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17

CHARLOTTE

Noah’s eyes swim with lust, instilling a sense of pride in me I didn’t think possible. His mouth hovers above my panties, and I know I’m soaked for him. Hopefully he doesn’t mind.

Come on. Be confident.

He sits on his heels, eyes stuck on me as he drags his hands along my sides, resting them on the hem. He dips one hand below the side of the material and grips my thigh with the other. Butterflies swarm in my stomach. His eyes flicker with indecision, and as he’s encouraging confidence, I reach my hand down, dipping below the fabric. Hopefully he likes this.

Noah’s eyes darken as I swipe between my thighs. “Don’t stop touching yourself,” he growls, grabbing the lace and tugging it off my body. This seems like a good sign. Cool air dances across my skin, a reminder of just how much Noah Caruso is seeing of me tonight.

He crawls back between my legs, face hovering over my center, and his hungry gaze connects with mine. He’s so damn hot. Shivering at the attention, I graze my clit with my thumb and whimper. “Fuck, Charlotte.” His eyes drop down to my hand, and he lets out a low growl. “Shit.”

My muscles tense, and I pause my movements. Did I already do something wrong? “What?”

“You’re soaked,” he pants, eyes glued between my legs. “Can’t wait to taste you.” I release a sigh of relief as he nudges my hand to the side and lowers his head directly above my aching center. His eyes connect with mine. “Can I?”

My lip curls upwards at his consistent concern for my consent. “Noah,” I say gently. “You don’t need to keep asking if I’m okay with this. I am so okay with everything happening here.” More than.

He chuckles, eyes darkening. “Message received.”

Without breaking our gaze, he darts out his tongue, swiping across my clit.

A moan escapes me as I grip his hair. “Oh my.” He flicks his tongue against a sensitive spot, and I buck off the bed, unable to relax my anxious body. “Sorry,” I mumble. But how can I relax when Noah Caruso is buried face-deep between my thighs?

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs. “Be wild for me, baby.”

Baby.

There go those damn butterflies again. I try to put them back in their cage—remind them this is fake—but it’s a lost cause as they whirl around my stomach, making it their permanent home.

Noah continues his torment, and his stubbled jaw rubs against my thighs, my body trembling. Is this really happening? My heart pounds so rapidly I worry I’ll go into cardiac arrest. But honestly, death by orgasm seems like the way to go.

A flick of his tongue over my sweet spot, and another wave of pleasure racks through me.

I’ve been missing out.

Jonathan certainly wasn’t afraid to ask for oral, but he rarely went down on me.

Another swipe from Noah’s tongue brings me back to the present as he drags a finger between me. “You taste like heaven, Charlotte.” I squirm beneath him as he slides one finger inside. “Please, don’t ever make me stop.”

His pleading tone heats my arousal up to eleven. Such pretty words. He adds a second finger, and I moan, “Noah.”

He grins lazily with hooded eyes. “That’s it, baby. Say my name.”

“ Noah ,” I whine.

“How do you want me to finish you?”

“What?” I’ve never been asked that before.

“Do you want me to eat this needy little cunt while I finger fuck you?” His smirk is wicked. The perfect golden boy has been replaced by a dirty-talking sex professor, and I am here for it. “Maybe you want me to slide my hard cock deep inside and fuck the word ‘fake’ from your vocabulary?” I squirm beneath his darkened stare as he rubs his thumb over my clit. “Or do you want to be on top, using my body to prove who’s really in charge?”

He’s letting me choose? My mind swirls with indecision. “I like all those options.”

He grips my thigh. “I thought you would.”

“I don’t know how to choose.” He arches his fingers inside of me, and I gasp.

“Pick one and we can do the others later.”

A thrill overtakes me at the promise of this continuing through the night. “Later?”

“Was this supposed to be a one-time lesson?” he teases. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.” He wants to do this again? My hips rotate absentmindedly, grinding against his hand, the friction distracting me. “So what do you want?”

All of Noah’s options are appealing, especially the idea of him edging me till I pass out. But knowing I’m the reason he falls apart would be indisputable evidence that maybe I’m not the problem after all. “I want to be in charge.”

“That’s my sexy girl,” he says, and my face flushes as he removes his fingers. Rolling to his back, he pulls me on top of him in one fell swoop. Hot.

