Sterling

by Willow Summers

  He grinned and texted back. You’re seriously creepy.

  No, creepy would be texting you from a throwaway phone so you didn’t know who it was. This is just fun.

  He laughed and shook his head, looking at the windows of her house. With the reflection, though, he couldn’t make out if someone was behind the glass.

  Nope.

  He scanned the bushes in her front yard.

  Getting closer.

  He was grinning like a lunatic.

  While you look, is your father still pissed at you?

  He walked in the direction of her parents’ house.

  That’s cheating! she texted, right before she dropped out of the tree in the front yard.

  Her hair was back in a ponytail, her eyes were sparkling with excitement and mischief, and she wore a T-shirt that said, In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

  “Hey,” she said, half sauntering, half bouncing up to him. “How goes it?”

  He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a kiss. “My dad is still pissed at me, yes. But last night, after I got home, he told me he just wants me to be happy. So that’s nice.”

  “If it’s nice, why doesn’t your voice sell it?”

  “Because then I got a lecture about how unhappy I would be without a future.”

  She laughed and pressed her forehead to his chest. “We’ve reversed roles. My mother thinks she’s some sort of power matchmaker. She couldn’t be more pleased that she ‘landed’ Noah Arnold for me. And more good news—Ellen stopped talking to me. I mean, first she screamed that I would end up heartbroken and alone, but after that, blessed silence.”

  He stroked her hair. Before they left, he should tell her about BD. He should lay it all out, and let her make an informed decision.

  His gut pinched and nervousness stole through him. What if she said no? She’d trusted him about the unfounded high school rumors, but maybe this would cause her to reconsider. To maybe think that he’d started as a slut, then turned into a hooker.

  His character would be called into question, and the evidence was severely stacked against him.

  He blew out a breath. “When are you thinking of leaving?” he asked, not able to muster up the courage just yet. He needed advice from the girls on how to best break the news. They’d know what to do. After all, they’d all gotten past it.

  “I was in the front yard, hiding in a tree.” She leaned back so she could make eye contact. “I’m ready. Past ready. Impatiently waiting. Oh, and by the way, Aunt Bessie wasn’t kidding. She can actually walk. She gave me a demonstration, then started her spiel about how willing she is to go into domestic servitude. Also about building an attic. And something about chains, but I’d started edging away by that point.”

  “Bessie walking is big news,” he said, “but listen to this. After we left yesterday, my dad and Jim started talking. About me, of course, but also about you. Go figure. And guess what, lucky lady?”

  “No.”

  “You have a job waiting for you, should you want it.”

  Her smile ruined the dramatic furrow between her eyebrows. “I’ll only take it if I can work directly with Jim. Within touching distance. That’s the only way.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. I’m sure he’d make time just for you.”

  “Awesome. Where do I sign?”

  He laughed and kissed her before shifting his gaze to her beat-up, old car. “Is that thing going to make it?”

  “What?” She stepped back and gave him side eye. “Of course Noisy Bertha will make it. She’s way more steadfast than your hunk of junk. Speaking of, I can’t believe I had sex in a beige car.”

  “It’s a Range Rover, not a car, first and foremost—”

  “Snob.”

  “—and second, get your eyes checked. It’s black.”

  “The interior is beige. Beige is for rich people with no personalities.”

  “Is that right?” He braced his hands on his hips. “What color are your seats, then?”

  “Speckled blue. Speckled because of the many stains. I call that character.”

  “You should call it gross.” He shook his head and held out his hand. “Give me your phone, and I’ll plug in the address. That way you can stop by your storage facility, and I can beat you home to tidy up all my dirty laundry.”

  Eighteen

  Cynthia’s heart was in her throat as she pulled onto Noah’s street with a car full of clothes, knickknacks, and other things she wanted with her now that she was out of her mother’s house. She trusted that Noah wouldn’t throw her fun little things in the trash, assuming they were merely clutter.

