by Ranae Rose
“Damn. You’re this sick from eating rice that touched a dirty spoon?”
“Yes.” She gave him an icy look, as if daring him to refute the legitimacy of her claim.
As if he could do that after what he’d just overheard.
“That sucks. How long are you going to be sick for?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been sick to my stomach since last night. Hopefully that’ll pass by the end of the day. There might be other problems, though…” A little dent appeared in her lower lip, alerting him to the fact that she was biting it from the inside.
She was worried. The realization increased his own anxiety. What kind of “problems”, exactly, might she be in for? “You definitely need to go home.”
She glared at him. “Look, you know I need the money.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but not quite soft. “So stop trying to send me home. If my performance today is sub-standard, fine – say the word and I’ll leave. But unless you think I’m slacking, don’t.”
He tried hard not to look sympathetic. “Fine. But if you change your mind—”
“I’ll be fine. I’m only here a few hours, anyway.”
Like he needed her to remind him of that. Twenty hours a week was all he got with her now – a fact he was perpetually aware of, and frankly, fucking tired of. “Come home with me when your shift ends,” he said.
“What?” Her eyes widened, and for a moment, all the anger and embarrassment was smoothed from her face, replaced by a look of surprise.
“Don’t go home – or wherever you’re staying. Come to my place. You can relax there. Get some rest, eat something – whatever. I have rice, and I promise not to stick a dirty spoon in it.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that her new roommates – whoever they were – were dumbasses who were endangering her with their carelessness.
“I’m not moving back in. I can’t!” she whisper-yelled, eyes wide, almost pleading.
For a split second, he wondered whether she missed the time they’d spent living under the same roof as badly as he did.
“I’m not asking you to move back in. I’m asking you to stop by and get some rest, that’s all. I hate seeing you so sick. You’re not living in a closet, are you?”
The tiniest of smiles flashed across her face. “You asked me that the other day, and I told you, no. I have an actual bedroom.”
“Well… Schubert misses you.” Fuck, he missed her. Never mind the damn cat, who seemed like a shittier roommate than ever, now that he was the only one Noah had. “Will you stop by?”
“I have to work at Hot Ink tonight.”
“Given the fact that you’re puking your guts out, I’m sure they have someone who’ll be willing to cover for you. You said yourself that Mina would do it if you ever needed her to. Why don’t I mention it to Jed over lunch?”
Her brow wrinkled. “You’re having lunch with Jed?”
“He’s decided to sponsor the championship. Or Hot Ink has, officially. Thanks for that, by the way – we have no one to thank but you.”
“I didn’t know. That’s pretty cool.”
He sensed her good mood and pounced on it, just like Schubert might pounce on a hapless dog. “So you’re gonna stop by my place after work?”
For a moment, she simply stood there, gaze locked with his. A lot of things passed through her eyes, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what they all were. “Okay.”
* * * * *
By the time Noah got home from work, Zoe’s car was already in his parking lot. She’d worked her five hour shift and left, whereas he’d stayed for eight. Climbing the stairs toward his unit, he couldn’t help but picture her in his bed.
That wasn’t where he found her, of course. When he walked in, she was on the futon, asleep with Schubert.
Damn the cat. Noah had never been so jealous of an animal. The scruffy creature was curled up with Zoe, his body pressed snugly against her breasts. As Noah entered, the cat surveyed him from where he lounged, shooting what could only be described as a smug look in his direction.
He remembered that Zoe was a light sleeper a moment too late. As he kicked off his shoes, she stirred, sending Schubert leaping for the carpet and slinking beneath the futon.
“Why aren’t you in your bed?” Noah asked. It was still there, in her old room. He’d offered several times to deliver it in Jay’s truck to her new place, but she’d put it off every time he’d asked.
She shrugged, pushing herself into an upright position, tucking her legs beneath herself. “I didn’t want to make myself too … at home.”
He barely suppressed a sigh. “So if you refused to sleep in your own bed, you probably haven’t eaten anything either, right?”
“I wasn’t hungry. Anyway … why is there cat hair all over my shirt?” Frowning, she began dusting bright orange strands from her dark purple blouse.
Apparently Schubert only cuddled in stealth mode. “Told you Schubert missed you.”
He threw his coat up on a hook by the door and crossed the space between them, sinking down onto the futon. He still hadn’t bought the new furniture he’d been planning to get for weeks now. Well, there was a coffee table he’d glimpsed in a second-hand shop window and had picked up on an impulse, but little else. He’d figured he and Zoe would choose a few things together at some point.
Now, that seemed as far away as she did, even though there was hardly a foot between them. Watching her brush cat hair off the front of her shirt, his palms itched with the urge to reach reflexively for the same area on his body, just below his collarbones.
Here today, gone tomorrow. He would be. Everyone would be. Life was short. It could change, drastically, in an instant. When you knew what you wanted, you had to go for it. Right then, or risk missing out on the chance forever. If he hadn’t believed that, he never would’ve had the words inked into his skin.
Now, thinking of them, he wanted to reach out and pull her close, to kiss her until she felt how much he cared about her.
