by Kelly Favor
I started pulling on Noah’s boxers, wondering if they were going to fit. I could never borrow Dan, my college boyfriend’s, clothes because I’d always had to worry about them being too small. I had big boobs, a big butt, curvy hips. But Noah’s t-shirt and boxers were baggy on me. I breathed in his scent and then shut the light off and went to find him in the kitchen.
When I got there, he was peering into the refrigerator.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Starving.” I sat down at one of the stools that was in front of the marble breakfast bar. Everything in Noah’s kitchen was sleek and modern– marble countertops, gleaming stainless steel refrigerator, a double wall oven. It looked like it could be in a magazine spread, with Noah as the model.
I should have been tired, because I’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep before Josh had called about getting down to campus. But I wasn’t. I was wide awake. More than wide awake – full of energy, wired on… I wasn’t sure what. Lust? Passion? The afterglow of amazing sex?
“Right.” Noah started pulling containers out of the refrigerator. His back was just as built as his front, his shoulders broad and strong, the muscles sharply defined.
I shivered.
He turned around. “Are you cold, Charlotte?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not cold.”
He set down an assortment of food on the breakfast bar– blueberry bagels, apple Danish, maple croissants, cinnamon butter, cream cheese, and tiny cheesecakes swirled with chocolate. There was a French press sitting on the counter, and he brought me over some coffee in a tiny white cup.
“I don’t drink coffee,” I said.
“Nonsense,” he said, setting it down in front of me. “Every lawyer drinks coffee, Charlotte. It’s good for you.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Caffeine can lead to adrenal fatigue,” I reported. I reached over and grabbed a croissant.
“Oh, yeah?” He seemed amused. “And where did you hear that?”
“I read it in the American Journal of Medicine.”
“And do you routinely read the American Journal of Medicine?”
I shrugged. “I used to read it a lot. Back when…” Back when I wanted to be a doctor. But I didn’t want to get into that, didn’t want to talk about it with him or anyone else.
“’Back when?’” Noah repeated. He seemed amused by this, too. “Are you even old enough to have a ‘back when’?”
“I’m twenty-one.”
“So no, then.” He pushed my cup of coffee over to me. “The study you’re talking about involved high levels of caffeine, the kind that no normal person would ever be able to ingest. And the same study also proved that coffee is the biggest source of antioxidants in the human diet, and as long as you don’t have any underlying health problems, you should be able to drink it without consequence.”
I tried to remember if any of that was true, but I couldn’t. So I took a sip. “Ugh,” I said, forcing myself to swallow. “That’s disgusting. It’s so bitter. It needs sugar.” I glanced around for a sugar bowl, but I didn’t see one.
“That is a premium French roast,” Noah said. “You can’t ruin it with sugar. And besides, sugar isn’t good for you.”
“Says the man whose idea of breakfast is pastries.”
“Sometimes you need to replenish your energy stores.” He grinned at me and I blushed. He leaned back against the counter, his cut abs flexing as he moved.
I wondered again how someone who looked like him wanted to sleep with someone who looked like me. Not that I thought I was ugly – I knew I wasn’t. I was cute, maybe even pretty, in that girl next door kind of way. But Noah.. Noah could have been a model.
Or a murderer, a voice in my head oh-so-helpfully reminded me.
“Would you like to go out for a proper breakfast?” he asked me.
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now. There’s a twenty-four hour diner downstairs.”
I looked at him. “You eat diner food?”
“Yes, Charlotte. I eat diner food. I’m not a total snob.”
“I don’t have any clothes here,” I said.
“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”
“Your t-shirt and a pair boxer shorts? I really don’t think that’s appropriate, even for a diner.”
He looked at me and pretended to nod seriously, like he could see my point. He set his coffee down on the counter and walked over to where I was sitting. He stood behind me and brushed my hair to the side, then kissed the back of my neck softly. His hands slid down my shoulders, down my arms, stopping at the bottom of my t-shirt.
“Honestly,” he said, as he ran his hands up under the fabric, over the sides of my body, “I’d have to agree with you. This outfit is entirely inappropriate.”
I leaned into him while he kissed a searing line up my neck and his hands explored under my t-shirt. He caressed my stomach and then stopped just under my breasts, teasing me. My nipples hardened.
And then his lips were on mine, soft at first, and then harder, more searching. Our tongues moved in rhythm, sending fire radiating from my center all through my body.
I was sure he was going to fuck me again right there, throw me down on the counter or the floor, push my t-shirt up and have his way with me. But a second later he pulled back from our kiss.
I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His eyes were dark and fiery, and I could feel the want radiating between us.
“Where did you come from?” he whispered.
“Upstate New York,” I whispered back.
He laughed, throwing his head back. “Is that right?”
His hand moved up over my breast then, finally, taking the whole thing in his big hand and squeezing before moving to my nipple. His index finger drew a slow circle around my nipple, until it was tight and hard and I was panting. Then he squeezed so hard it hurt, and I cried out.
