“If I get wet, you get wet, too,” he said as I landed on him. I tried to brace myself above him, but he held me down. My thighs were on either side of his, our bodies flushed and soaked. My damp chest pressed to his, and a wet tendril of dark hair hung over his forehead. I wanted to nuzzle it with my nose. My nipples tightened under my top, and I just hoped he couldn’t feel them.
“We’re flooding the bathroom,” I said, my voice breathier than I would’ve liked.
Noah shrugged. “Damage is already done.”
My heartrate picked up when his hands travelled down my hips. I loved the feel of his touch. I wanted his heat everywhere. The spot between my legs pulsed when his fingertips brushed against the base of my spine.
Noah leaned forward a little, bringing his mouth to my ear. “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?”
Do it.
I shook my head, fear and desire swarming within me. A low, masculine sound emanated from him as he reached up and wrapped his fingers around my ponytail. He yanked down on it hard, and my chin jutted out. I gasped when he lightly nipped my jaw, flurries of butterflies flooding my belly.
I stared down at him, and he stared back at me. We were locked in a stand-off, neither one of us prepared to look away first.
“I have nightmares all the time,” I blurted.
Noah’s brows drew together. I had no idea what pulled the confession out of me, but I’d essentially killed the sexy moment. Maybe it was the water. Or maybe it was his closeness. All I knew was I felt compelled to say the words.
“What are they about?” he asked softly, his fingers drawing hypnotic circles on my back. Okay, so the sexy moment wasn’t dead entirely.
“Drowning,” I answered in a quiet voice. “Drowning out in the sea. Drowning in rooms inside this house. And shadows. There are always shadows,” I whispered, suddenly realising why Vee’s talk of dark shadows affected me so much. I’d been having nightmares about them for weeks. “I’m scared it’s a premonition.”
“Of what?”
“Of how I’m going to die.” The terror I’d been pushing away all this time clutched me.
“Dreams are usually a manifestation of a waking fear,” Noah said, his voice soothing. “They aren’t necessarily premonitions.”
“I know that, but I still hate them. When I wake up, I can’t move or speak. It only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like much longer.”
“That sounds like—”
“Sleep paralysis, I know. I’ve been reading about it. People usually experience it when they’re suffering from anxiety or stress, which is the story of my life really.”
Noah didn’t say anything, but his eyes had that wise, faraway look, the one that made him seem hundreds of years old. When he spoke, his voice sounded miles away. “I have bad dreams, too.”
Something jolted inside me. “What are yours about?”
“Being locked in rooms I can’t get out of. Being endlessly beaten with no escape from the pain. Being cast out and shunned for something I can’t do anything to change.”
What he said made my chest ache for him. “Your bad dreams sound a lot worse than my bad dreams.”
“Life is a bad dream we can’t wake up from,” Noah said, and a memory sparked.
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream,” I quoted.
Noah lifted his hand to stroke my cheek. “A fellow Poe fan,” he murmured with a fond smile.
I flushed at his tenderness, heart racing. “I don’t even remember how I know that. I must’ve read it somewhere.”
“The brain locks things away sometimes, and we forget about them until one day we’re reminded.”
A chill crept over me as I stared at him. “You said dreams come from a waking fear. Do you fear the things you dream about?”
“I fear a lot of things, Estella. But I also fear myself. Sometimes I …” he trailed off, looking away a moment before bringing his eyes back to me. “Sometimes I’m scared that the things I believe are righteous are in fact irrational, but my head is too fucked to know the difference.”
He seemed so incredibly vulnerable right then that my heart opened up to him. “You can always ask me. I have a good inner dial for knowing the difference between right and wrong.” How could I not when my dad spoke to me about morality, about good and evil and the teachings of the Bible since I was a small child?
“I don’t doubt that, but you won’t always be there,” Noah whispered.
“Who says I won’t?” I whispered back, and something blazed in his eyes.
I shivered then, feeling way too emotionally exposed. Had I just said I’d always be there for him? Oh man, that was embarrassing. I clammed up, pulling away and refusing to look him in the eye. “We should get out now. The water is starting to get cold.”