by V. Theia
“A pretty face doesn’t mean he’s safe.”
“Says the expert with the prettiest face. Are you safe, Noah? You’re the biggest villain of all, how many hearts have you broken?” Hundreds.
Amusement laced his deep voice. Heat continued to swarm through my belly and lower. Oh, sweet tormented heaven this was. “We’re not discussing me, but your lack of judgment.”
“Oh, shut up.” I laughed. “I wanted to get laid hard not marry the guy. And you ruined it, he’s off now boning Dottie from wherever. I bet they get married and have cute fat redheaded babies.”
And then Noah made a noise I’d never heard him make before. It was a cross between a whimper (but manly as fuck) and a growl that vibrated so hard against his chest I felt it ricochet into my own. My eyes pinged open to find his face so close to mine I could see the flecks of green in his piercing eyes. His pupils bled into the blue.
His stare staggered me. I could almost translate a million words those eyes were saying, and breath got locked in my throat and my fingertips turned numb, on any other man I could have sworn it was jealousy I was seeing.
Sweet, heart throbbing, groin pulsing jealousy.
I let that fantasy twist inside my head for a second and a hundred evocative scenarios began to weave their sorcery.
Forest fires had been started with less ignition I was feeling.
“Don’t say that.”
“S-say, what?” My brows lowered. I was more drunk than I thought if I were imagining he was feeling even a slither of jealousy. Idiot Sena. I smiled and let my eyes shut again.
“That you want some fucking random guy to fuck you hard. You’re worth more than that, kitten,” his short, angry bark echoed in my head. See. Just a concerned friend after all. Not a hint of jealousy. I swallowed a sigh.
“Sometimes I need my pipes cleaning, lion. It’s just biology.” I told him chuckling and the same growl-rumble emitted from his lips again. I could hear the aggression in the sound.
I felt my eyelids sag, lulled by a tipsy sleep and the feel of strong fingers massaging my scalp.
FOUR
As a rule, I was not a fan of eating out on Monday nights. In my unassuming opinion Monday's were for decompressing from the first day back at work with a glass of wine and an episode of whatever show was the in thing on DVR. This week it was Game of Thrones. Who wouldn't enjoy incest with a bowl of pho ramen?
Noah had other ideas.
He counter-argued that he worked most nights, and my Monday theory didn't work so that was how I found myself in Bianchi's munching on warm bread sticks (breaking my no carbs this week rule) An up and coming Italian restaurant just around the corner from our building. It was a family run business with a warm atmosphere and good food, but that didn't mean I wouldn't have still preferred to be on my own damn sofa in sleep shorts instead of my casual leggings and a sleeveless floaty number that covered my bloated belly, the reason for my carb reduction this week that I was fast changing to next week as I crunched through my third stick while Noah perused the menu with meticulous care.
He chose food like he did his men.
“You do this menu dance all the time. You know you'll go with the manicotti and eggplant salad with a side order of garlic and parmesan croutons.”
Mid crunch I caught the eye of the bartender across the restaurant staring at me with a smile on his face. What, was I dropping crumbs? I discreetly looked down at my chest and found none. It pained me to realize I didn't know whether the dark haired, tanned Adonis was checking me out or watching to see if I was going to steal the overly large pepper pot.
My flirting game seriously lacked any kind of game lately. I lost some disconnect along the way from the last boyfriend to today if I couldn't genuinely tell if the handsome guy glimpsing over at our table from time to time really was trying to eye-flirt.
With my luck, it would be Noah he was checking out and I was in a bread coma of delusional grandeur.
As predicted Noah went with the manicotti, I tried something new and instantly regretted the vegetarian option as I watched him cut through pools of melted cheese and beef. About half way through our meal he took pity on me and shifted half of his portion onto my plate. My squeal of joy was payment enough as he smirked and carried on eating and talked about his latest million-dollar deal.
He was trying to buy a chain of strip clubs.
