by Faith Starr
Jordin stopped and touched my chest in the hallway. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes were apologetic.
“Don’t be. I’m here for your needs and your needs only tonight.”
Maybe bringing her to a play party hadn’t been such a great idea. This was all new to her. I had to give her time to process each observation.
When I nudged her forward to get her outside, she paused, this time closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. “Noah.” She looked pale. I scooped her up in case she fainted.
“Are you all right?”
Her cheeks had no color to them, but she was awake and alert. She nodded in my arms. “I think I just need a little orange juice or something to eat.”
Food and drink I could arrange. I carried her to the private elevator and entered my code. The door opened immediately, and we stepped inside. I pressed the button for the second floor, up we went.
“You can put me down now.”
Yes, I could but I didn’t want to. I wanted to take full advantage of having her in my arms.
“I think I’ll wait until you’re feeling better unless you don’t approve?”
She smiled graciously. “I approve.”
I thanked my lucky stars above.
Her face was temptingly close to mine. Something had to be wrong with my heart, because it sped up every time she was near me, especially when she regarded me with those big brown eyes like she was doing right now.
As much as I wanted to, it wasn’t the right time to make a move. My priority was to help her feel better.
My eyes caught sight of our reflection in the metal door. It was like I couldn’t escape it─I mean, her. And now I was experiencing another odd sensation, the desperate need for more oxygen. What the fuck? I wasn’t fifteen anymore.
Once upstairs, I managed to pull my keys from my pocket while still holding her. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and carried her over to the sofa where I carefully placed her down.
“Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”
She eyed me questioningly.
A minute later I returned with a cold towel, which I applied to her forehead.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
9
Jordin
The cold compress worked wonders. My head was still a bit foggy, but clear enough to notice Noah sitting next to me, dabbing the cool towel on my forehead.
“Where are we?” I tried to sit upright to get a better look at my surroundings but was unsuccessful. My head felt like it had been hit by a semi. I rested it back down on the cushy decorative pillow behind me.
“In my apartment.”
“You live in the club?”
“I live above the club. How’re you feeling?”
He gave me a once-over, but it definitely wasn’t in a flirtatious manner. It was more out of concern. I found it quite touching. “Kind of weak, still a bit dizzy.”
“You said you needed something to eat. Am I correct?”
“Yes. I’ve barely had a thing all day. I was about to prepare dinner when Tasha called and never got around to making it. My blood sugar probably dropped. It’s happened before. It’s nothing to worry about. I usually carry snacks in my purse to prevent this sort of thing, but I guess it slipped my mind today.” Yeah, because Noah had consumed it.
The shaking in my limbs was probably due to that as well. Or it could’ve been because here I was reclining on a couch in Noah Dorian’s apartment with his knee touching mine.
“I’m going to go and fix you something to eat.”
He stood, leaving the compress on my head, and my body already missing him.
“No. That’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’m sure a glass of orange juice will do the trick.” I didn’t want to put him out. I mean, it was bad enough I almost collapsed in his club. How humiliating.
“Jordin, you need to eat something. Why didn’t you eat today?”
“Because I was busy.” I sounded like Casey being defensive toward her father. I hated that arrogant tone of hers, and it sounded even worse coming out of my mouth.
“Too busy to take care of yourself? That’s not acceptable.”
Yes, father. Who the hell did he think he was? I was a grown woman, for gosh sakes. “To whom?”
“To me, that’s who.”
“What is it to you whether I eat or not?”
“Because I don’t enjoy seeing you practically lose consciousness. What if you had been alone or driving?”
He had me there.
“I’m going to go to the kitchen and get you some food while you relax here on the couch. I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you need me, just holler.”
He was back to being caring and sweet. It was getting difficult to keep up with him. He was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I never knew which one I was going to get.
My head still felt heavy when I tried to sit up. I rested it down again. In my comatose state, I surveyed the room. Holy cow. Marble floors, mirrored walls, projection television—this was straight out of Beverly Hills.
“I hope you like eggs and toast. It was fast and easy to make. I have the orange juice you requested as well.”
The wide grin he wore indicated he was thrilled with his gourmet masterpiece. It was absolutely adorable.
“I didn’t mean to put you through so much trouble, Noah. The orange juice would’ve been sufficient.”
“It was no trouble at all.”
With care, I sat up and he placed a tray full of goodies on my lap. Once he had me settled, he took a seat next to me, touching my body again. What was he planning to do, feed me? Now both my glucose level and blood pressure were going up.
“What about you? You didn’t make any for yourself?” There certainly wasn’t enough food for both of us, although I wouldn’t have minded sharing.
“Unlike you, I had all my meals today.”
“Trust me. I’m anything but food-deprived. I mean, look at me.” I gestured to my physique. Great, here I was a therapist making derogatory comments about myself.
“I am looking at you, and I like what I see. Don’t put yourself down in front of me. I don’t like it. If you want to help others, it all begins with taking care of yourself first.”
