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We walked up the steps of the empty deck and opened the sliding door, easing quietly into the house. I didn’t want anyone to stop us. The central air kept the house cool as we made our way up to my room. Noa was silent the entire time.
When I closed the bedroom door, she was on me before I could turn on the light. Her anxiousness was in her kiss as she nibbled at my lips in the darkness of my bedroom. I held her too tightly, I was sure. I stepped back to look at her, wishing in that moment more than ever that I could read her mind. Her fingers went to the ends of her top, pulling at the material before I placed my hands over hers and lifted it over her head, tossing it aside.
She inhaled a shaky breath and tugged my shirt off.
I pulled her back into my embrace, and my hands went to her bikini top. Her hair came tumbling down when she released it from the clip. Blue strands that haloed around her face and glowed under the light of the moon. This was what I came back for.
“Dexter,” she whispered.
I removed my hands, worried I was moving too quickly. “Hm?” I worshipped her skin, running my nose across the softness of it, leaving kisses as if she’d disappear as quickly as she appeared.
“I love you,” she said.
This was more than those three words. This was an acquiesce of highest form.
“I’ll always love you,” I murmured against her shoulder as I untied her bikini top, dragging it down her arms, and she stepped back.
In the moonlight, her skin was pale, her hair an aura. She looked like she was there to save me—my own angel. But I’d learned, in the end, we all needed saving.
Her arms remained at her sides and she looked me right in my eyes, terrifying me. When she removed her shorts, I watched every inch of smooth expanse of new skin being revealed. Her thighs, her hips, bikini bottoms, they were all part of this one person who’d stepped into my life, leaving her footprints in my thoughts and her fingerprints on my heart.
I dragged my swim trunks down slowly, still not wanting to move too fast. When I stepped out of them, I looked at her again. There was only excitement in her gaze.
We came together, one moment standing, the next, the soft comforter beneath us. Kisses, shy smiles, quiet laughter—we were a tangle of limbs experimenting with what love gave us.
My hands were in her hair and my lips on her skin.
Her hands were on my back and her eyes on mine.
When my body merged with hers and her sigh broke the silent air, I felt so full. Mylifewas full.
Under the light of the night, Noa gave herself to me in the most complete way.
* * *
“Dexter?”Noa whispered against my chest.
I was asleep, but somehow, I heard her through the haze of it. I opened one eye and peered down at her. “Hm?” I asked, too tired to make anything else come out of my mouth.
“Sometimes I worry.” She sat up a little, the blanket moving down her back and exposing her naked skin. “You’re too perfect. I’m scared to see what I would be like if I didn’t have you anymore.”
I stretched, making a conscious effort to participate in a conversation that clearly meant a lot to Noa. “I’m not perfect, Blue. I’m a guy. I don’t notice little things. Sometimes I don’t listen, and I push you too far. And most of the time I forget to shave because I’m lazy, even though I know you hate it because it scratches you when I kiss you.” I pulled her close, making sure she could hear every word. “But in the most important ways, we fit each other. I love you, so I make that effort. You love me, so you make that effort. It isn’t perfect. It’s just us.”
She laid her head on my chest again and I felt her breathing slow.
I didn’t like Noa worrying, although I could relate. Because, no matter what, I’d always worry about her falling back into her self-destructive ways.
* * *
I’d wokenup to Noa many times. Sometimes she’d simply fallen asleep and I didn’t have the heart to wake her. More often than not, she knew she was sleeping in my bed when we made plans for the day.
Waking up to Noa, on her birthday—with her naked body pressed against mine—was something I’d always remember.
“Happy birthday,” I whispered in her ear.
She groaned, shoving her head under the pillow. “Thanks, Dexter Andrews, man of my dreams,” she said, the words muffled under the pillow.
There were sounds of people in the house and I sat up, looking at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s almost one, Blue. We should probably get up.”