This seemed to excite him, and a second later, his mouth was back on mine, only this time, the kiss was hard and deep right from the beginning, the intent behind it clear.
He was going to fuck me again.
And I wanted him to.
But then his phone rang.
He groaned and pulled it out of his pocket, checking the Caller ID.
He frowned and took a step away from me.
“Cutler,” he barked into the phone. “Yeah… on a fucking Saturday? No, Colin, I’m not going to be interrogated on a fucking Saturday… well, I never wanted to cooperate with them anyway… You and I both know that’s bullshit…” He shook his head. “Fine. Fine. No, I’ll be there.”
Noah ended the call and stood there for a moment, looking down at his phone. His body language had changed – where just a moment ago he had been loose and sensual, now he seemed annoyed and tense.
“Was it about your case?” I asked carefully, not wanting to upset him, but also wanting to know what was going on.
“It was Worthington,” he said, his tone cold. “You’re going to have to leave now.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Oh. Um, okay.” I stood up. “Is there anything… I mean, should I – ”
“No. You should go home, Charlotte. I’ll have my driver take you.” He began dialing another number. “Jared,” he barked into the phone. “Can you bring the car around? I need you to take my guest home, she’ll be going to… “ he trailed off and looked at me expectantly.
“Sugar Hill,” I said, naming the part of the city where my apartment was located.
“Sugar Hill,” Noah repeated into the phone.
My face burned when I realized he didn’t know the most basic facts about me – where I was from, where I lived—and yet we’d done and said things that were shockingly intimate.
“Thank you, Jared.” Noah hung up the phone and began gathering up the breakfast things.
I sat there for a second, feeling awkward. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t very well wear his clothes h
ome. It was just boxers and a t-shirt, no bra. Definitely not appropriate for wearing outside. At all.
“I guess… Um, I guess I’ll go get my things,” I said, and Noah gave me a curt nod.
I walked to the bedroom, confused by what had just happened. Why was Noah suddenly shutting down giving me the cold shoulder? Had I done something? I ran the last few moments over in mind, but I couldn’t figure out what had happened. We’d been sitting there, talking and joking around, and then he’d kissed me… it seemed like the call from Professor Worthington had made him upset.
Jesus.
Professor Worthington.
My law professor.
The professor I was technically working for, the one I would need to write me a recommendation for any internships I wanted to pursue, the one who would be responsible for giving me a grade this semester.
The sheets in Noah’s bedroom were in a tangle just the way we’d left them, and I had to hunt for my clothes. I gathered them up then changed back into the skirt and shirt I’d been wearing yesterday.
My face was burning with embarrassment. How could I have been so stupid? Getting involved with a client? Sleeping with him? The first time could be forgiven, but the second….
When I got back to the kitchen, Noah was pouring himself another cup of coffee.
“The car is waiting for you downstairs,” he said.
“Thanks.” I stood there for a moment, not sure what I was supposed to do. “So I guess I’ll be seeing you around… um, on the case, I mean,” I added quickly, just in case he thought I meant I wanted to see him again.
It was obvious from the way he was acting that he didn’t want to see me again.
“Good bye, Charlotte,” he said, his tone dismissive.
“Bye.”
When I got back to my apartment, I took a long, hot, shower, letting the water pulse over me, hoping to erase the memory of Noah Cutler. I wasn’t sure it was going to work, and I was right. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. There was a lump in my throat, and for some reason, I felt like I wanted to cry.
Which was ridiculous.
How could I feel like crying over a man I’d just met less than twelve hours ago? But I couldn’t get away from the fact that it hurt. The way he’d dismissed me, the way things had seem to change so drastically. One moment we were joking around, then kissing, his hands moving up my body, giving me goose bumps… and then the lust in his eyes had disappeared in an instant, replaced with a devastating hardness. Maybe it was true that you couldn’t have amazing sex with someone you didn’t know. Or you could, but then you’d be left with these upsetting consequences.
I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, then got out and wrapped myself in a towel. My phone was on the counter by the sink, and it began buzzing with a call.
It was a number I didn’t recognize, and I answered it immediately, hoping it was Noah, hoping he was calling to tell me he was sorry about how we left things, that he didn’t mean to seem cold, that –
“Charlotte?”
I recognized the voice immediately. It wasn’t Noah. It was Professor Worthington.Was he calling to fire me? Had Noah told him what had happened between us? Had Noah insisted that I be taken off the case?
“Hi, Professor,” I said, combing through my brain and trying to think of anything I could possibly say to save my job.
“Where have you been?” he demanded gruffly. “I’ve been calling you for the last half an hour.”
“I was in the shower,” I said.
“Charlotte, if you’re going to be working with on this case, then you’re going to have to make sure you have your phone on you at all times. Do you understand?”
“So I’m still on the case?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Professor Worthington had gone from sounding rushed to sounding slightly pissed and really annoyed.
“No, I just… I meant…” I couldn’t come up with a good explanation, so finally I just said, “Professor, I want you to know that I am one hundred percent committed to this case, and I will do whatever it is you need me to.”
