by T. K. Leigh
“Paul, listen…”
“Those aren’t good words,” he remarked, avoiding my eyes.
I shook my head, sighing deeply. “I’m going to be completely honest with you, which is something I normally don’t do with guys I meet.” I looked away momentarily, gathering my thoughts, then returned my gaze to his. “I don’t know why I feel bad saying this, but… I’m not Mormon. In fact, I’m not even religious. At all. I’m pretty sure I’d spew pea soup if anyone tried to throw holy water on me or some shit. I didn’t realize that dating site was for Mormons.”
“That’s okay,” Paul said, making me feel even worse. It was true what they said about Mormons. They were all really fucking nice. “It’s never too late to open your arms to God’s love.”
“See, that’s the thing. When people go all God and religious on me, it makes me uneasy.”
“Are you…” He swallowed hard, then lowered his voice, as if speaking a horrible truth, “an atheist?”
I formed my lips into a tight line, a contemplative expression on my face. “I don’t know what I am, but I do know I’m not going to change who I am for someone else.”
Briefly closing his eyes, he nodded, hailing a cab. When one stopped, he grabbed my hand and led me over, opening the rear passenger door for me. I kept my eyes glued to him the entire time. If he was upset I led him on throughout the course of our date, he didn’t let it show.
He helped me into the back seat, then leaned down, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. “You’d be surprised what you’re capable of sacrificing when you meet the right person.” He stood back, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, then closed the door. I stared at him through the window, considering his words.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Snapping my eyes away from Paul’s, I told him my address. The driver pulled into traffic as I leaned against the window, staring at the falling rain. Paul’s words seemed to play on repeat throughout the drive. I didn’t want to believe there was any truth to them. I could never sacrifice who I was as a person for a temporary moment of supposed happiness.
A bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, making me recall how much I loved stormy nights like these as a child. From the comfort of our screened in back porch, Drew, Dad, and I would watch lightning streak across the sky, the air thick with moisture. We would eat marshmallows and listen to the sound of the rain. Having to raise two kids on his own wasn’t easy, but my father never let on.
As much as I told myself time and time again that his condition didn’t affect me, it did. I wished he could recollect some of these moments we shared. I sometimes wanted to shake him and force him to remember. How could someone just forget these memories I held so very dear to me? Moments I always went back to when having a particularly hard day and just wanted to feel as though someone cared.
After a longer than normal ride due to a short deluge of rain, the cab slowed to a stop in front of my building. I reached into my purse, then handed the driver enough cash to cover my fare and tip. Leaving the flowers on the seat, I stepped onto the wet sidewalk and looked up. The rain had subsided for now. I wished I could rewind the clocks to those stormy nights I spent as a child with my father. It was true what they said. We never truly appreciate what we have until it’s gone.
With a heavy sigh, I turned toward my building, fumbling for my keys. I considered heading over to Drew’s, but talking was the last thing I wanted to do right now. Noah seemed to still have a strange hold over me. I needed to shake it. The only way to do that was to go back to what I knew…writing. I’d burn the midnight oil writing a sham of a love story because that was all I was good at.
Inserting my key into the lock, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice startled me.
“How was the date?”
I whirled around, my heart racing, adrenaline spiking. I placed my hand on my chest, struggling to calm my breathing as I laid eyes on Noah’s tall frame leaning against the side of the café.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed. “How did you know where I lived?”
“It’s in our files.” He pushed himself off the wall and started toward me.
“I told you my brother lives across the alley.” I nodded at the windows above the café, my voice barely above a whisper. “He could see us.”
Noah continued toward me, each step he took making my heart rate increase. He remained quiet, like a lion stalking his prey.
“Unless the only reason you were concerned about anyone finding out what happened between us is because of your girlfriend, not your relationship with my father.” He took another step toward me, his sly gaze unnerving me. “Not that it’s any of my business. It was only a kiss.”
“It didn’t mean anything to you?” He had an air of confidence about him, a slight smirk drawn on those lips I’d had the distinct pleasure of tasting for a blissful two minutes. Seven Minutes in Heaven had nothing on Two Minutes with Noah.
“I really don’t think it’s that big a deal.” With each step he took, my heart rate increased until he was standing just inches away on my front stoop. Trapped, my breathing became ragged, a subtle fluttering starting in my chest. “It was entirely forgettable, if we’re being completely honest with each other.”
He loomed over me, resting his hand on the door behind me. “Forgettable?”
My lips parted as I gave a small nod, my knees weakening under his intense stare.
Disappointment fell over his entire body, the heat in his eyes vanishing. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” He hung his head.
When he started to turn away, I opened my mouth to stop him. Before I could, his lips met mine, taking me by surprise. He pressed his body into me, pinning me against the door. I stiffened, a thousand different thoughts circling my head. Noah was kissing me. On my front stoop. Where anyone could see.
After my initial shock waned, I stood on my toes and melted into him. His soft lips moving against mine felt so right, so warm, so perfect. I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging him toward me, deepening the kiss. No matter how close we were, it wasn’t enough.
