Page 34 of Five Things I See in You

She doesn’t say anything else. She slides off the counter and wraps her arms tightly around me.

“I’ve soaked your shirt,” I murmur against her neck.

“I can think of a way you could make it up to me. It involves your tongue and a certain part of my body,” she says, and I can feel her smiling against my hair.

She takes my hand and leads me toward the bedroom without another word, kicking off one sandal, then the other, along the way.

***

She carefully removes my glasses and sets them on the nightstand. My blouse gives her more trouble. In her hurry, she struggles with the last two buttons and mutters something so British I have no idea what it means.

“For someone who’s so good with her feet, you’re terrible with buttons,” I say, laughing.

“Shut up, idiot,” she protests, tugging at my sleeve.

My blouse soon lands on the floor, followed by my bra. She pulls her T-shirt over her head, leaving her hair tousled, then lays me back on the bed. She kisses my collarbone and works her way down over my ribs until she reaches my hip, where she pauses to look up at me.

“Are you okay?”

“Better than I’ve been all week,” I admit.

She eases my legs apart and lowers her mouth between them. I close my eyes and clutch the sheets.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, breathless.

She slowly slides a finger inside me, then another, finding the rhythm she knows drives me crazy. Her tongue works my clit until I’m almost there, then she stops. She looks up at me from between my legs and smiles before starting again. When I get close, she stops a second time, still smiling. The third time, after I threaten her with consequences if she does it again, she finally lets me come, my fingers buried in her hair, her name on my lips, my thighs trembling around her head.

“See? A little suffering makes it better,” she teases. “It’s more intense afterward.”

When I can breathe again, I pull her up, kiss her, and roll her beneath me.

“My turn.”

“It’s not about taking turns…”

“Shut up,” I cut her off.

She rocks her hips against my fingers until I shift up, lift one of her legs, and press myself against her. The slick slide of her against me steals my breath. Noa closes her eyes, her mouth falling open on a moan, and in that moment she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

We stay tangled together, breathless, the sheets bunched at the foot of the bed. She traces slow circles on my back with one finger.

“That was a ten,” she whispers before kissing me. “But now you’ll have to work hard to keep that score,” she adds with a laugh.

Outside, the rain has stopped. I hadn’t even noticed it was raining.

Chapter 22

Noa

Callum shows up in Seattle with a weekend bag and without telling anyone. Not even me. He calls from the airport to ask how to get to my apartment, as if it’s perfectly normal to cross the Atlantic and only remember your sister exists when you need her to let you in.

“I came to watch your semifinal. It’s tomorrow, right?” he says when I pick him up.

He has the same look he used to get as a kid, when he’d done something he really wanted to do and then started wondering whether it had been a good idea.

“Can you see the ocean from here?” he asks after dropping his bag in the bedroom of my Belltown apartment.

“A bit of the bay. You have to press right up against the glass and look to the right.”