“Well, then act like it. I need you to meet us down at the police station in thirty minutes.”
“The police station?”
“Yes. Noah Cutler is going to be questioned, and I’m going to need you to take notes.”
“Of course.” My pulse pounded. Not only was I still on the case, but I was going to be there when the police interrogated Noah. It was amazing experience -- Professor Worthington was one of the best criminal defense lawyers in the city. I’d get to witness a true master at work. And not only that, but Noah would be there. The prospect of seeing him again shouldn’t have excited me, especially given the circumstances. But it did.
“And Charlotte?”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Get it together.”
The line went dead before I could reply.
The police precinct was located on Druid Street, right across from a row of high-end bars and restaurants. There was no car to pick me up this time, obviously, so I was forced to take the subway. Which was fine with me.
It had been awkward earlier, sitting in the back of a limo, knowing that Jared, Noah’s driver, probably knew exactly what I’d just done with his boss. Although Jared didn’t seem all that thrown by any of it – in fact, he was perfectly polite and professional. Which made me think this was probably a normal occurrence – Jared having to take home some girl who’d just spent the night with Noah.
Not that that was surprising. Noah was gorgeous and rich and brilliant. He was charming and sexy and he knew all the right things to say. I was sure he’d had models and actresses and whoever else he fancied.
When I walked into the police precinct, I was the first to arrive—there was no sign of Noah or Professor Worthington. I’d expected it to be scary and foreboding, but it wasn’t. There was a receptionist sitting behind a glass partition, and a few officers milled around a desk in the back.
“Can I help you?” the woman behind the partition asked me. She had a short blonde bob and was wearing a very chic pair of horn-rimmed glasses. I wished I could pull off glasses like that, but you had to be a very particular kind of person, usually a hipster. Which I most definitely wasn’t.
“Yes, I’m here with Noah Cutler. I mean, I’m supposed to be meeting him and his team here.”
“Mr. Cutler hasn’t arrived yet,” the woman said. “But you can have a seat over-”
But before she could finish her sentence, the door to the precinct went flying open and Noah came storming in, a harried-looking Professor Worthington trailing behind him. Neither of them even looked at me.
Instead, Noah marched right up to the receptionist.
“I’m here to see Detective Rake,” Noah said. He was wearing a long grey coat over expensive-looking black pants. His hair was freshly styled, his face smoother than it had been when I’d seen him earlier. He must have shaved. He looked like he was about to go to a magazine shoot, not be questioned in a murder.
“Of course, Mr. Cutler,” the receptionist said without even asking Noah’s name. She must have been expecting him, or maybe she knew who he was from his reputation as a lawyer. She picked up a phone and pushed a button. “Detective Rake, Noah Cutler and his lawyer are here.” She replaced the receiver. “He’ll be with you in just a moment.”
Noah didn’t reply, instead heading back toward the front door and pacing angrily. The receptionist was watching him, her gaze moving over his body, his face, and her eyes caught mine. She raised her eyebrows and shook her head at me, and I knew what was trying to convey – wow, he’s hot.
I thought about giving a slight shake of my head to indicate I didn’t agree, but there’s no way she would have believed it. So I nodded my ascent. There really was no way around it – Noah was beautiful. Even this receptionist, who knew he was here to be questioned about a murder, was acknowledging it.
“I’m not waiting more
than two minutes,” Noah growled as he paced around the lobby.
“Noah,” Professor Worthington said, shaking his head. “You need to calm down. We can’t have you being questioned while you’re in an emotional state. You need to seem like you have a cool head about you, you can’t come across as defensive, or …”
“Fuck that,” Noah said. He pulled his gloves of angrily and shoved them into the pocket of his coat. “This is bullshit, making me come down here, and you know it.”
“It’s a show of good faith,” Worthington said. “You need to show that you’re playing by the rules. I don’t like it, and you don’t like it, but that’s how it is. That’s what you would tell a client, and you know it.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Noah said. “If I were my own client, I’d say the police can go fuck themselves, and if they want to question you, they can come to your apartment.”
Worthington sighed. “Noah, you hired me because you trust me. Now you have to listen.”
Noah shook his head angrily and continued pacing around the lobby.
So far, neither he nor Worthington had even acknowledged my presence.
“Oh,” Worthington said finally when he saw me standing there. “Charlotte. Good. You’re here.”
Noah still didn’t look at me.
“Yes, I’m here,” I said. I held up the fresh notebook I’d grabbed from my stash on the way out the door. “I’m ready to work.”
“Good,” Professor Worthington said. He pulled a manila file folder out of his bag and handed it to me. “This is some preliminary information about the case. It’s very bare bones, and in the coming days I’m going to need you to start fleshing it out. I would appreciate your discretion in this matter, Charlotte. You’ll be working directly under me, and so you’ll be bound under the same rules of attorney/client confidentiality as I am.”
“Of course,” I said.