“I hope it's going to be an equal opportunity strip joint with male dancers shaking tight buns of steel and a package so big hungry woman thank his mama.” Noah cocked a brow in that way that irritated and turned me on at the same time.
He was so damn arrogant sometimes without even saying a word.
“Naturally, kitten. You can sit in on auditions if you want.”
I did want.
For feminism, of course.
Who wouldn't want in on the ground up of the future Magic Mike?
I could see it now; hey, kids, I met your daddy when he showed me his dance skills in a tight thong.
My eyes drifted back to Adonis again. Not that I was attracted, but he was nice looking, I just wanted to make sure who the guy was looking at. It was not Noah I discovered when he took himself off to the bathroom.
Adonis winked at me.
Well then, maybe leggings and off the shoulder tops were okay after all. I smiled back and sipped my wine, other than that I didn't engage since he went back to serving, but after my disastrous night at the club with the fireman we shall never name again it felt good to have the subtle attention of a guy.
Call me desperate but a girl took what she could during a slow spell.
It was while I was waiting for Noah after our meal, when he went to take a call, that I sat myself at the bar, and sure enough Adonis came over to showcase he had the most amazing brown eyes, deep set against his tan.
I couldn't help comparing him to Noah, it was my checkpoint with all men and a horrible habit I'd gotten myself into because of my feelings no one was ever going to come out on top over him.
“Can I get you a drink, bella?”
Oh, nice. I smiled and gave a flip of my hair. “I'll take a water, I'm not stopping.”
“That is a shame. I was hoping you'd talk a while, you're the most captivating woman I've seen tonight.”
“Oh?” I wanted to know what made me so captivating? I called bullshit. All I'd done was eat too much pasta, nothing fascinating in that. I had to ask, since he was being so forward. “You saw me with a guy, but you're still hitting on me?” All kinds of wicked handsome flashed in his smile showcasing straight white teeth, his smile probably promised a dirty-good time under his sheets.
With a strong Bronx accent, I wondered if he had Italian stallion roots to go with the flirtation. “The fella wasn’t touching you, so I didn't catch any boyfriend vibes between you. Was I wrong?”
Sadly, he was not wrong. “You must people watch a lot.”
He shrugged, smiling. It was odd to find a man so…smiley. Made me think he was hiding something behind those teeth. It put me off even attempting to flirt back and I looked around for Noah, saw him talking quietly in an alcove, from the relaxed state of his shoulders beneath the black Armani jacket I took it that it wasn’t a work emergency call.
“I watched you, that's for sure. You're stunning, bella. Can I take you out sometime?”
I laughed at his boldness. “I don't know you.”
His hand came across the bar instantly and gasped mine, he was exceptionally strong, not a callus in sight, but I noticed he had clean nails. The touching I didn’t like so I drew my hand back. “I'm Mario. And you, bella?”
“Bella is fine.”
The bar Adonis with his strong upper arms bulging out his white T-shirt was what I thought all Italian born men were like. Virility coming out of their pores. If India had been here she would have already been inside his pants inspecting the goods.
I was a little demurer in my flirting, hence why I hadn't been laid since the stone age.
&nb
sp; And no woman under the age of thirty-five should ever say hence but I liked it therefore I henced.
Italian Mario leaned across the bar, eyes trained on me intense enough I inhaled and found my nose filled with whatever musk he'd rolled in. “Let me give you my number, bella.” I took the small square of paper automatically when he thrust it at me right as Noah came back. I felt his presence before I saw him, and then his hand touched the bare part of my shoulder, his head coming down to my ear from behind.
My reaction was instant, and I hoped neither Noah nor Adonis, I meant Mario, noticed my shiver. “Ready, kitten?”
“Mmhm. Yep.” I replied, stepping off the stool. I turned to Mario, his dark watchful eyes not so smiley now had dimmed a little as his gaze went between us.
I know what he saw.
