Page 77 of The Christmas Fix
“Oh my God,” she chanted against his hand as her body trembled and shivered and sparkled through every detonation. “Noah.” She repeated his name over and over again and with one more hungry squeeze, she felt him stiffen and jerk inside her.
He released her mouth and blindly reached for her wrist. Pulling it to his mouth, Noah laid his lips over her tattoo as he came, and Cat felt her heart explode into a thousand shards.
He groaned, a gravel-laden gasp from the gut. Cat watched him, felt him as he came deep inside her, branding her. Using her body to ride out every shuddering burst of his orgasm.
She didn’t know if it was his pleasure-ravaged face or the feel of his cock throbbing in her as it emptied itself into her, but she came again, a softer, more delicate climax that warmed every cell in her body. It felt like coming home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Are you alive?” Cat prodded Noah in the shoulder. She wasn’t sure how long they’d lain like this, tangled together in a heap on the floor. Frankly, she wasn’t sure what year it was. She couldn’t even scroll back through her memory banks to compare any of her earlier sexual escapades to what clearly was the mamma jamma of all orgasmic experiences.
Her body was loose and lazy, her mind virtually blank. Cat was left with only two coherent thoughts:
1.Noah Yates was the king of orgasms.
2.And her dining room table was broken.
One of them, in the throes of passion, had kicked the leg and dislodged it from the table which now leaned precariously without the support.
Noah stirred and shifted the weight that was holding her fast to the floor.
“Mmm?”
Cat poked him in the ribs. “Hello?”
“Think I’m in a sex coma,” Noah muttered against her shoulder.
A sex coma. That was about as perfect a description as possible for their current scenario. Her heart rate had yet to return to normal, still revved from the adrenaline and perhaps from the swirl of fear he’d stirred in her.
Cat liked it fast, fun. No time to think or linger. But he’d taken her beyond that. He’d taken her to a space where all she could do was feel. And the tenderness with which he stared into her eyes, her soul? It was enough to stir some anxiety.
Noah was complicated. He was a father, a reluctant part of the show, and he made her feel things she wasn’t interested in feeling. Cat wasn’t willing to make room for complicated. Noah was a long-term monogamous guy. He studied risk and chose the safest route. He’d expect a relationship. A real one. Not just a “Hey, I’m in town,” booty text.
Noah needed someone who’d be home every day by 5:05 p.m. Someone who would be around on the weekends. Someone to go to the movies with on a Wednesday.
But Cat loved her life, ridiculous schedule and all. She loved the business, the importance and necessity of what she was doing. She loved not having to check in with someone if she was running late. If she wanted to spend an extra weekend on a shoot she didn’t have to confer with anyone else’s schedule. She enjoyed the jet-setting, the frantic rush, the intense time frames of television. Didn’t she?
God, a handful of orgasms, and she was already anticipating a marriage proposal from the man.She was short on sleep and brain cells. Could sex kill brain cells?
Cat scrambled for an excuse to send him home, to give herself a little distance to find her balance. But the sex coma left her brain mushy.
“Want some water?” Noah murmured, lips brushed the tender skin of her neck.
“Yeah,” she croaked. Anything to get his hot skin off of hers.
Noah pushed himself up, and Cat pretended not to notice the bulge of biceps, the ridges of abs. Stripping off the pants bunched around his feet, Noah padded naked to her miniscule kitchen and opened the fridge. “Jesus, Cat,” he called. “You’ve got three bottles of water, half a green juice, and some wilted lettuce in here. How do you survive?”
“I do just fine. Water me,” she ordered, working her way into a sitting position. She grabbed a shirt off the floor and dragged it on over her head. If she wasn’t naked, there wouldn’t be a reason for him to stick around. She stumbled to the couch and flopped down on the cushion.
His ass was a fine specimen of male asses, she thought, cocking her head to admire its firm symmetry. She’d admired it before in Dockers and jeans, but it was even more spectacular without any adornments.
“Do you work out?” she asked before her brain caught up with her mouth.
Noah returned to her, water bottles in hand, and gracefully sank onto the cushion next to her. He opened a bottle and handed it to her. “I go to the gym,” he said, guzzling his own water.
“It shows,” Cat said, letting her gaze appreciatively wander the rest of his body. She liked that he was confident enough to not immediately reach for his pants in the corner or his underwear, wherever the hell they were.
“We’re making small talk now?” Noah asked, eyeing her. “After that?”