I shimmy my shoulders, shaking off the nerves. You can do this.

Dragging my finger along the hem of his athletic shorts and briefs, I say, “The only problem is these.” Pouting, I force myself into the role of an assertive, not damaged, dom.

He rests his hands under his head. “You’re in charge.”

I crawl off of him, pointing to the floor. “Strip.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, rolling off the bed without hesitation.

He turns to me, our eyes connecting as I sit on my heels. Confidence rings through my mind, being the word of the day, and I pull my shoulders back, puffing out my tits.

His appreciative eyes wander my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he drops his shorts to the floor and kicks them off. My eyes fall to his blue boxer briefs emphasizing his well-endowed package.

“Fuck,” I blurt, unable to formulate a single other thought.

He rubs his palm against his dick, and I fight a satisfied hum, squirming in place. The wetness between my legs intensifies, and I’m dying to see what’s underneath.

“Those too,” I instruct, pointing to his boxers.

Good. I’m doing good.

Noah fights a smile, toying with the waistband, then drops them to the floor, his erection springing free.

My mouth opens and closes as I stare at his delicious dick. It’s long and thick. It’s also extremely hard. His eyes roam my body greedily. He’s hard for me .

He’s turned on by me .

I, Charlotte Benson, got Noah Gabriel Caruso hard and naked.

And now… I’m going to make him come.

“On the bed,” I instruct, and he laughs, following directions.

“What’s so funny?” I ask hesitantly as he returns to his position on his back, hands under his head.

“I love how eager you are for me,” he admits, and I release a sigh of relief. This man is clearly into you. Stop being nervous.

“Well, you know I love a lesson plan,” I tease, reaching toward his hard length and wrapping my fingers around it.

His relaxed expression turns to surprise as I stroke him lightly. His breath staggers, and I bring my mouth inches from his cock, our gaze holding steady. The obvious lust in his eyes encourages a wicked smile across my face. I tighten my grip on his shaft and dart my tongue out, licking the pre-cum off his tip. The sweet taste has my eyes rolling to the back of my head. “ Mmmm .”

“Charlotte,” Noah says breathlessly, a hand sliding into my hair and gripping tightly. “If you make that noise again, there’s a ninety percent chance I’ll come on your face.”

Ignoring his warning, I take his cock in my mouth and suck softly, panting and groaning while he fists my hair. “Char,” he moans, but it sounds more like a plea. Is he really so turned on by me? As good as he tastes, and as much as I love torturing him, I’d really rather he came somewhere other than my face. I release him with a pop and crawl up his body slowly, taking note of every rigid, delicious muscle on the way. I place a leg on each side, allowing my center to rest against his rippled stomach. He grabs my hip with one hand, his thumb finds my clit with the other, and my head drops back.

“You’re better than every fantasy I’ve imagined,” he says, and my gaze snaps to his face for any hint of sincerity. Surely he’s in a lust trance and this is all part of his dirty talk, but damn, does it sound convincing.

He continues rubbing my most sensitive spot, and I whimper, my eyes connecting with his as I grind against his rippled stomach for added friction.

“You’ve thought about me?” I ask, his searing gaze fueling a newfound courage within me.

“I’m always thinking about you,” he says matter-of-factly.

I swallow hard as my chest tightens. “Have you thought about me when you touch yourself?”

“ Soffione.” He chuckles. I struggle for air. “You’re the only one I think about.”

The only one. My lungs collapse. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“About the last time. Every detail.” He increases his pace, pleasure coursing through me, but I don’t dare look away. Whether it’s dirty talk or a lust-fueled admission, I want to experience every second of this with his eyes on me.

“I was in the shower,” he says so quickly, I almost believe him.

“Where?”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Here.”

Is he serious? “Keep going.”

“It was earlier this week,” he murmurs, the low, sexy tone dancing over my skin. “While you were waiting in my bed for me after the welcome dinner.” My lips part at his confession, all the air squeezed from my lungs. “You looked so hot in those little shorts.” I take rapid breaths, the thrill overwhelming me. This doesn’t sound like fiction. “And I knew if I didn’t relieve myself, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate during our talk.” My lips curve upwards, and I grind against him, greedily chasing release.

