Sarcasm.
The cherry on top of his asshole.
He glares back.
We’re locked in a stalemate until Noah grows bored and marches over to me, grabbing my arm and guides me to the roof’s ledge.
“Dance,” he instructs, low and commanding. Dark as the night with no stars in the sky.
He brought me up here and wants me to dance on the building’s ledge. He wants me to dance on the edge of the roof.
The thought alone has my muscles seizing.
“Sayer,” Noah calls when I don’t move.
“Stop talking, Noah.”
He raises a brow. Not happy.
A small, sassy smile pulls at my mouth as I see him clench and unclench his hands.
Getting under Noah’s skin is quickly becoming my new favorite hobby.
“Get up there, Sayer.”
I shake my head, the smile growing, aware that I’m walking a thin line taunting the king of the city. I can’t stop though. It might not be under my touch, but it’s liberating watching Noah come undone before me.
“It is an honor, you know. To play against one of us. You saw the crowd downstairs, they would love to lose to me. Be up here with me.”
“So go grab one of them.” I cross my arms, partly in defiance, partly for warmth. It’s freezing tonight and here we are without our coats.
“Can’t do that, Baby Brooks,” he taunts, not at all bothered by the cold.
“And why not?”
“Because I enjoy your company more.” He takes a step toward me. “How you try and fight me.” Another step. And another, until he’s right here in front of me. “It’s cute that you think you can win against me.”
I don’t remind him I already lost because I don’t think he’s talking about the poker game. There’s so much heat in his features, something wild in his eyes. A chill unrelated to the cold goes down my spine.
Noah wraps a strand of my hair around his finger, slowly. We stand so close as he rests his forehead against mine. I feel my heart go wild with how close we are and I pray that he doesn’t hear it. I don’t know what he’s doing but I don’t want to stop it. There’s something intimate about how we stand. Locked in this embrace, forehead to forehead.
I close my eyes, breathing in mahogany and amber. Breathing in Noah, getting lost in him as his thumb traces my cheekbone. With every stroke my chest feels heavier, beats wilder.
My eyes snap open, wide, feeling his lips brush against my skin on their journey to my ear. In a soft, sensual whisper Noah says, “Get on the ledge, Sayer.”
I pull away. He doesn’t let me go. And maybe it’s because I still feel the high of his touch or the altitude from being up this high is getting to me but my fate is sealed the second I open my mouth. “Make me.”
A dare wrapped in a pretty bow. Noah seizes it with an iron grip on my hips. He carries me to the edge and as he does he whispers in my ear, “There’s a lot I want to make you do, princess, but I’ll settle on this.” He puts me down and backs away. “For now.”
I make the mistake of looking down and wish I hadn’t. My throat works with difficulty to swallow. I don’t move. I’ve forgotten how.
Noah doesn’t pay attention to the turmoil that’s frozen my body. He doesn’t care.
“Go on.” He crosses his arms. “Dance for me.”
He practically purrs the words. Dance for me.
I used to love to dance. I grew up taking classes, it was the one thing my parents forced me into that I actually enjoyed. Maybe that’s why they ripped me out of them two years later.
I can’t even force myself to shift an inch, though. Heights are a foe I have no courage to squander but Noah waits. A knowing gleam rests in his eyes.
He knows.
He knows I’m afraid of heights despite me never telling him.
It’s been a fear that’s only lived inside me.
Surprise should come but it doesn’t. Of course Noah knows.
This is his kingdom and I am a lowly subject.
He knows all. Sees all.
And he looks ready to stay up here all night.
I’m not. Too bad my body is still locked in fear. To get out of it I have to channel a person I probably shouldn’t.
What would Harlow do?
The answer comes immediately.
She’d do anything, fear nothing and go after whatever she wants. Harlow would play this game while inventing her own.
And that’s what I need to do.
Confident. I need to be confident.
So I dance. I dance to no music, hips swaying with the wind.
After several unheard beats of awkwardness, my body loosens up and I dare to meet Noah’s eyes.
They flare when we connect.
A jolt stuns me.
Power shifting in the air.
Power directed at me, solely me. Noah’s undivided attention. He follows my movements, my hips rolling, hands exploring.
I’m out on display but only he’s watching.
And that does something to me.
Never have I felt the heat of a stare or seen anything as intense in his eyes. They ignite a revolution in me. No one’s ever looked at me like this, like he’s assessing me while drinking me in.
If I thought he made me feel alive at his club, what he stirred up downstairs, it was child’s play compared to this.
His attention feeds me, my moves becoming more daring. My wandering hands become bolder as they glide over my hips.
The air outside is tortuous and I should be freezing, but everything melts under Noah’s stare.
He’s fire. He’s fury.
I spin around, smiling coyly over my shoulder and that’s when everything goes wrong.
Balance—I’ve lost it and my eyes widen in horror as I feel my footing slip, finding ice concealed by the night.
A scream tears my throat.
