Chapter 111 Chapter One Hundred And Eleven
“This might sting a little,” I warned, dampening a cotton swab with antiseptic.
I started cleaning the cut on his cheekbone, working as carefully as I could so it wouldn’t hurt too much.
Noah flinched at one point, when I dabbed at a nasty-looking cut on his forehead.
“Sit still,” I murmured under my breath.
“I am sitting still.”
“You flinched.” I dabbed a little more carefully, trying to be gentle. “It doesn’t hurt that bad, does it?”
“How would you know?” he laughed. “You’re not the one sitting here with a black eye.”
I sat back slightly to assess the damage, tilting my head so I could take a better look.
“You know, you’re right,” I nodded, trying to keep my face straight and not burst out laughing, “You do look a little bit like a raccoon.”
Noah stopped laughing immediately and his voice went flat. He swatted my hand away. “Alright, that’s enough.”
I kissed his cheek quickly, laughing into his skin. “Sorry, sorry, I meant a totally handsome raccoon. The hottest raccoon in all of Westbrook.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smirk. “Damn right.”
I worked in silence for a few minutes, cleaning each injury and applying antibacterial ointment where needed. All the while his eyes never left my face, watching me with intense laser focus.
“Almost done…” Finally, I reached for the last butterfly bandage, the one for the cut on his forehead, and I was just about to apply it when Noah’s hand shot up, catching my wrist.
“You told Jace you loved me.”
I blinked, my hand going still in the air.
My throat went dry for a second before I managed, “Yeah. I did.”
“Did you mean it?”
I cleared my throat awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but his eyes. “I mean, that’s kind of the plan, right? We pretend to date and make him jealous. Your big, clever revenge plot.”
Noah’s grip on my wrist tightened slightly, it wasn’t painful at all, just insistent.
“I’m not talking about the plan. I don’t give a shit about the plan right now.” His voice had gone low and rough. “I’m talking about you. Did you mean it when you told him you loved me?”
He took the bandage from my other hand and tossed it aside, into the corner of the room where it rolled under a table.
Then his hands were on my waist, lifting me up off my knees as though I weighed absolutely nothing.
I gasped as he repositioned me, pulling me onto the bed, onto his lap, until I was straddling him, facing him, my hands braced on his shoulders so I could balance myself.
“Noah…” I whispered.
“Answer the question, Lena.” His hand came up to cup my chin, tilting my face so I had to look at him. “Did you mean it?”
We were so close, only a hair’s breadth apart.
His eyes dropped from mine to my lips, then back up, and his eyes were sharp and heated, full of something I was afraid to name.
My heart hammered against my ribs with every second that passed, I tried to breathe but the air wouldn’t come.
Back in the cell with Jace, I’d felt alive. Reckless and burning, blinded by whatever mess of emotions had been churning in my heart.
But this, this felt different. My mind was crystal clear. And I knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that I was standing at the very edge of love, about to fall.
“You’re making things a lot more difficult than they have to be,” I whispered.
“Then let me make it simple for you.”
Noah’s hand tangled in my hair, his lips pressing a kiss to my temple, to my forehead, my cheeks, my chin.
“Close your eyes, Lena.”
I shouldn’t, I knew I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t help myself.
My eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, there was nothing but hot anticipation. His breath warm against my lips, his hands steady on my back tracing the skin underneath my dress, the thundering of my own heartbeat.
And then he kissed me.
It felt soft at first, slowly questioning and gentle, giving me every opportunity to pull away.
When I didn’t, when instead I leaned into him, he deepened it.
His hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head. The other tightened on my waist, pulling me flush against him till I was practically grinding in his groin.
This kiss was different from the ones in the gym, different too from the one at the party.
This one felt so much more real, as though he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into it, all the care and frustration and want that he’d been holding back too long.
I kissed him back just as desperately, my hands sliding from his shoulders to cup his face, being careful of his injuries even as I lost myself in the feeling of his mouth on mine.
We finally broke apart when it got too much, when I could no longer catch my breath.
“That,” he whispered against my lips, his hand gripping the back of my neck, “is how I feel about you.”
I opened my eyes to find him already looking at me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before.
“Noah…”
“You don’t have to say anything right now.” His thumb traced along my jaw. “I just needed you to know. This stopped being fake for me a long time ago.”
I bit my lip, going still with tension, unable to look away from his perfect, perfect face.
Because somewhere along the way, between the transformation and the cheerleading and the revenge plot, it had stopped being fake for me too.
I just didn’t know which boy I’d stopped pretending for.