“Keep going,” I encourage while panting. Turns out I like dirty talk. Who knew?

“I fisted myself as I imagined sliding into you bare. Your tight little pussy getting me off.” He groans, rolling his hips, and his hard cock presses against my ass. “I fantasized about my name falling off your pretty lips as I fucked you from behind.” My inner walls throb, and I slide downward till my center is directly over his cock.

“I thought about waking you up in the middle of the night with my face buried between your pretty thighs.” Please do. I reach down and swipe his dick over my soaked sex. His fiery gaze sears me, and he wraps my hair around his hand. “I imagined making you beg for me.” He tugs my head backwards, and I whimper. My legs spread apart, and I sink onto the tip of his cock. “ Porca troia .” He lets out a heavy breath. “I thought about how when I fuck you, I’m going to make you come so hard, I’ll ruin you for anyone else. I’ll be the only one who gets you to that perfect place with your taste on my tongue and my name on your lips.” His tip stretches my entrance, but I need more. I need him. All of him. Immediately.

Spreading my legs, I sink down, moaning loudly when his tip touches that glorious spot inside me. “ Fuck !”

“That’s it,” he praises. “So good for me.” I move my hips as he continues swiping his thumb against my clit. I lean downward, resting my hands on his tense shoulders, and he keeps his rhythm.

“ Oh my .” I gasp at how incredible he feels. How all of this feels. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually felt desired during sex. He thrusts, and I whine, “ Yes !”

He pulls me to him, our mouths crashing in a searing kiss. Our tongues tangle as my soul leaves my fucking body. He removes his hand from my clit and snakes it around me, pressing against my lower back as he thrusts deeper.

If he thought living in the moment was going to be a problem, he was wrong. Because holy fuck, I’m drowning in this kiss, and I never want to come up for air.

“Char…” His voice comes out a plea.

“Yeah?” I pant into his mouth, hips rotating greedily to find that perfect place.

“We should…” He struggles to breathe as I tremble with need. “I’m gonna…” Another breath hits my lips. “ Cazzo .” Another shaky exhale. “Condom.”

My lust-filled mind sobers slightly. Jonathan and I dated so long, we rarely used protection by the end. We banked on the pull-out method, and while most people wouldn’t condone it, it was effective for us. “Right,” I say, and he thrusts again, knocking the air from my lungs. “Do you have any?” I freeze, wide eyes boring into his. “Please tell me you have one.”

He laughs breathlessly. Thrust. “Don’t worry, baby.” He grips my hip, reaching to the bedside table, and grabs a condom out of the drawer. Relief floods through me. He rolls me on my back, locks eyes, and thrusts again. Heat flushes my body, heartbeat pounding. He brushes a hair behind my ear. “You’re doing great, by the way.” My face lights on fire as he pulls out of me, and I weep at the loss. Within seconds the condom is on, wrapper on the floor, and he’s realigned with my entrance.

“You ready, tesoro ?” he asks, voice low and sinful.

“Please, yes,” I beg, my entire body trembling with need, and he slides back in, stretching until he’s filled me completely. His hands wander every inch of me as he delivers slow, deep thrusts. He reaches between us, and when his thumb touches that sensitive spot, my back arches reflexively. I force it back to the bed.

Jonathan hated when I moved too much. ‘I can’t find my spot if you keep fucking moving.’

I shake away the unwelcome memory.

“Let go,” Noah instructs, bringing me back to the present.

“What?” I ask with furrowed brows.

He thrusts harder, and I dig my fingernails into his shoulder. Soft moans escape me. The orgasm is building, just within reach. So close. But it’s not my turn yet, so I force it down.

“Let. Go.” His voice is commanding yet soft.

“But you haven’t finished yet.”

“Come for me, soffione . Let me hear exactly what I do to you, and I promise I’ll be right behind.” Thrust. A loud moan escapes me as my head falls against the pillow, and I arch my back. “Such a good girl.” He rotates his hips, and I soar higher, white spots blurring my vision. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he praises, and the pleasure hits me in waves so strong my entire body shudders, toes curling as I grip the bed sheets, my inner walls convulsing around him.