  She slowed in front of a large house with stone facing and big windows in a nice part of Sacramento. The street had manicured lawns, some with blindingly white picket fences, and a few “slow children playing” signs.

  Cynthia always giggled when she read that sign—there was no comma after “slow,” so it sounded informative rather than a warning to watch out for kids.

  Noah’s Range Rover wasn’t in the driveway, and she hoped this wasn’t all a bizarre practical joke.

  After parking and getting out of the way for a Mercedes to roll past, she pushed open the squeaking door and climbed out, unreally nervous. This was a crazy setup. She would be living in his house—but not specifically living with him. Roommates. Except she would take every opportunity to strip him naked.

  She really hoped he was serious about the whole exclusive thing. She also hoped that exclusive meant the same thing for him as it did for her.

  Grabbing just her purse, she closed the door and smiled at a woman passing by with an off-leash Lab. The dog’s tongue lolled out as it padded along happily.

  Noah’s yard didn’t have a picket fence. Just a well-trimmed yard parted by a paved pathway lined with flowers, leading to two steps and a well-tended stoop surrounded by shrubbery. She rang the doorbell with a shaking hand.

  Why did this feel like such a big step in her life? She’d lived with guys before. Romantically. And she’d learned to get the hell out at a moment’s notice as soon as things soured. She didn’t believe in feeling stuck.

  So why did it feel like she’d never leave—that she’d have to look into building an attic for her crazy great-aunt?

  The door opened, and there he was, broad, built, and incredibly handsome. Noah’s smile made her heart swell.

  “Hi,” she said like a dummy, nothing else coming to mind.

  “Welcome to your new home.” He stuck out his hand for her to take, inviting her in. “I will be your tour guide, and then I’ll let you get set up.”

  “Is all the laundry cleared away? Because I can’t be in here if there’s dirty laundry lying around. It will affect my delicate sensibilities.”

  He laughed and closed the door behind her. “Everything is tidy. But not too tidy. So you can see what you’re getting into.” He entwined his fingers with hers, and the delicious electricity she was coming to expect from him zipped up her arm and hummed deep in her body.

  They passed through the foyer—a well-lit, welcoming space with high vaulted ceilings and well-placed plants—into a huge great room. She stopped up short. “Wow,” she said on an exhale.

  The ceiling reached all the way up to the second floor, with windows on the bottom floor and another set way up high, letting in a lot of light. The stairway could be seen against the back wall, closed off by banisters. The entrance to it was clearly somewhere else in the house, because it didn’t touch down in this front room. A large fireplace sat off to the side, and it was furnished with a couch, two chairs, and a piano.

  “This is something, Noah. It’s beautiful. Do you play the piano?” She eyed the decorative pictures climbing the wall between the sets of windows.

  “No, but I’ve always wanted to. I got a deal on it, and I had room for it, so I just went with it. You?”

  “No, but I wish I could, too. If only I’d realized that in my youth when my mother forced me to take piano lessons so
I could impress the men-folk someday.”

  “Your mother is a trip.”

  “Your mother is June Cleaver. We’re totally even there—neither of our mothers lives in these modern times.”

  “Agreed.” He draped his arm around her as they continued onward. Next was another sitting room with three striped chairs arranged around a small round table. Behind the clustered furniture was a large china cabinet thing with an embedded wine cooler, wine racks, and bar items. An array of glasses hung from a place in the middle.

  “Do you have a lot of parties here? Or…well…parties for three people, since that’s how many chairs there are…facing each other.” She turned to take in the rest of the room. “Ah. There’s a couch and chair back there. And another fireplace. Wow. This place is set up. I love the stone.”

  He laughed. “No, actually, to the party question. My friends tend to congregate at Colton’s house. I thought maybe we’d head over there tomorrow if you’re willing.”

  “Is his house bigger than this one?”

  “Yes. One more bedroom. But it’s not as new and modern, so I’m feeling pretty good about where I stand. Especially now.” He gave her a small squeeze, spreading tingles through her body. It sounded like he was talking about her.