It was what everyone saw when they first got a close look at Noah Fierro.
He was not someone you took lightly.
Intimidated was always the word I'd describe for people meeting him for the first time. It was his utter size and presence, like he commanded everything and everyone in whatever room he was in simply by existing. It was disgusting he didn't even have to say a word and people fell over themselves either in fear or complete servitude.
I think Mario with the good teeth was teetering on a little of both. He hadn't minded eye-fucking Noah's table guest from afar, while Noah wasn't in reaching distance, but now the man was in front of Mario, he was backing down a little.
Disappointing. Maybe I would have agreed to a date had he shown some backbone in not being subdued by another man, who was obviously not my lover standing at my back.
Alas there was no flip-flop in my stomach for Mario, no matter how good he smelled.
But there was a whole lot of flipping and flopping when Noah's hand slid around my waist.
Damn.
“Goodnight, bella.” Mario winked and nodded to the number I still clutched as if to silently say; call me.
“Night.” I told him. Sure, I would ditch his little piece of paper once I was outside.
“And who was that?”
I played dumb. “Who?”
“The bartender who undressed you all the way through dinner and then pounced while I was taking my call.”
I laughed arching a brow on our stroll back home.
I loved New York. You could get anywhere just by walking. Though I missed my car sometimes.
“You were spying?”
“I looked over. Did he ask you out?”
“Don't all men ask me out, Noah?” I gave a hearty put-upon sigh. If only. “I'm catnip for anything with a dick.”
Oh, the look on his strict face. He was waiting for his answer. God forbid someone didn't bend over backwards for the great and powerful Oz.
I shoved him with my shoulder before moving out of the way of a woman and a pack of dogs. A literal pack she was walking, or rather, they were walking her. When I got back in line, Noah's arm came around my waist as it usually did.
A tactile no-big-deal move for him, a heart thumping touch for me.
I wished I'd worn a jacket now his fingertips were touching the patch of my body that wasn't covered by pants or shirt.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. Yes, fuck me right here on the sidewalk. “He's called Mario, and he asked me out, gave me his number.”
The number I hadn't discarded I realized, it was still in my fist.
Huh. How about that.
Maybe it was my psyche telling me to give Adonis a chance for that flip-flop sensation to grow.
I couldn't really afford to turn down men who were actively interested in me if I were ever to see some action again.
But on the other more romantic hand, I wanted fireworks in my drawers, I wanted the seed of desire to grow so deep so fast that I was lost in my partner. I wanted my nipples to bead and pucker in anticipation and ache for a wet mouth sucking on them for days.
Was it too much to ask?
I missed the exploration of a new man, someone I was crazy interested in. Those first few kisses that felt like no other, the subtle hand touches to send shivers all over my body.
I just missed it all.
Settling for any old date, albeit with a very handsome Adonis of a thick armed man, it just seemed wrong that I couldn't muster up any interest to get into his very tight black pants.
What was wrong with me?
What was wrong was the guy at my side leading me into our building, seeing me up to my floor. I quirked as he stepped out of the elevator with me instead of going up to his grander penthouse floor. “Are you going to kiss me at the door like a date, Noah?” I joked reaching for my key.
He'd turned me before I could even get it into the lock, pressing me up against the door and climbed into the space with me uninvited.
My heart stopped and then restarted with a hard jump.
Eyes bluer than my favorite nail polish flashed at me, his face serious as it mostly was, Noah cupped the side of my head. “That guy looked like a jackass slobbering at you, you shouldn't make a date with someone like that.” Somehow his voice had grown rougher in seconds, and I tried not to let it affect me. The first time I heard his voice, as the Kardashian’s as my witness, I swear the air shifted. Even in a noisy nightclub, barely even able to hear myself think, his voice shuddered through me so hard it misplaced my lungs.
Good gravy. I’d been spellbound.