A whine escapes my lips as his cock twitches inside me, and we’re engulfed in the inferno. He drops his head in the crook of my neck, heavy breath fanning over my skin. All the energy in my body flutters away with the orgasm, and I sink into the bed, struggling for air.

“Wow,” he pants, having the same issue.

After a minute of labored breathing, I reply, “Double wow.”

He pulls out of me, climbs off the bed, and disappears into the bathroom. I lie there like a puddle of jelly, the sound of the shower starting the only noise louder than my shaky breaths. Noah returns, a satisfied smile on his face. Pride fills my chest. I caused that smile.

“What?” I ask as he walks to me and scoops me into his arms. I squeal, my naked body flush against his. “What are you doing?”

He rests his forehead on mine. “Cleaning you up.” My lips part, body shaking with nerves. This is new. He walks us into the steamy bathroom and sets my feet carefully on the shower floor. After I’ve got my balance, he closes the curtain, towering over me in the small space. The warm water streams down my skin, and I attempt to ignore his proximity. And fail . Every inch of my body is acutely aware that the man who gave me the best orgasm of my life is standing six inches away.

“You did a great job,” he tells me, fingertips grazing my skin, continuing to fuel my recently discovered praise kink.

“Thank you,” I choke out.

“Did you come, or did you fake it?”

My lips part open, mortification washing over me. “I can assure you I didn’t fake it!” A worse realization hits me. “Did you ?”

He grips my hips, eyes narrowing. “Much harder for a guy to fake it.”

Holy shit.

I did it.

I made Noah Caruso come.

He slides his hands into my hair, and while the sex was hot and fun, this feels awfully intimate for being fake.

I shake the thought from my head.

Noah said we can’t think about that stuff during the lessons. And I’m pretty sure he just fucked the word from my vocabulary.

He pulls me towards him, planting a gentle kiss on my lips, and my knees threaten to buckle beneath me, still wobbly from the mind-altering climax.

Damn, does this man know how to kiss.

“See, you were right,” he says. “You just needed to practice your confidence.”

Another rush at his appraisal.

“I think I’m going to need lots and lots of practice,” I say, lips grazing his.

“I can arrange that.” He presses a kiss against my lips, then releases me, grabbing the bottle of soap and squirting some in his hand. He lathers up and has me switch places with him, rubbing his hands along my body. What does this all mean? I force my muscles to relax and enjoy the attention. He takes his time washing every part of me, and I have to stop my knees from buckling as he holds eye contact, gently gliding his hand against the sensitive spot between my legs. He smirks when I shiver and ends my torment by turning me around to wash my hair. He rinses out the shampoo, then brushes through my locks with his fingers, and I let out a soft moan.

He chuckles, squirting soap in his hand and washing himself. “I’m learning all the ways to make you moan tonight, soffione .”

My heart catches in my throat, and I’m unable to conjure up a single reply as my eyes trail his wet, soaped-up body hungrily. He rinses off and has me switch so I’m back under the warm water.

“Wait in here,” he instructs, getting out and drying off. He reaches in and turns off the water, then opens the curtain and holds a towel open for me.

“I can do this myself,” I tease, secretly enjoying the princess treatment.

“I know,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking. “But I want to.”

“Okay.” I grin, stepping out of the shower and onto the towel he placed on the ground, allowing him to wrap the other around my body.

He positions me away from him in front of the mirror, and I wipe it clean so I can see him. He pulls a brush out of the drawer and gently tugs all the knots out of my hair.

“You’re spoiling me,” I say.

“You wanted to practice having good sex,” Noah says, the corner of his mouth quirking. “That means aftercare is required in the lesson plan.”

“Will it be on the final exam, Professor?”

His eyes find mine in the mirror, and he sets the brush on the counter with a tap. “If you keep calling me that, class will run very late tonight, Ms. Benson.” Noah yanks off my towel, and I squeal as he scoops me up cradle style, walking us back into the dimly lit room.

He tosses me onto the bed, his eyes drinking me in as he climbs after me. He lies beside me, and I hook my leg over him, our naked bodies entangling like those little Lego pieces he loves so much.

He tugs the covers over us and runs his hand along my back. Snuggling into him, I allow my body to fully relax for the first time in months.

It’s perfect.

Too perfect.

“Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“When should we remember this isn’t real?” His touch pauses, fingertips tapping on my skin.

“When the sun comes up?” he suggests.

“When the sun comes up,” I agree.

And his hands are back in my hair, his lips on my skin.

* * *

“Stop!”

My eyes pop open, darkness surrounding me.

“Don’t do this,” Noah pleads quietly, and I jump, flicking on the bedside lamp.

Turning back to the bed, I find him, eyes squeezed shut, clutching the comforter.

“Noah,” I say, nudging him, but no response. His grip tightens on the blanket, his breathing heavy.

Is he having a nightmare?

“Noah,” I say louder, and his head moves slightly, eyelids fluttering.

What do I do?

Throw water on him?

Slap him?

Shake him?

I don’t want to startle him or make it worse.

“Please,” Noah begs, his shoulders shaking. “Please stop.”

My pulse pounds. I’ve never seen this side of him. Never seen him be anything other than Superman.

It’s almost a relief.

Guilt settles in my stomach.

Wishing night terrors on someone to prove they have flaws is fucked up.

“Noah,” I say gently, nudging his arm. “Please, wake up.”

His head switches sides. I think we’re getting somewhere. “You’re okay,” I assure him, rubbing his hair. “I’m here.” His shoulders tighten. “It’s just a dream.”

He gasps, bolting up, and I flinch, heart racing in surprise. He takes loud, ragged breaths, eyes finding mine as I do the same.

“Charlotte?” he says, voice trembling, gaze distant.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.” I rub his back, releasing a sigh of relief. He’s awake. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

His eyes are filled with sadness as he flattens a palm over his chest, blowing out a shaky exhale. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

I attempt to return my heart rate to a safe level. That scared the shit out of me. “Does it happen often?”

“No.” He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“I didn’t know how to wake you.” My lips roll together. I felt so helpless. “I just kept talking to you till you woke up. I was worried I’d scare you worse.”

“You did perfect,” he assures me.

I place a palm on his shoulder. He rolls his head to face me, our eyes locking, his expression tormented. “What were you dreaming about?”

He sighs. “ Soffione , I don’t want to pull you into this.”

“Remember what we talked about by the lake? I said if you wanted to talk about anything in the dark with the windows closed, I’m here.” I take his hand and squeeze it. “There’s no sunshine or football.”

“But there is you,” he says with a weak smile.

“Well, yeah, because I’m always here.” My heart constricts at the admission, aching for him to be vulnerable. “Do you want to talk about it?” He nods, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“I’ve wanted to tell you,” he promises me. “I just never knew the right time. And it’s not exactly something I go around broadcasting. You never know who you can trust.”

Swallowing hard, I ask, “And you trust me?”

Noah smiles weakly. “Yeah, baby. I trust you.”

He trusts me.

Relief settles in my chest, and I return a gentle smile, rubbing my thumb against his hand in reassurance. “What was your nightmare about?”

His eyes bore into mine, indecision flickering over his features. “The night I shot my father.”

My eyes widen, and I suck in a breath. That is not what I was expecting. “What?” I sit up, turning to face him, and he does the same. “You… what ?”

He looks away, leaning against the headboard. “I shot my father.” His expression is blank as he stares ahead. Noah is capable of shooting someone? His own father?

“You shot your father?” I repeat. “With… a gun?”

“Yes.”

My brain is running on overdrive. “On purpose?”

Should I be afraid of him?

The thought crushes my heart with guilt. I know this man. If he shot his own father, he must have had a good reason… right?

“Yes.” He swallows hard. “On purpose.”

Did Noah want to kill him?

Did he?

“Is he… dead?” I ask.

“No.” He laughs humorlessly. “Unfortunately not.”

What the fuck is happening right now?

We sit in silence as he formulates his thoughts, and I doubt if I even know the man beside me. Can I trust him ?

“My father was abusive,” Noah finally says, wringing his hands together, and relief swarms me that it was justified. “I got my first scar from him when I was six.” He lifts his arm, showing me a small burn mark on his inner bicep. Horrendous. The relief is quickly replaced by guilt, and a gut-wrenching ache settles inside.