“I know. I usually don’t skip meals. I guess my day went from one thing to the next, and time somehow got away from me. Mmm, this is delicious.” Damn. He was smart, handsome, caring, and a great cook. Maybe I had blacked out because out of nowhere little purple hearts floated around him.
He smiled at my compliment. “So what is it you do with your time other than frequent my club?”
I swallowed the bite of eggs in my mouth. “I’m doing a part-time internship at a women’s clinic while finishing up my dissertation. That doesn’t leave much time for anything else.” I wiped my mouth with the napkin on my tray.
“When will you be completed with your program?”
“My dissertation and practicum requirements will be completed by the end of this school year. I then have to complete a one-year internship.” Yummy, toast lightly buttered, the best way.
“And may I ask why you chose the topic you did for your dissertation?”
Let the questions begin. I could always blame my foggy state if my answers didn’t sound as good as I wanted them to.
“Because it’s relevant to the work I do on a daily basis.” Straight up, good answer.
“Which is?”
“I work with abused women.”
“I see.”
My fork full of eggs stopped midair, I waited to see his reaction.
“And do you consider what’s happening downstairs a form of abuse?”
He leaned slightly forward, I’d say in anticipation of my answer, causing my fork to land back on my plate instead of in my mouth. I couldn’t clarify with a mouth full of food.
“Kind of, at least I thought so when I first began doing my research. When you see the information that’s out there and how it’s presented, it can come off to an outsider as a form of abuse.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back. It upset me to see him look so disappointed in me.
“And how do you feel about it now?” Mr. Eager watched me, waiting for a response.
“I’m trying to be open-minded. I’ve gathered a lot of useful information from anonymous questionnaires I’ve given to women who engage in the lifestyle, but even so, it’s different from seeing it firsthand. I can’t allow my beliefs to influence my research, which is why I asked you to let me visit the club. I needed a real-life perspective. It’s also been helpful that I’ve been able to interview some of your members.”
“A BDSM relationship isn’t abusive as long as it’s consensual, as I keep reiterating. That’s why there are safe words and limits. On the contrary, they’re all about pleasure.”
“And you like to participate in that type of pleasure?” Same big question, different context. I wanted to hear his reply again because I was falling hard and fast. I even had the scraped knee to prove it.
“I have and I do from time to time. You say you’ve never participated in that type of play. So then what is it you find pleasurable?”
My hands trembled. I hid them down by my sides.
“Feeling shy again?”
Darn, he noticed.
“Not used to the focus being on me.”
“I like my attention focused on you.”
“Why do you keep saying things like that?” I couldn’t help but feel defensive. I didn’t know if he just wanted to get me in his bed or if he wanted more. I knew what I wanted: all of the above.
“Like what?”
Come on. He couldn’t be that dense. “Flirty things.”
“Does it make you feel uncomfortable?”
“I feel like I’m getting mixed messages.”
“I think I’ve been very clear with my message.”
Here he goes again.
“You agreed to help me, which you are, and I truly appreciate it. But then you’ll say something completely off topic or personal. And then you kissed me. What the hell was that about?”
“Did you like when I kissed you?”
“That’s not the point!” Where were the answers I so desperately sought? The muscles in my hands squeezed with tension.
“What point are you trying to make, then?”
“I don’t know whether you’re trying to manipulate me into believing I’m something I’m not, or if you…like me. I’m confused.”
Breathe.
There. It was all out there. I had said it.
Why am I suddenly feeling dizzy again?
I took a big sip of my orange juice.
“I would never manipulate you into believing something about yourself that isn’t true. Things don’t always have to be so black-and-white. You of all people should know that. You interest me. Not many people do that.”
“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. Interest you how?”
H.O.W., meaning, for what reason, stems from the Old English word hū and Middle English howe.
Obviously Noah had never participated in a spelling bee. I couldn’t be any more precise.
“I find you stunning to look at. You’re quite a spitfire when you voice your opinions. You’re interesting.”
Me? Stunning? I had never been referred to as stunning before, cute maybe, but never stunning. Now I had no words, nor feeling, nor any movement in my limbs.
“Please eat.”
“I am. I also feel a lot better. I think I should go. I have an early start tomorrow.” I slowly stood, making sure my head was clear and my legs were strong. Both necessary to get me out of his apartment.
“I don’t want you to leave yet.” He reached out, grabbing my hand.
“I can’t stay here. I’m sure you’re used to having any woman you want drop at your feet in submission, but I’m not one of them.” I couldn’t do this right now.
“I’m not asking that of you. I just want to spend more time with you. That’s all.”
He still had my hand in his, gently brushing his thumb against it, looking up at me, vulnerability consuming him. Butterflies swirled around in my stomach. I knew if I stayed, I’d sleep with him. I couldn’t do that yet. Besides, my thoughts were scattered, and I couldn’t think clearly. I didn’t want to do something I would later regret.
