Page 80 of Lift Me Up

So, when I think of what he means by the view, he can mean a variety of things, all to do with my body. It would have made me scoff at one point, to brush the compliment off as if he didn't mean it or that I didn't believe it. But one of the things we promised to work on was that I would be more accepting of his love, and he won’t try to overdo it. He also has to work on a bad habit. You know, to counteract his perfectness. So far, he's failed in doing both, but I can't say I mind all that much.

Much like any large flare, the one that caused all the issues fades away as if it was never here at all, only leaving behind a soft pink scar until the next time it resurfaces. This one healed a lot quicker than normal, and for that I am grateful. Now, with less stress, and all the Noah time with open communication and so much fucking love I could burst, I feel like I'm actually in a good place.

The flares are minimal.

The pain is tolerable.

The loss of Birdie still hits hard sometimes, but it will fade with time, much like the scars.

I look at her pictures often, wonder what she's doing with that family that took her away, and think about what our life could have been. Noah says he's still not sure how that family got Birdie in the first place, because the board had decided to leave her with me until the last minute. He's still looking into that for me. If Birdie were here, she'd be glancing between Noah and me, wondering who would be the first to break eye contact.

It will not be me.

"Oh? You mean this view?" I bend again, watching the way his eyes widen just a little in surprise. He pulls his lip between his teeth to keep from smiling too big, as he takes in my body like a work of art.

I arch my back a bit, fluttering my eyelashes and smiling that knowing smile at him. Come hither, it says. It works. I hear his chair scraping the floor and he's on me faster than I can let out a giddy laugh and wrap my arms around him too. His hands are on my hips, fingers tickling across my skin like little fires, moving back to cup my ass and pull me closer, eliciting a soft moan from my mouth. We've taken things slow, too slow if you ask me. But Noah didn't want to push it, didn’t want to go too fast or hurt me, and while I understood the effort he was putting forth to show he cared, I had hinted multiple times now that I wanted it, and I wanted it as soon as he was ready to give it.

"Shit. Noah," I giggle, my breath catches when his hands slip under to find that I am not wearing underwear. He hums happily in response. I snort and put my hands on his chest, "Hey, we're at work,"

"Work is closed..." He mumbles against my skin, his stubble leaving little licks of stubble burn on my already hot skin.

I bite my lip and hiss when he bites, and his fingers start trailing, "Noah, we can't do this here."

"Where then? I miss you, I saw something I wanted, can't I have it?" He teases, knowing I want this just as much as him.

"I don't know. At home?" I squeak.

"Where's the fun in that? Live a little." He sighs, fingers nimble as he goes down, down, down and finds that delicate, sensitive spot that melts me with a single touch, and I feel my legs fall open on instinct.

I groan against his shoulder, biting at his sweater. "You're terrible. Someone could see us."

"It just looks like we're hugging." He tells me. He pulls out his phone, showing the security cameras on the screen. "See?"

He's right; we're pressed into the farthest corner of the entire place, hidden by bookshelves full of materials to sell and yarn to dye that we are clearly not dyeing. No one would know, no one could see us from the street, there’s no one in the store, the doors are locked. The front lights are out, and our heads are the only thing the cameras can see before it cuts off. I can't fault his logic.

"Fu—" I lose my breath, and my words as my thoughts turn into radio static, his fingers slipping inside me and curling just right. My toes curl with his fingers, and it takes all my resolve to keep from coming right then and there.

"I missed this," Noah says, pulling back to watch the way his fingers undo me, curving inside me just forward enough to rub against my g-spot that he's somehow sex wizard deduced to be the prime spot that makes me a shivering, moaning mess. "You're so wet for me."

"You've been holding back," I chide him, nails digging into his skin just a bit.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay enough to play... We're not exactly the slow and steady type." He chuckles.

Pulling all the way out, despite my protest, Noah brings his fingers up to his mouth. His eyes drop shut, sighing as he tastes me. I watch this man, my legs open and waiting and wanting, practically dripping into my leggings. When his eyes meet mine, they're so dark, so hungry, so needy, I almost die.

"Please make me come."

"That's usually my line..." He says, hand slipping back beneath my waistband, the other holding my hip and body pinning me firmly against the shelves of forgotten yarn behind us. "But I think you need this, right? I think we both need this."

"Yes, Gods, yes." I cry out as his fingers twirl around my clit once, twice, pinching ever so slightly to make me throb between my legs before his ring and middle finger slip inside me again, unrelenting, fucking me until all I can say is 'yes' and 'please' and 'harder.'

Oh god does he ever listen, and his one hand reaches up to pull me into a kiss before it trails down and stays like a phantom necklace on my throat, not squeezing, just taking what it wants, claiming me as his. I think I hear something along the lines of 'good girl' falling from his lips, and my breath hitches, I choke out something that sounds like pleaseyesdontstopI'mcoming, and that's it, his fingers press just right, his hand at my neck makes a final mark, and I am undone. I come on his fingers, on his words of love, and the way he calls me beautiful makes me feel like a thousand suns, only shining for him.

"Jesus, Georgie. You're absolutely soaked." Noah holds out his hand to show me the aftermath, a puddle of me slips down his palm.He is beyond grinning. I cover my face, hiding away so he can't see how positively pink my cheeks are, or how badly I want him. Again.

"Shut up," I whine, peeking through split fingers to watch him wipe his hand on a cleaning towel from the table.

"Thank you." He says, leaning in to kiss me.