Chapter 133

Hannah & Noah

Hannah’s POV

My leg tensed instinctively as Noah reached for it, a questioning look in his weary eyes. Frowning, he muttered, “Do you want the massage or not?”

Even though I knew I shouldn’t and that it would only make things more complicated, I slowly extended my leg. Noah grabbed my ankle almost impatiently yet with a surprising amount of gentleness and pulled it the rest of the way, setting it on top of his thigh.

The tips of my ears instantly turned red. Whether Noah noticed or not, I wasn’t sure; but he certainly must have noticed when his fingers slowly began working the soft flesh of my calf, considering the fact that my face flushed the deepest crimson known to man.

For a few moments that felt like an eternity, the room was mostly silent—save for the soft sound of music still playing on the record player. My throat bobbed as I swallowed hard and looked away, averting my gaze to the floor, the curtains, the empty champagne flutes scattered around the room.

Anywhere but at him.

Finally, he cleared his throat as he ran his fingers along my leg. “What were you and Drake talking about earlier?” he murmured.

There it was. My leg tensed again, although when I tried to pull away, Noah just tightened his grip and shot me a reproachful look through his lashes.

I sighed and pushed a curl out of my eyes. “Nothing, really. He was just telling me what happened between him and Zoe after that failed date.” A half-lie.

Noah pursed his lips. “I see. And?”

“I guess he’s giving up. He and Zoe aren’t compatible.”

“Are you two more compatible?”

His words made me freeze. For a moment, my eyes remained fixed on the fringe lining the edge of the carpet, too terrified to look at him. When I finally did, though, he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was still on my calf, his fingers still smoothly running up and down my skin and kneading into my sore muscles.

“What are you saying, Noah?”

He merely shrugged. “It’s clear that Drake likes you now more than he does Zoe; maybe you share those feelings.”

“Noah, I—”

“I’m not mad. If you want him, that’s up to you; all I ask is that you wait until we’re divorced to act on anything,” he muttered, his green eyes finally lifting momentarily to meet mine.

I didn’t know what to say; if there were even any words that could be said at that moment, then they died in the back of my throat.

After a long, heated moment, I looked away again and clenched my jaw. “I don’t see Drake like that. You know what my plans are after we get divorced, and he’s not a part of them.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

My throat tightened at that, but I didn’t respond. I wasn’t interested in Drake in a romantic sense, but I also knew that there was no convincing Noah otherwise. Still, his fingers continued to work at the sore muscles of my legs, and I couldn’t help but lean my head back against the chair and shut my eyes.

We stayed like that for a long time, the only sounds between us that of the music once again. Noah’s hands worked skillfully and methodically, trailing heated paths up and down my calves and over the soles of my sore feet.

Then, his fingers began to move upwards—past my calves, skimming over my knees… And they began to push the hem of my skirt up ever so slightly to get at my thighs.

When he began to massage along the soft skin there, my eyes snapped open of their own accord. Flushing once more, I looked down to see that Noah was staring at me—perhaps he had been this whole time.

“Noah…”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Slowly, his fingers slid up beneath my skirt, gently massaging my inner and outer thighs. Despite my best efforts, I felt myself squirm in the chair, an undeniable heat creeping up from where his fingers grazed my skin and radiating throughout my lower body.

“Are you sore here, too?” he murmured.

My face reddened, my teeth instinctively working my lower lip. But I nodded, if only to see how far he would go.

Slowly and gently, but firmly, he began to press into my thighs. I squirmed again, my hips grinding into the soft cushion. Was he going to…?

There was no helping the soft gasp that escaped my lips when it happened—when his fingers moved up, up, no longer even kneading into my muscles, but rather reaching… For my panties. And then, like an electric shock, they pressed into the thin lace.

My mouth hung open, but his gaze didn’t waver. Those deep, dark green eyes of his bored into me as his fingers pressed harder there, deeper until I thought I might lose myself entirely.

And all the while, he never once looked away.

I didn’t know what was happening, why he was doing this. But I knew why I didn’t move away from his touch: I wanted it. This. Him.

But then, it was over just as quickly as it had begun. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled his fingers out from underneath my skirt, slowly raising them to the light. If it was even possible, my face flushed harder upon seeing the slight sheen to his fingertips.

I was wet. Gushing, really.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what Noah might do—leap onto me, maybe? Take me right there, on the living room floor? Or maybe run for the hills?

He didn’t do any of those things. Rather, he simply sighed, wiped his fingers on his trousers, and stood.

“Goodnight,” he muttered before turning on his heel and striding from the room.

…

Noah’s POV

Noah tossed and turned in the guest bed, the springs creaking beneath him. Goddess, he needed to upgrade the bed for this room; it was hardly any better than the sofa in his office.

Sighing, Noah sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood and padded out of the room, shirtless, and made his way toward the kitchen for a glass of water.

“Noah…”

A soft voice caused him to stop in the pitch black hallway. With his heart thundering in his chest, he turned, expecting Hannah to be standing there—a nightmare, maybe? Or perhaps she couldn’t sleep, either?

But Hannah wasn’t there. Rather, the sound was coming from the room next door—their marriage bed, long since turned into her private chambers. The door was cracked open ever so slightly, a dim light spilling out into the hallway.

“Noah…”

Frowning, Noah leaned closer. If she needed him, then she certainly could have called more loudly for him rather than whispering under her breath like a ghost in the night. But as he drew nearer to the door, he began to realize that she wasn’t calling for him at all—not really, anyway.

Carefully so as not to alert her, Noah peered through the cracked door. And his eyes widened when he saw what was inside.

There was Hannah, eyes shut, all but her head and shoulders hidden beneath the thin white sheet. But she wasn’t sleeping, oh no; her hands were moving under the covers.

Her hands were moving…

“Noah,” she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. “Oh…”

Noah stood frozen in the doorway. The bedside lamp, casting a gentle glow onto her slender frame, illuminated the white sheets. From where he stood, he could just make out the silhouette of her nude body, her back arching and her fingers swirling.

Was she…?

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, a gasp not of ecstasy, but of fear escaping her lips.

It was all Noah could do to slip behind the wall before she saw him watching her.