“Your dad did that to you?” I whisper, reaching out and dragging a finger along it. “When you were six ?” My voice cracks, in tandem with my heart, as I remove my hand. How could a father do that? Images of the twins’ smiling faces come to mind, and I want to hurl at the thought of someone hurting them.

“Yes.” He shifts on the bed. “I had forgotten to clean my room, and he thought I should be branded with a permanent reminder.” I place a hand over my mouth. Heart aching. “By the time I was ten, I’d had enough visits to the E.R. it was getting suspicious, so he’d hurt Mom when I misbehaved instead.”

“That’s terrible,” I whisper, blinking back tears.

Of everything I know about Noah, it’s devastating to me he’s been harboring all this under the surface. Alone. Portraying this sunshine persona when inside, his heart must feel black as night.

“He had always hurt her,” he says. “But it got worse after that.” Worse? “When I was fourteen, my parents were arguing in the kitchen. I don’t even remember what it was about. Something inconsequential. He was screaming at her.” His hands tremble, and I attempt to hold them steady although my own are shaking. “I couldn’t take it anymore, so I got between them. We struggled, and he dragged me to my room and threw me against my dresser.” I gasp, waves of anger crashing through me. “When I came to, I ran back out to him holding her by the throat, a gun to her head.” I suck in a breath at the thought of Luna in danger, and Noah swallows hard. “He was going to kill her.” Another tear rolls down his cheek, and I reach up, wiping it away. Moisture wells in my own eyes, and he turns to face me. “Is this too much?”

Shaking my head, I assure him, “I can handle it.”

I have to. For him.

“Are you sure?” He uses his thumb to wipe away my own escaped tear. “Because I know it’s a lot.”

I nod, squeezing his hand. Please, let me in. “Keep going.”

Noah releases a heavy sigh. “Mom knocked the gun out of his hand. I grabbed it in the shuffle, and by the time he’d shaken her off, I had it pointed his way.” I reach out, resting my hand against his face, and he leans into it. “Then I pulled the trigger.”

And he had a good reason. A terrible reason, but a valid one nonetheless.

I understand why he didn’t tell me this before. Why he keeps it locked up tight. Because if someone found this out before knowing him , before really fully knowing who Noah Caruso is to his soul, they might not believe him. Or even worse, be afraid of him.

“I’m so sorry you went through that,” I say, and he nods, placing his hand on mine.

“I only clipped his arm, so there was a lot of blood, but he didn’t die. The cops arrested me, and I was questioned at the station.”

“You were arrested? ”

“Protocol.” He shrugs. “Thankfully, they agreed it was self-defense and released me. After my father recovered, he went to jail. Mom divorced him, and that’s how she met Tony. He was our lawyer. Helped us get restraining orders and all that too.” He rolls his lips together. “I started focusing on football. Mom and I took martial arts classes, and last year we got our concealed weapons permits so no one can ever hurt us like that again.” He drags a hand down his face. “Watching her get hurt and not being able to do anything about it was the hardest part.”

A sharp pang of sadness grips my soul. “I can’t even imagine,” I say, resting a hand on his face.

“My father called me yesterday,” Noah admits, and my brows rise in surprise. “I didn’t answer. But he always tries on my birthday… Maybe that triggered the nightmare.” I wrap my arms around him, holding tight.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“I wanted to tell you.” He looks towards me. “So many times. But I didn’t?—”

“Noah, I’m a politician’s daughter. I get being careful with a story like that. Some people would use it as a rising from the ashes story?—”

“And others would say I have a violent background, paired with a career in an aggressive sport. Then spend pages analyzing what kind of man that makes me.” He sighs, wringing his hands together, and looks at me. “I’ll understand if you don’t wanna do the whole lessons or fake dating thing anymore.”

“What?” I sit up. “Why wouldn’t I want to continue?”

“Like you said, you’re a politician’s daughter.” He shifts in place. “And if we were dating—or fake dating—and that got out, I guess it wouldn’t look good.”

“You think any of that matters to me?” I ask, tilting my head, and his lips press together. “Well, it doesn’t. You matter. And I am not afraid of you or this information.”

His eyes hold mine, and he reaches out, cupping my neck. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Joining me in the dark for a little while.”

“What are friends for?” I say stupidly.

“Right.” He rubs his thumb across my cheek. “What are friends for?”