“It’s getting late. Thanks for the eggs and for inviting me tonight.” I released my hand from his and began my walk to the door.
He rose and followed me, again, outwardly disappointed with a semipout. “Unfortunately, you didn’t get to speak with any of the members.”
“I guess I’ll have to come back for another visit, then.” I needed him to know I wanted to spend time with him as well. But not tonight. I craved space, and there was too much at risk if I stayed another minute longer.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“This really is a beautiful home.”
“I hope you’ll come again sometime.”
Me too. I nodded and smiled.
Once he locked up, he took my hand and led me to the elevator. It was like being in a spy thriller. He pressed codes and pushed buttons, kind of like a security chamber.
“Do you have neighbors?” There were other doors next to his.
“Yeah. Both Derek and Mitch live up here as well.”
“Convenient. Is it safe for me to say you don’t have to worry about rush hour traffic?”
He smiled, the door to the elevator opened.
It was a quiet ride down, my insecurities about what to say or do next getting the better of me. Downstairs, he guided me through the club and to the front entrance.
“Noah, where’ve you been? I’ve been searching this place high and low for you.” Derek approached hurriedly from the other end of the hallway.
“Jordin wasn’t feeling well. I got her something to eat.”
“She looks good to me.”
Derek again looked me up and down, but this time it was more friendly in nature, not at all flirtatious.
“What do you need?” Noah sounded bothered by this interruption. He shoved his hand in his pocket and sighed with impatience.
“We had a slight hiccup earlier.”
It was clear Derek didn’t want to say what it was in front of me. Noah now had an aura of concern around him, his eyes on his brother’s.
“Does it need my attention right this minute?”
“No. It can wait.” Derek raised his hand to pacify and assure him of that.
“I was just leaving anyway, you two go on ahead.”
“I’ll be right with you, D. Give me a minute to walk Jordin to her car.” Noah waved Derek off, we continued to the exit and outside to the parking lot.
“My car’s right over there.” I gestured. “I’ll be fine walking by myself.” There wasn’t enough air outside to fill my lungs. Noah’s presence suffocated me in the best way imaginable.
“Why’re you trying to run away from me?”
“I’m not.” Liar!
“You’ve been practically climbing out of your skin all night. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on.” I couldn’t talk about it anymore.
“Again, I disagree. You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t want to be done.”
Yeah, right. The damage had already been done.
“Thanks again for inviting me tonight and for feeding me.” This nervous habit of tying my fingers up in knots had to stop.
“Anytime. I look forward to doing it again soon.” He cradled my face and kissed my cheek.
I smiled, fidgeting with my keys to find the button on the key fob. I made eyes at him once inside my car. “Good night, Noah.”
“Good night, Jordin.”
10
Noah
She pulled out of the parking spot and drove away. I swiped my hand through my hair and went back inside the club.
Let’s see what fire I need to put out now.
While searching the place for Dere
k, I did a brief recap in my head about the night’s events. Jordin almost fainting wasn’t something I saw coming. If she was mine, she wouldn’t be neglecting herself like she was, too busy to eat, my ass. And why did she find fault with herself? She obviously didn’t see what I saw. She was breathtaking from head to toe. If I had my way, she would still be in my apartment. I enjoyed being with her, the childlike wonder she possessed whenever she set foot in the club, or near me, for that matter. She wore a mask of bravado, but I knew underneath it was an innocent woman trying to discover the world around her. Her untouched purity was captivating. She was still untainted by life’s experiences. For I all knew, I was completely off in my assessment, but my gut told me I was spot-on.
Derek was inside the dungeon, pretty much where I expected him to be.
“What the hell is wrong?” I whispered because members were finishing up.
“Mitch. That’s what the fuck is wrong.” He faced me so no one would see or hear what he said. “Why don’t we go to your office?”
Uh-oh. This was going to be bad. I nodded and led him there, closing the door behind us.
“What’s going on?” I strolled over to my desk and sat behind it. “Last I saw he was working the party.”
“Last you saw. That’s the problem.” He took his usual spot in the chair opposite my desk, crossing his leg over his knee.
“Give it to me straight, then. What happened?”
“I assume he was still pissed about our earlier discussion because he was hitting the bar during the party, which is off limits, and before I knew it, he was bombed. Evie said she tried to cut him off several times, but he wouldn’t listen to her. He physically went behind the bar to fetch his own drinks when she refused to serve him. I don’t get it. The guy rarely touches booze. But that’s beside the point. Either way, I can’t run the floors effectively with that type of shit going on.” His voice escalated as the story progressed.
Using my hand, I gestured for him to simmer down. “Where is he now?”
“I told the little shit to go upstairs and sleep it off.”
“I’m impressed.” Derek and I were like two peas in a pod, very similar in our thinking. It amazed me we weren’t actual brothers, let alone twins. “How did he take it?”