All too soon, Noah pulled away and stared at me, his expression unreadable. I worried he’d have the same response he did all those weeks ago.
“What did you say?” he said finally, nuzzling my neck. “The kiss was pretty forgettable?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes.”
“Maybe for you, but it wasn’t for me. That’s all I’ve been able to think about.”
I lowered myself down to my heels, remembering the cold shoulder he’d given me. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
“And I apologize for that. I was stupid.”
“You can say that again,” I muttered.
“I’ve never allowed my feelings to interfere with any of my patients’ care before.”
“It was just a kiss.” I spun around, turning the knob of my door to reveal a darkened staircase. I didn’t want Noah to see the truth in my eyes. That his kiss was a culmination of something that had been growing inside me since he saved me from the genetically modified killer ducks at the Common.
“It wasn’t just a kiss to me. And I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just a kiss to you, either.”
I faced him, about to protest, but he cut me off.
“I know this is wrong…” He ran his hand down my cheek, the contact making the hair on my nape rise. A current flowed through my veins, igniting a fire that had been smoldering for weeks. “But being with you, spending time with you, laughing with you… It feels so right.”
“What about your girlfriend?”
A brilliant smile crossed his face. “You mean Piper?” I nodded. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“You mean to tell me you were out to dinner on a Saturday night with a woman who’s not your girlfriend?”
“You were at dinner, too,” he reminded me.
“It didn’t work out,” I responded. “What’s your excuse?”
&n
bsp; “No excuse. But I could never date Piper.”
“Why not? She’s very pretty. And she’s a doctor. I’m sure you would get along famously.”
“It would be illegal.”
“Illegal?” I scrunched my eyebrows.
“Piper’s my sister. So, you see…” He closed the distance between us again, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Oh.” I swallowed hard, biting my lip. “And Paul is, like, really Mormon, so…”
Noah raised his eyebrows. “That explains the prayer during dinner.”
A shy smile tugged at my lips. “The devil sucks. Amen.”
“That’s what you said?”
I shrugged.
He studied me momentarily, then burst out laughing. I remained still for a moment, then followed suit, the ridiculousness of the evening catching up to me. I should have walked out of that restaurant the moment I realized the website I met Paul on was geared toward Mormons. But then I wouldn’t have noticed Noah, and he wouldn’t have seen me. We probably wouldn’t be here, enjoying the easy conversation that had been lacking over the past several weeks.
When our laughter finally died down, he leaned toward me, his expression turning serious. “I missed this.”
“Me, too.”
Taking his time, he lowered his mouth to mine, a breath away. “God, Molly, you have no idea how much I’ve missed this.”
Bliss rolled over me as our lips met again. Clutching his face between my hands, I pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. What started out as a sweet exchange turned into a heated moment of unmatched intensity and rapture as we feverishly tried to make up for the lack of contact over the past few weeks.
Desperate to feel more of him, I raked my nails through his hair, tugging at him. He groaned, the kiss becoming more primal and animalistic. His lips never leaving mine, he pushed me into the darkened stairwell of my building. Our tongues continued their well-choreographed dance, as if they’d been made to do precisely this. My core ached to feel his hands on my flesh, for him to be delicate and dominant, sweet and sinful, to feel pleasure and pain. I wanted everything he could give me. Even when he was done, it wouldn’t be enough. Every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his finger, every tug of my hair made my hunger for him build until nothing would satisfy it.
Dizzy, I tore out of the kiss and struggled to catch my breath. Eyeing him with lust, I began up the steps, then paused to glance over my shoulder.
A heated expression grew on his face as he studied my every movement, a hunter out for the kill. I continued up the stairs, hoping he would get the hint and come rambling up behind me. A fire burned inside me I didn’t think anyone could put out, but I hoped Noah would be up to the challenge.
I unlocked the door to my apartment, scrambling to pick up the mugs and candy wrappers strewn on my coffee table. Just as I tossed the evidence of my less-than-stellar housekeeping skills into the garbage, I heard the boards of the second floor landing creak.
Feverishly surveying my living room to make sure there wasn’t anything I didn’t want Noah to see, I stopped in my tracks when he appeared in the doorway. His presence was formidable. Without saying a word, he closed and locked the door, his eyes trained on me. A chill rolled down my spine.
Rattled, I headed toward the wet bar, trying to keep calm.
“Drink?” I poured scotch into two tumblers, bringing one to my lips. I stopped when I looked up to see Noah standing just inches from me. He reached for my glass and set it down on the bar. My tongue darted out, licking my lips, the taste of scotch and Noah still lingering.
His eyes unwavering, he shrugged out of his suit jacket, then hung it over the back of one of the barstools by the peninsula. Silence stretched between us. It was neither awkward nor comfortable. It was something else entirely…charged, intense, electrifying.
I’d always held the upper hand in all of my previous arrangements. I’d always been the one to decide when we saw each other, how we fucked, and when we were done. With Noah, though, I felt completely out of my comfort zone. I wasn’t the one calling the shots. I was simply following his lead, allowing my brain to stop thinking for once, able to act on mere impulse.
