounding her, and the delicious soreness between her legs, she would have sworn it was all a dream.
And what a dream.
She had never, ever felt like that with another man. Was it the alcohol? Surely not--she'd had sex after a few drinks before, but never, ever like this.

Was it
Noah
?

God, this could not be happening. He was her best friend. Her
Best.
Friend
. How could she ruin that by sleeping with him? Why did she have to screw up the one decent relationship in her life?

As she entered the building and rounded the corner to her office, she was both relieved and disappointed to see that the hallway was empty. She sighed heavily, and jammed her key in her office door. She was late, very late, so there was no time to try to analyse whether she was happy to avoid him or not. She dumped her purse, grabbed her papers and books, and scurried down the hall towards her classroom. One quick stop in the break room to refresh her coffee.

Noah. Standing by the coffeepot. He knew she'd stop there if he didn't deliver a fresh cup to her office.

“Noah,” she said dumbly, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. “Morning.”

“Morning.” His voice was soft, and he looked wary. His glasses slipped down his nose, but he didn't even bother to push them up. “How are you feeling?”

“Umm...like I was hit by a truck?” She brushed past him to grab the coffeepot off the counter. She filled her cup, sloshing a bit in her haste. He grabbed a paper towel and handed it to her, never wavering in his gaze. She wiped away the spill, and then took a deep, fortifying breath before facing the proverbial music.

“Look, I know this is awkward. We can do a post-mortem after school, or maybe at lunch...no, no, wait, not lunch, I've got--”

“A dentist's appointment,” he finished. She nodded, then closed her eyes briefly. This was just weird. The guy who made her come three times last night should not know this much about her oral hygiene.

“Emma,” he moved closer, and she felt her heart begin to flutter, from nerves, from embarrassment, from the memory of what they'd done the night before. He reached to brush her hair behind her ear. The touch of his fingers against her cheek sparked the memory of those same fingers, teasing her nipples, grazing down her ribcage, slipping between her legs, then reaching up to paint her mouth with her own slick wetness. Holy crap. She needed to go to class.

“Noah, I've got to go. So do you. We're late.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay.” He squeezed her shoulder gently, then leaned forward until his lips were almost touching her ear. “But for what it's worth...I'm not sorry.” And then he turned his head and kissed her. It was a dirty trick, right in the middle of the break room, where anyone could walk in. But she couldn't help kissing him back, smelling his scent, familiar as always, but now somehow new--it made her shiver. But when she finally leaned into him, to steady herself, to let him steady her, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and moved her back, just an inch. Then he placed one final, close-mouthed kiss on her primed lips. “Have a nice class, Emma.” Then he turned and walked away. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Then opened and closed it again. Giving up, she crossed her arms, rubbing the skin that Noah had just touched. And she was ten minutes late for class.

****

Noah slung his briefcase over his shoulder as he closed and locked his office door, happy to be leaving. It had been a long, tense day, but he was free this afternoon—no math club, no papers to grade, no after-school meetings. He couldn't wait to get to Emma's office, drag her away from whatever packing or organizing project she was no doubt enmeshed in, and talk. Really talk. He was going to tell her how he felt, tell her he loved her, beg her not to go to London, and then...well, worst case scenario, she freaked out and their friendship was over. But he couldn't go on like this. Last night wasn't supposed to happen, but it did, and dammit, he couldn't go back to being just friends now.

As he approached her office, his steps faltered, and he stopped suddenly. At the end of the deserted hall of lockers, he saw Emma, talking earnestly with a student. He couldn't remember her name—
Katy? Kristin?
--she wasn't in his class, but she looked familiar…awkward, tall, braces…definitely not one of the popular kids. She was crying, and Emma was talking softly, a bottle of cleanser in her hands, a roll of paper towels tucked under her arm. A second look revealed that her locker had been vandalized—he saw the scrawled words and crude pictures across the metal door, and as Emma continued talking, she began spraying the locker with cleanser, unrolling paper towels and scrubbing vigorously.

Noah hesitated--his first instinct was to go and help, but he didn't want to intrude…didn't want the girl to be further embarrassed, having to explain her predicament to yet another person. So he stepped back a bit, in the shadows of the hallway.

He grinned to himself when he realized that Emma was still talking, in that way she had when she was upset or nervous—ironically, she tended to talk the most when she was at a loss for what to say. She kneeled down and put the spray bottle on the floor grasped the paper towels in both hands, and leaned into the locker, scrubbing with all her might. After a few seconds, she pulled back and gave the locker a little
kick
of frustration, then yelped "owww," and giggled briefly. She said something to the girl, and they both laughed, the girl wiping her eyes quickly with the cuffs of her sweater. He saw Emma reach over and gently flip the girl's long, curly hair behind her shoulder and hand her the roll of paper towels. More spray, more towels, more scrubbing, a few more giggles.

Noah closed his eyes, leaning back against the cold metal of the lockers behind him.
God, he loved her so much.
And all his courage and determination melted away, and he cut through the gym, out to his car, and left, like a coward.

Chapter Six

Emma heard the phone ring and closed her book, puzzled. No one would call her this late in the evening except Noah, and he was in Houston with the academic decathlon team. He wouldn't call her this late, would he? Unless something was wrong...

Since their telephone conversation on Monday evening, things had been tense, but friendly. Emma had apologized for getting drunk and jumping him, and Noah had apologized for letting himself get jumped. She was scared to death that their play date in bed would ruin their friendship, but was hopeful that they could move past it. Moving past it was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated, however, because every time she saw Noah in the hall, she imagined him naked, and sweaty, and rolling around on the rumpled sheets of her bed.