Except she’d been sick and a gut instinct told him that wasn’t the right way to go about things, anyway. There was physical chemistry between them – there was no denying that. And maybe that wasn’t enough to convince her, just like it hadn’t been enough to keep her under his roof. Maybe, in this case, talk wouldn’t be cheap.
“Zoe.”
“Yeah?” She looked better than she’d looked at the office. Sleepy, but not as exhausted, and not quite as pale.
“I’m glad you came by. I wanted to tell you – I think you should keep coming by. Stop staying away, I mean.” She’d been so distant since she’d moved out, effectively severing all ties between them except for one – the professional relationship. Boss and employee.
Fuck that. He wanted more than that from her. Way more.
A regretful look softened her features. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t moving back in. I liked staying here, but I think it’s best if we’re not living under the same roof. It complicates things and puts you in a weird position at work.”
He started to say he didn’t give a fuck what Jay or any of the other guys thought, then bit his tongue. He didn’t care, but obviously, it mattered to her. “I’m not saying you have to move back in. I’m saying we should keep seeing each other. You don’t really not ever want to see me outside of work again, do you?”
“No. But…”
“What?”
“I don’t want to be your special charity case, either. Yours, Elite East’s or anyone else’s.”
What the fuck? “What makes you think you were ever a ‘special charity case’?”
“You were always trying to help me out. It started when I moved in here and escalated from there. Asking me if the pay was enough, telling Jay you’d cover the insurance deductible yourself… On one hand, I loved living here – sleeping in the same bed as you every night – but on the other, I was starting to feel like Schubert: a stray you couldn’t help but feel sorry for. And that’s a shitty feeling I don’t
ever want to get from someone I’m dating.”
His first instinct was to argue. When you cared about someone, you helped them whenever and however you could. Period. But the look in her eyes was a stubborn one, and he could see a hint of something else in her dark irises – embarrassment?
Back when his career had been cut short by his shoulder injury, he’d hated when people had pitied him. Sometimes they’d flat out told him they’d felt sorry for him. Other times he’d seen it in their eyes. His sisters, as much as they’d meant well, had been the absolute worst – plying him with homemade junk food and sniffling dramatically around his place, trying to shoot him up a couple of weight classes as he’d recovered from his first surgery. All the while, he’d stubbornly insisted that he’d be going back to training, back to fighting.
Of course, that had turned out to be a total clusterfuck. They’d been right and he’d been wrong – the injury had been too severe to allow him to continue participating in such an extreme sport on a professional level. And yeah, he’d had his darker moments when he’d felt sorry for himself, but receiving pity from others had been worse, like salt in his wounds.
“You’re right,” he said. “I did do those things. I did them because I like you so much and couldn’t help wanting to help.”
“I know you meant well,” she said. “You’re obviously a very generous person. But it made me feel pathetic. If I’m going to be with someone, I need to feel like we’re equals. It’s hard to feel that way when a relationship begins on such uneven terms.”
After a moment, he nodded. “Okay. But know this… I don’t look at you like I look at Schubert. Yeah, I think the stuff you’re dealing with on behalf of your dad sucks. But I don’t just feel sorry for you. I admire you.”
Her eyes widened a little, then narrowed, searching his. “Why?”
“Because you’d do anything for someone you care about. Do you realize how rare that is? You pour just about every penny you make into your dad’s debt so he can have the best care. Don’t get pissed at me for saying this, but considering that, I think it’s pretty damn hypocritical for you to be mad at me for wanting to help you.”
“Anyone in my family would do the same for me if the situation were reversed,” she said. “Even Britney, and she and Paul aren’t even married yet. It’s just – it’s the right thing to do.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the easy thing. So that’s why I admire you. Schubert doesn’t even compare; he’s just a scruffy orange parasite. You – you’re amazing.”
Zoe smiled slowly, beautifully. “You know just how to make me not feel pathetic. And that’s saying something, seeing as how I’m sitting here on your futon covered in cat hair and with a serious case of bedhead.”
“I like the bedhead. It looks the same as sex hair.”
She laughed.
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t laugh too hard. I need to be serious for another minute here.”
“Oh? Why?”
“I have to tell you something, and I don’t want you to think it’s a joke.”
“I’m listening.”
“I love you.” His chest felt a little tight as he said it, muscles seizing up under the ink he’d had put there to remind himself that he wouldn’t – couldn’t – afford to waste opportunities to do or pursue what he loved. In this case, that was Zoe.
She blinked, but didn’t break eye contact. As her mouth cracked open, her jaw dropping slightly, he remembered how soft her lips were – how they tasted when they were crushed against his.
When several seconds had passed in silence and the stunned look still hadn’t faded from her face, he decided to put himself out there again. “Well? It’s cruel to leave someone hanging after they say that, you know.”
In the blink of an eye, her smile returned. “I love you too. I was just trying to decide whether I should admit that I’ve loved you ever since you turned down those dinner rolls on our first date.”
“Well, your secret’s out now. Good thing you didn’t let on then – I would’ve brought you straight back here and never have let you leave.”