There was no other word for it, maybe magic, but even that felt too weak. I’d been shook listening to him tell me he wasn’t interested in me, but all I heard was sexy, sexy noise coming out of those lips. Every nuance was silk and a touch dark.
Sometimes when he spoke, his voice flowed so rich in baritone it sounded like he had an animal living beneath his skin, that he wasn’t just all man.
Stupid, I know. I even romanticized his fucking tone of voice.
I probably needed a vacation, time away from the cloying city and the man I couldn’t have, because as my momma would say; shit ain’t healthy, baby.
“Slobbering? He was not. Besides, I might like a little slobber. We do like to be desired, lion, don’t we? It tickles our special places.”
With an idea if I just ignored the attraction I felt sloshing around my midsection one day it would miraculously disappear and leave behind the wholesome, lovely friendship I felt for this man.
But while he did things like this, like getting in my face, close enough I was invaded by his overwhelming scent, telling me not to date guys, giving me all kinds of mixed signals, I was grasping onto because hello, I wanted him.
And as women tended to do; we fashioned a conversation between our brains and the things men didn't say and suddenly they became a thing that drove us crazy and I knew I was doing it even as I pressed into Noah's chest but couldn't help myself. I liked the contact, the heat and strength of him leaning into my body. He was so hard and strong all over.
“Sena, men like him are users.”
I huffed in Adonis' defence. We didn't know that. And I told him. “You can't know that from seeing him for all of three seconds.”
“I watched while you spoke to him, kitten, he had eyes on every woman in there.”
I frowned, feeling a little betrayed he'd even say that to me, way to pop my ego. I pressed hands to his chest and slid out from under him, turning I opened my door.
“Whatever. I want to get laid, not marry the guy. Thanks for dinner, Goodnight, Noah.”
His advice, seemingly innocuous always cut down to the bare truth and he would be right.
“Sena.”
I sighed before I could slam the door in his pretty face. Surely one day all these feelings would just poof, right? I faced him, saw his own frown bunching up his otherwise firm forehead as he stepped closer, cupped the side of my head in his massive hand. “You deserve it all, not a playboy of a whore who has probably given his number to countless women this week.” And then he leaned down and bussed a kiss that lasted longer than four seconds to my lips.
>
My mouth quivered.
I reacted inwardly to the soft touch and taste of him that I absolutely licked from my lips a second later. “Goodnight, kitten.” And he walked back towards the stairs, he'd probably run up to his floor before I'd even gotten my door locked.
Before I changed my mind, I'd unfurled my fingers, unfolded the piece of paper and read; I hope you call, bella. And there was Mario's number.
I did call.
And I did arrange a date with the Adonis who seemed genuinely happy to hear so soon from me.
He wasn't as surprised as I was that I called at all.
I’d made an angry date impulsively and I had no justification in the anger other than my lust for another man was not my strongest rational argument.
Noah had pissed me off with his protective, unfiltered truth and now I'd made a date with an Adonis with arms that could crush whole forests.
And I wasn't excited in the slightest.
Dear god, what was I getting myself into by proving this point?
FIVE
Suffice to say a date with Mario did not go as swimmingly amazing as I’d talked myself into.
I could have rattled off a whole score of reasons throughout the long as fuck four hours.
He talked constantly to my tits.
He touched my ass whenever he was near me.
He didn’t pick up the check.
Didn’t open doors.
He flirted with the waitress and made a lewd remark about a woman sitting at the bar.
All in all, it was a fucking nightmare of a date and I’d given my excuses and left him in the restaurant.
I was dating doomed.
Woe is me. Where was my tiny violin string quartet of my pity party?
Three more times in the next two weeks I had disastrous attempts at trying to meet someone that I gave up altogether, not least of all to give my poor liver time to recover. I was not a drinker by nature, three drinks my normal limit, but when nervous or on edge I tended to neck drinks like I was in the desert and afraid a camel was about to come along and take my last drop of liquid. Fucking camel.