  Barely able to control the nervous excitement about what was happening—he seemed to like her as much as she was digging him!—she caught sight of a painting.

  Her mouth dropped open. “No way! You bastard.” She dragged him forward to look at it more closely. “That isn’t a Chris Perrin, is it?”

  He stared at the painting in confusion, then his expression cleared. “Chris Perrin, right. The alias name. Yes, that’s her.”

  “Chris is a her? I didn’t know that. How do you know it’s an alias? And how much did you spend on this? Because I put in at least ten bids for paintings from that show this summer, and I didn’t win a single one.”

  He gave her a sly smile she couldn’t read. “I called in a favor.”

  “You bastard,” she said again, looking over the abstract. It was raw and edgy and freaking awesome. She got lost in the look of it, and the emotion it conveyed. It reminded her of love. Deep, toe-curling love. “I hope you have another favor outstanding, because I really want one.”

  “I’m sure I can figure something out. C’mon.” He herded her into the kitchen. Granite, new appliances, and a jutting bar closed it off from an eat-in setup—a small glass table and chairs in front of windows that overlooked the backyard.

  “I am in heaven. This place is gorgeous.” She let him walk her on. “I notice you haven’t said one word to try and sell it. Clearly you know it sells itself.”

  “Yep. I’m just enjoying your reaction. I loved it as much as you seem to.”

  “I mean, who wouldn’t?” He pushed open a door to a spacious hallway. “Stop it. No. Just stop it.”

  Deep, built-in reddish wood bookcases that extended from one end of the far wall to the other. A desk set was positioned toward the front of the room, topped with a laptop and a mess of papers—“I see a shocking lack of Post-it notes on there”—and a comfortable reading chair sat in the corner. “This is heaven.”

  “It gets better.”

  He pulled her back out and continued along the hallway. Down a little farther, a glass door led to a glass-walled room housing a hot tub.

  “This is unreal.” She tore away and walked back toward the kitchen. The stairs were on the other side.

  “How many rooms?” she asked as they climbed the stairs. She paused to look down on the front room.

  “Four. I’m not counting the office.”

  “Good gracious. Our parents’ houses aren’t anywhere near this nice.”

  “Our parents live in a very expensive part of the state. This house would be millions there.”

  She shook her head, because that was probably true, as they reached the landing, where another couple of chairs were set up next to some plants and a curved wall embedded with windows. It was the only strange thing in the house, so she didn’t mention it.

  Onward to the mostly sterile guest rooms, and then she was in his master suite—the room giant, the bathroom what house hunters’ dreams were made of. “Oh, this tub. I would spend hours in this tub.”

  “You will spend hours in this tub, you mean. This is your house, too, Cynthia. As long as you want to stay. Use whatever you want, whenever you want. Treat it as your own.”

  She pulled back a curtain on the door leading outside, revealing a large covered balcony with patio furniture. “I’m blown away,” she said as she felt his arms wrap around her middle. “Noah, I am honestly blown away. This house is a dream.”

  He nuzzled into her neck. “I’m glad you like it.”

  She let her head fall to the side as his hands spread out on her stomach and drifted downward.

  “Do you want to unpack your car and set up your room?” he asked against her neck.

  She let out a long sigh as his hands dipped under her T-shirt and onto her stomach. She felt his hardness pressing into her and his heat enveloping her.

  “Later.” She turned and looped her arms around his neck. He leaned down to her eagerly, his lips finding hers. His taste thrilled her. Drove her wild.

  The world dropped away, something that seemed to happen whenever she was with him. She pulled tighter on his neck, needing him closer.

  He swung her up into his arms before walking toward the large bed. Once there, he set her down, letting her body slide down his. Her shirt drifted up her stomach, and he reached down to grab the hem and pulled it over her head.

  “Hmm,” she said as he reached down to grab her butt and pull her tightly against him. She fisted his hair and dragged his lips to hers again, plunging her tongue into his mouth as she wanted him to plunge into her body.