And I’m falling
Falling
Falling.
My life flashes in short clips.
Moments with my parents. My friends. With my sister. The tears and laughter.
The memories of my granddad and the lurid thought that I’m about to be reunited with him.
Time stops and I scream for I don’t know how long until I realize I’m not falling, but dangling.
Noah.
He’s staring down at me like an avenging angel, determination on his face as he pulls me up like a rag doll.
Once I’m back on the roof, I crumple to the ground. The biting cold pierces past my clothes and I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but the air in my lungs.
I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.
And I’m shaking.
Cold, strong fingers grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
Part of me expects some empathy, some compassion but instead his expression is as cold as his frozen fingers. “How do you feel?”
“What?”
“How do you feel?” he repeats.
Alive. “I feel alive.” As strange as that may sound to my ears, I feel awakened.
Noah lets go of my jaw and steps back.
I push myself up, pulling my coat close. He smirks.
“Why?” I ask him. “Why did you make me do this?”
He doesn’t answer as the distance closes between us.
My body trembles. Only this time my reaction isn’t toward anything but him. I’m not like this.
I like rules and everything Noah stands against. I’m always careful and conscious of everything. So why is there a tightness encasing my chest, my lungs?
I shouldn’t like this feeling—this humming in my veins, jolting and waking me up. And yet, as he closes the space between us, I find myself leaning toward him.
With ice-like hands, Noah cups my cheeks, leaning in close.
He’s going to kiss me—
And I’m going to let him.
Noah Kincaid’s nose traces my cheek as his hands move to my throat.
My breath catches as he
squeezes, just a little, and I close my eyes.
Only for them to snap back open.
“I’m going to break you.”
Tucked between the bookshelves of the school’s library, I sit at a table with a large stack of books, along with a few empty coffee cups from the little cafe downstairs scattered around me. Wireless earbuds sit in my ear, blaring a 90s grunge song with my pen softly tapping to the beat of the music as I turn the page to the text I’m reading.
It’s after eleven at night and with barely a dent in my to-do list, I’m thankful the library is open until three in the morning. My productivity is crap when I’m at home. But it seems tonight, no matter where I work I’m destined to be distracted.
My mind keeps slipping back to two nights ago when I was on the roof with Noah.
How charged I felt with his stare attached to me. I don’t know what it is about him that is able to tap into a well inside me, bringing out a side I haven’t seen in who knows how long.
I didn’t feel like a void taking up space. I felt daring and bold.
Almost falling was terrifying, but in a way, it was the wake-up call that I needed.
For an entire year, I’ve been feeding the loss of my grandpa, letting it control me instead of allowing myself to mourn. It’s been holding me back when that’s the last thing my grandfather would’ve wanted.
He wanted me to live in all the colors life had to offer, to not be as cold and distant as my parents.
“Your life is a masterpiece forever in progress,” he used to say. “So go make something grand out of it.”
I haven’t.
But I need to.
Noah’s displeasured face pops up in my mind.
He could show me, help me. He already brings out a change in me.
I want to chase the high only danger can provide. The kind only Noah can provide.
The other night on the roof, when he held me in his arms, our faces inches apart, I thought he was going to kiss me.
An absurd concept. Me. Noah. Kissing.
We live in the same world, but we’re on two different planes.
I probably don’t bring out any of the feelings he stirs up for me in him. I’m not even sure he’s capable of feeling anything beyond stubborn annoyance and dark amusement when it comes to me. If it’s possible to reach past his icy exterior.
I want to find out.
I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to feel his lips move against mine. Is he as aggressive with a kiss as he is in business?
To have his body pressed against me without the barrier of clothes between us. Would he take control over me and render me to a drunken mess at his feet?
All these questions that will never find their answers.
I can’t do anything with Noah.
Not just because he dated my sister and Harlow is the definition of a possessive and vindictive ex-girlfriend.
He’d ruin me before I’d even realized it.
And I’m already broken enough. Lost with no destination in mind.
I haven’t forgotten his promise either.
I’m going to break you.
Break me how? Break the shell I’m hiding behind or break my hidden spirit?
I should probably be scared, I should probably already be running. I’m not. I won’t. I want to find out what he means.
I remember the hungry look in his eyes as I danced for him on the roof, how he fisted his hands at his sides as if that was enough restraint to keep him going after what he wanted.
Me.
I shift in my seat, squeezing my thighs together.
I’m in the middle of taking down notes of a painting when my ears are no longer full of angry, angst screams. Only the silence of an empty library.
Glancing up, my pen falls from my hand and rolls off the table.
I make no move to retrieve it.
I’m too busy staring at who’s sitting across from me.
Noah lounges in the vacant seat opposite of mine, with a leather jacket around his shoulders and a beanie pulled low over his head and a grin designed to melt panties.
Perfect.
He always looks perfect. Even his glasses sit aligned on the bridge of his nose.