Placing his hand on the small of my back, he forced my body against his, our eyes locking. He wrapped my hair around his free hand, tilting my head back. I was blissfully trapped in his arms, unable to escape. He lowered his lips back to mine, this kiss just as exciting and unique as all the ones that had come before it. He was reserved, the way his tongue dipped into my mouth guarded, controlled, restrained. It wasn’t enough for me. I needed the intensity, the passion, the fire. I tried to deepen the kiss, but he fought back with measured movements, his tongue barely brushing mine, teasing me. Every inch of my body was on edge, the simple act of his mouth moving so delicately and softly against mine making me lightheaded. An unquenchable thirst flamed in my core, in my heart, in my soul.
“Bedroom?” he murmured, his lips not breaking from mine.
“At the end of the hall,” I answered in a husky voice. My heart thumped in my chest, my breathing increasing. I’d never been this jittery when I’d brought other men into my bedroom. But those other men weren’t Noah. In that moment, I knew the connection I’d felt to him from day one wasn’t simply because he helped me get over my writer’s block. This was something bigger.
In one swift motion, he swept me into his arms, carrying me down the hallway. When he placed his hand on the knob and began to turn, a ferocious barking startled both of us. I’d nearly forgotten about Pee Wee in my Noah-induced desire.
“Shit.” I fought against Noah to put me down. He lowered my feet to the floor. “Let me move him. Hope you don’t mind dogs.” When I opened the door, Pee Wee’s barking stopped as he rolled over, expecting to get a belly rub.
“Not at all. If I didn’t have such a busy schedule, I’d have one myself.”
I offered him a smile, then opened the closed door to the right of my bedroom. I turned on the light and called Pee Wee over to his bed. When Noah stepped in behind my dog, my heart fell to my stomach as he studied the bookshelves containing dozens of copies of each of my books waiting to be signed and sent out.
With a furrowed brow, he continued past the bookshelves toward the far wall, a framed copy of the New York Times bestseller list from the first time one of my books appeared on it. Accompanying that were various announcements of publishing deals — foreign language translations, film and television options, and the like.
He turned around, looking at me in a completely different light. “What is all of this?”
“It’s me,” I replied with a shrug. I could have mustered up a lie, but for some reason, I didn’t mind him knowing about this part of me. “Vivienne Foxx is a pen name I write under.”
His eyes widening, he turned back around, studying each frame. When he reached the last one, he stopped, then read it out loud. “So it goes.”
“From Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five,” I explained. “I’ve always found those three words strung together in that order so haunting. They occur each time there’s a death in the book, the end of something. There’s just so much emotion and lack of emotion at the same time. I guess it’s just a reminder that nothing lasts forever, that everything will eventually come to an end… Including all this.” I gestured at my surroundings.
Considering my words, his eyes roamed back to the bookshelves. “So you wrote all these?”
“It’s really not that big a deal.” I tried to usher him out of the room. “They’re labeled romance, but it’s more erotica than anything else. That’s what my publisher likes. Short, sexy, sinful, seductive.”
“But what does Molly like to write?” He raised his brows.
I couldn’t help but think back to the manuscript I’d tossed. How it was anything but short, sexy, sinful, and seductive. Sure, there were some sensual moments between my hero and heroine, but it was a rather big departure from what I typicall
y wrote. And it was my best work to date.
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about any of this?”
“Like I said, it’s not that big a deal. Plus, I don’t like a lot of people knowing.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room, shutting the door behind me. “So can we just forget about it for now?”
He shook his head. I feared he’d want to spend the evening discussing why I didn’t like people knowing about my alter ego. Then his eyes turned conniving. “Tell me more about this so-called erotica.”
I stood on my tiptoes. “Kiss me and I’ll give you a lesson.” Grabbing the back of his head, I forced his lips to mine, a low groan rumbling from his chest. It was a sense of pride to know I caused this kind of primal and guttural reaction from him.
He pushed me into my bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Excitement bubbled in my veins. When the back of my legs hit the bed, he leisurely pulled out of the kiss. The feel of his lips still lingered on mine. Keeping my eyes locked with his, I reached for the zipper on the back of my dress.
“Wait a minute,” Noah said in a smooth voice.
Grinning a lascivious grin at me, he spun me around so I faced away from him. His fingers expertly swept my hair over one shoulder, exposing my nape, his breath dancing on my skin. Tremors rolled over me, moisture pooling between my legs. Closing my eyes, I clenched every muscle in my body. I was desperate for release from the pressure building inside me. I couldn’t remember ever needing an orgasm as badly as I needed one at that moment.
His lips feathered kisses across my shoulder blades as he murmured, “That’s my job.”
My eyes fluttered into the back of my head, each drawn-out second that passed as he lowered the zipper of my dress with torturous apathy one second closer to me combusting from all the sexual tension. Noah didn’t need a lesson from me. He was a master in the art of delayed gratification, able to build me up when all I wanted was to feel him inside me. I imagined he fucked the way he seemed to do everything else in life…with intensity, with passion, with incredible sophistication.
