His hands find my hair, and he seems to enjoy moving his fingers through my slightly-too long cut. His mouth is more aggressive than any girl I’ve kissed, but I guess my kisses are also more aggressive. He sucks on my tongue, sucks on my lips, and my cock expands.
It expands too much, moving from something not on my mind to top of mind.
The door opens.
“Finn?” Coach’s voice is astonished, and I stifle a smile.
Noah acted perfectly.
Noah stops the kiss, and I press my lips to keep from whimpering. His hard chest no longer presses against me, and his hands no longer play with my hair.
Coach is supposed to think we’re madly in love, but I don’t want Noah to think that. I mean, I’m the one who proposed. I remember that much. I’m the one who slid my ringon his finger. I don’t want Noah to think I’m some creepy guy who is so desperate to have him around that I got him drunk, for the second time, and married him when he was too tipsy to understand what he was doing.
A swerve of guilt courses through me, but now is not the time to consider that.
“What are you doing here?” Coach’s gaze bounces around the room.
“I wanted to spend time with my husband.” I take Noah’s hand in mine.
“And doing more than that.” Coach stares at us, baffled.
He’s not the only baffled one.
“I guess you read the news.”
Coach sighs. “What is this about, Finn?”
Noah squeezes my hand, and calmness moves over me. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand how the news got out.”
“You wanted to get married and not have anyone know?” Coach blinks at me.
“Yeah. I mean, that’s why we didn’t invite anyone.”
Coach furrows his brow. He opens and closes his mouth, moving from me to Noah and back again.
I’m glad Noah kissed me. Coach was planning on doing much more yelling at us, and now he can’t. Now he’s confused.
“Do you know how many paparazzi look through marriage certificates in Vegas?” Coach asks. “There’s no more public place to elope.”
Oh.
“I didn’t think about that,”I say. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve had girlfriends, Finn. I’ve met them. I mean, you’ve had a lot.”
Noah whitens, which is the appropriate reaction if he were actually in love with me, and his muscles go stiff.
I nudge his shoulder, hoping to ease some of the tension.
All I want now is for him to be happy. To not have destroyed his life too much.
“I had a lot of dates,” I say. “But only one Noah.”
I smile up at him, and he smiles back.
His eyes are beautiful. I could get lost in his gaze.
Coach clears his throat. “You just met.”