She didn’t protest when he reached out and drew her close, just like he’d been wanting to ever since he’d walked through the door. Instead, she softened against him, breathing a sigh as she let him embrace her, wriggling her arms around his shoulders and hugging him back. “I’m getting cat hair on your nice work shirt.”
“Maybe I should take it off.”
“Maybe you should.”
* * * * *
“Special delivery.”
Zoe peered through the peep hole in the apartment door, her eye going wide as she took in the sexy sight standing outside. “Noah?” She unlatched the deadbolt and swung the door wide open. “What are you doing here?”
Usually, she visited him at his apartment. It was easier since he didn’t have any roommates, save for Schubert.
“Thought I’d bring by dinner.” He held up a paper bag. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, but I’m on to you. You really don’t have to keep cooking for me. I’m not going to get glutened again.” Over the past week, ever since she’d been sickened by eating contaminated rice, he’d been finding excuses to eat with her – either at restaurants with gluten-free offerings, or by cooking himself.
“It happened once,” he said, shooting her a serious look. “It could happen again.”
He’d been monitoring her diet like a hawk ever since she’d explained the possible long-term consequences of eating gluten when one had celiac disease. She almost regretted telling him that her mom had died of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a type of cancer that celiac disease was associated with an elevated risk for. She suspected that her mother had been an undiagnosed celiac, but no doctor had ever had the insight to test her, and now it was too late – she’d never know for sure.
“I hope you’re going to eat with me, at least,” she said as he entered the apartment she shared with Kassie, Tyler’s little sister, and another college-aged girl.
“Are your roommates here?” he asked.
“No. They’re both at work.”
“Good. I’m going to do a hell of a lot more than eat with you, then.”
She couldn’t repress a smile. “Like what?”
“Like eat you.” He grinned, and the sight sent a frisson zipping down her spine.
“Promises, promises,” she said, taking the paper bag. “Let’s see what you brought.”
“It’s just a stir fry. I made it with that tamari soy sauce though. It’s safe.”
She almost laughed when she saw how serious he looked again, all traces of his devious grin gone. She still felt the heat his promise had sent creeping through her veins, though… “It looks good. What do you say we put it in the fridge and I’ll heat it up in a little while?” She arched a brow.
His eyes went a darker shade of green than usual, and she knew he knew what she meant. “All right.”
Less than a minute later, they were on her bed – she’d finally let Noah bring it by for her in Jay’s truck – and their clothes were coming off. Or rather, Noah was peeling hers away with record speed, and she was doing her best to reciprocate, sliding her hands beneath his t-shirt and raking her nails over his inked abs, then fumbling with his jeans button.
When she finally split the zipper, his cock rose stiff and ready, an arrow-straight rod straining his boxer briefs. She slipped her fingers beneath the cotton, brushing the smooth, wide head. Instantly, everything inside her seized up – her body knew what was coming, what kind of pleasure intimate encounters with Noah always brought. Things were still just as hot as they’d been at the very beginning; if anything, a couple weeks apart had raised the heat level even higher, now that they were seeing each other again.
And then there was the fact that they were in love – really, openly. Just thinking about when he’d first said those words to her made her feel all tingly – warm and fuzzy and incredibly turned-on at the same time.
“Not so fast,” h
e said, groaning as she wrapped her hand around his shaft, forming an eager fist. “I made a promise.”
He had her down to her bra and panties now, and in the blink of an eye, he stripped her panties away, whisking them down over her hips. The slightly cool air had barely hit her overheated skin when he slid to the floor, settling on his knees and ducking between her thighs.
Placing a palm on the inside of either of her legs, he pushed, opening her wide so that she was completely exposed to him.
She loved that feeling, just like she loved the way his gaze was riveted to her mound, blazing a trail of heat she’d swear she could feel across her clit and to her pussy lips below. With a sigh, she arched her back a little, shimmying toward the edge of the bed.
When she stopped, his breath hit her sensitive flesh, hot and ragged. The feather-light rush of air was quickly followed by the hard, open-mouthed press of his lips, then the lash of his tongue, stroking at first, then delving inside her.
She writhed as every last little bit of air inside her lungs escaped, threatening to leave her to drown in the combined shock and bliss of it all. His hands anchored her, even as the initial jolt steadied to an ever-increasing sense of pressure, a promise that mounted by the second. This, she’d discovered, was a way in which he could make her come faster than she’d ever realized she could.
It just felt so good, the way he stroked her clit with his tongue, working her desire to a fever-pitch before he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked. That sent her over the edge every time, and this was no exception.
He didn’t relent as her hips bucked, body coming alive beneath his hands. The pleasure that started in her core radiated out into the rest of her, white-hot, making her fingers and toes curl. When he moaned, mouth still fixed firmly against her pussy, the sound and rumbling vibrations combined to send her climax spiking even higher.
When she came crashing back down, she was gasping.
He rose from between her legs, climbing back onto the bed. His unzipped jeans sagged around his hips, exposing half of his cock, which was pinned flat against his belly by the waistband of his underwear, a hard length of flushed and veined flesh that stood out vibrantly against the black and grey of his enormous tattoo. As he reached for her, her gaze caught on the drop of come shining on the tip.