Meanwhile, my hair is pulled up in a messy bun because it hasn’t been washed in two days and I’m pretty sure I have flecks of croissant from the pastry I ate earlier around the corners of my mouth.
All aboard the hot mess express, passengers: me.
“I’ve been looking for you.” Noah pulls me out of self-deprecating thoughts.
“I’ve been here.” I reach down to pick up my pen, ignoring his eyes following me as I do.
When I sit back up, it’s to see Noah’s putting one of my earbuds in his ear. A brow quirks up when he hears what’s playing.
“Interesting.” He drops the pod between us.
“Not what you expected?” I ask, reaching for it.
“I took you for a bubble-gum pop kind of girl.”
Now it’s me who raises a brow. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
He mulls over the words, a curious expression on his face. The intensity of the stare has me shifting in my seat. “I’m starting to see that.”
I don’t like how it feels as if he’s stripping me away piece by piece.
“What’re you doing here, Noah?”
“I came to see you,” he says it like it should be obvious.
“Why?” I ignore the thrill that shoots through me.
“We have unfinished business.”
My mind immediately goes to the roof. To the night I can’t get out of my head. “We do?”
Is it naive to think maybe he did feel something akin to what I did?
“Your sister is still gone.”
Apparently yes, it is.
Of course it’s about Harlow. That’s the only tie knotting Noah and me together. “I’ve already told you, Noah. I don’t know where my sister is.”
He doesn’t believe me. I see the disbelief in his hard face.
“I can promise you, whatever you think I know, I don’t.” My arms wrap around my waist.
“Just tell me what you know. It could be important.”
I stare at him. “Why?”
“Because your sister took something important from me and I need to get it back.”
“What is it?”
He tsks. “That’s not how this game works, Sayer.”
My head tilts in response. “I didn’t know we were playing a game. I thought you were here to disrupt my study time.”
“Just tell me what you know.”
“Why?”
“Why are you protecting her?” Add another emotion I bring out in Noah to the list. Frustration.
“Because I’m having fun riling you up.” I smile, feeling bold.
“That so?” His jaw ticks.
Almost in slow motion, Noah leans over the table, dropping a neatly folded piece of paper on top of my notebook.
He watches me expectantly when I don’t make a move to grab it.
“What’s that?” I ask, even though I have a pretty strong inclination.
“You have hands. Use them.” Noah leans back in his seat.
I press my lips into a thin line, keeping the words that I want to spit out at bay. “The last time I opened one of those from you, I almost fell off the roof. I don’t want a repeat of that.”
“It’s not a dare.” A pause. “Well, not exactly.”
That does nothing to soothe my worry. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement to get me to open it.”
“Just do it.”
I don’t. I flick it back to him. “Go home, Noah. Go anywhere that isn’t here and just leave me alone, please.”
“Can’t.” He leans back in the chair, hands fanned behind his head. “I need you.”
My thighs clench at his words, not understanding he doesn’t mean them in the way my libido wants. He needs me for information. Nothing more.
&
nbsp; “You’re turning me into a broken record left on repeat. I don’t understand why you aren’t listening to me.”
A dark look crosses his face. “Forgive me for having a hard time trusting the Brooks family.”
His words are a reminder of the past. A past I’ve long since separated from. “You know I had nothing to do with that.”
He shrugs. “Maybe, but I don’t trust anyone in your family.”
“It was my dad’s doing. I was still in high school!”
Slowly, like an idle cat, he unwinds from his relaxed position to lean across the table. “Doesn’t matter. You knew something then just like you know something now.”
“Just because my father kept you from buying a piece of property on the outskirts of town years ago doesn’t mean I knew about it. Or that I know anything now.”
A flicker of emotion dances across Noah’s face. Surprise. He looks perplexed. An emotion I’m sure that rarely finds a home on his striking features.
For a man who is always prepared, he seems at a loss of words right now. “That’s what they told you?”
“That’s what happened.” Now it’s my turn to be confused. “You guys were in court for months.”
Noah shakes his head with a curse under his breath. He looks back at me and gives a sharp nod. And without any hint of emotion. Back to the cool and indifferent steel of a man.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Curiosity has always been my downfall and I feel myself slipping now. “What exactly are you offering?”
“Help me drag out your sister.”
“Why?”
He stares at me like I’m an idiot. “I already told you, Sayer. And I really hate repeating myself, but for your small addled brain” —I glare at his insult— “allow me to remind you, she stole some very important documents from me that I need to get back. Quickly.”
“And how am I supposed to help?”
“What has always been Harlow’s downfall?”
“Uh.” It takes me a minute. She has a few. “Spite and jealousy?” I guess.
He jerks his chin, nodding. “I need to drag her out. And you’re the key to do that.”
Key. An interesting word when he’s really asking me to be his pawn.
“How?” I question cautiously. “How am I going to help you find my sister?” I know what this means, if I agree to help him I’m basically signing my sister’s death warrant.
Under the Lies Page 5