  He unhooked her bra, groaning into her mouth. His hand snaked between them, removing the bra, and he took a budded nipple between his fingers. Pleasure pierced right down to her core.

  “Hurry, Noah. Fuck me.” She ripped at his clothes and yanked at his belt. Urgency drove her, control long since abandoned.

  He undid her pants and pushed them and her underwear down. When he came back up, she did the same to him, watching as his large erection sprang free. Without thinking, she grabbed it around the base, still kneeling, and sucked it in. She took as much as she could take, stroking it as she sucked, before trying a little more.

  “Oh Cynthia,” he exalted, running his fingers through her hair and leaning his head back. His body flexed, the muscles perfect and defined, the best show in town.

  She bobbed on his cock, the rhythm fast. Her need making her wild.

  As if realizing her state, he reached down and grabbed her by the upper arms. In one fast movement, he lifted her and threw her onto the bed. She landed on her back, limbs flopping to the side. He climbed up after her before settling himself between her spread thighs.

  “Yes, Noah. Fuck me,” she begged, squeezing him tightly with her thighs and arching her back. His velvety shaft rubbed against her center. A low moan sounded in his throat.

  His tongue plunged into her mouth as he rocked forward, teasing her with the contact. He pulled back with his hips as he eased the intensity of the kiss, now sucking and nibbling. When his hips rocked forward again, his kiss deepened, dragging her under to a place with no words. No thoughts. All she could do was feel. His touch. His body. His heat against her skin.

  Before she knew what she was doing, she tilted her hips as he slid upward, catching his tip just right. He thrust into her, filling her. “Oh yes,” she said, her body on fire, her breath quickening.

  Another groan sounded as he retreated, the friction of his retreat sending waves of pleasure through her. Her core throbbed; she wanted him hard and fast. Wanted all of him.

  When he was nearly out, he hesitated for a brief moment, and she wasn’t sure if he’d pull back. But that one moment was all he took before he thrust back in with abandon, like he’d hear
d her thoughts. Like he could read her every wish and desire.

  “Cynthia,” he said, grabbing her hands and pushing them above her head. His hips rocked in and out, pumping the pleasure higher, tightening her body almost to the point of pain. “This feels better than anything in the world.”

  She gyrated her hips up to meet his thrusts. Kissed him with everything she had.

  The passion rose. He slid into her, harder. The bed rocked under them.

  “Yes,” she said, everything tight. His body flexed, sensations battering her. Overwhelming. So damn good. “Yes!”

  He rose a little and pumped harder, ramming into her. Hitting a new angle at just the right time. She surged past the orgasm she’d almost had, arriving at an almost painful level of pleasure—something she’d never experienced before. Words stopped making sense. Guttural sounds took over.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, soaking in it.

  He called her name one last time, and she exploded. Shattered into pieces. The orgasm shook her to her core, body and soul. Tore at her in the best of ways. She cried out, freeing her hands so she could clutch him and pull him closer. Noah shuddered against her, his groan long and low.

  An aftershock gave her another jolt before all the stress and tightness left her muscles. She melted down onto the bed and closed her eyes, happy and satisfied, his weight on her.

  “That was”—he kissed along her jaw—“incredible, Cynthia. You are so passionate. It’s…”

  “You make me this passionate. I can’t seem to hold on to control around you.”

  He kissed her languidly. “What do you think about a catnap, then maybe a quick skinny dip in the hot tub? And food. Somewhere in there we need food.”

  “And more sex.”

  “Yes, definitely more sex. You’ll need to bring your things in and get your room set up…”

  “I wouldn’t think Mr. Confident Noah Arnold would be afraid of asking a girl to sleep with him.” She grinned.

  “I’d rather not step over any lines with you. You beat up boys. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “This is true. You’ve been warned.” She waited for a moment, not answering the question. Letting him stew. Finally, she said, “Sure, I’ll sleep with you.”