When they reached the mansion, Beverly helped her place her things in her room and actually kissed her forehead before trailing down the hallway to her room. For a moment, all Andie could do was to stare down the hall. She wondered if Jack knew she would be staying here with him. She turned, ready to head into the room—her room, however temporary—but something prevented her from doing so. She couldn't move, frozen in that moment. Something gripped her body in place, waiting for her to make the right decision.
Before she allowed pride or rationality or anything resembling the sanity that would proliferate her brain, she turned and, leaving her things in the doorway, walked across the hall and to Jack's room. She turned the doorknob without hesitating and pushed it in, giving a small squeak of relief to find it unlocked. With that, she all but dashed across the carpet to his California king bed and practically leapt on the sheets. Her head hit the pillows, the comforting scent of aftershave and spice she had missed so much since she left, since she had smelled it again when they had danced together, reaffirming just how much she missed him, came back to get her, along with the memories, along with the tiniest bit of information she had tried so hard to repress. And with all of that swimming around her, swimming inside her very essence, she could finally sleep.
10
When the two were back in Keirah’s car, Noir drove while Keirah sat in the passenger seat. She didn’t exactly mind; she had no idea where Noir wanted to go, and she didn’t exactly care. Instead, she simply rested her forehead on the cool glass of the window and allowed her eyes time to adjust to the pitch black night sky.
What time was it, anyway?
Like it mattered.
Keirah’s newly carved J caused her left cheek to pulse slowly, painfully, but she could feel that it was close to being numb once again. Speaking of which, Keirah reached up and looked at herself in the vanity mirror the car provided. Her mouth dropped open upon sight of it, and her brow furrowed.
Well, it didn’t look too bad …
She wanted to reach up and brush away the dried blood that crusted around the letter, but she didn’t want it to start bleeding again.
So, that was it.
But why a J?
She was the only person in the world who knew his first name. She knew that. Maybe it was symbolic, like it wasn’t the same Noir who had her in his grasp and refused to let go, but the man underneath all the shadows. The man she knew, somewhere deep down, loved her just like she loved him.
A vain part of Keirah balked at the sight of her mangled face, but its pleads with her to escape and get some help for it as quickly as she could went on deaf ears. She actually found herself drawn to it; he had literally marked his territory. Now, she couldn’t get some job because people would know just who she was and what she had done. The J would cause her to be rejected for jobs or schools she might want to apply for. It wasn’t like she could cover this sucker up.
But she didn’t want to.
And that was only if Noir was caught.
Keirah wasn’t stupid; he no doubt would be. There were times Keirah wondered if Noir secretly reveled in getting caught just so he could find some way to escape once again.
Why was he back anyway?
He probably had some unspeakable plan to cause hysteria among the masses while fucking with the people of Onyx and Commissioner Jarrett simultaneously. He seemed to really like those kinds of plans, and always had one tucked away from view underneath his sleeve.
But what plagued Keirah’s mind was why he wanted her, out of all the people and all the women he could surely get. She knew she was intelligent, but there was always someone smarter. She wasn’t bad looking, but there was always some more beautiful. She couldn’t fight or plan or do any bad guy sort of thing, not only because she didn’t believe in it, but because she didn’t know how to do those things. And she was sure there were other women who could benefit from such plans, get the same joy out of him.
Why her?
Oddly enough, Keirah wasn’t afraid of him. She had never really been afraid of the man, but she was fascinated by him. He always did something she never would have expected, and while he might have unnerved her, he never frightened her all that much. She had spent three months of her life with the man, day and night, and had managed to survive by his side up until their arrest and separation.
She frowned when she thought of it, their separation. It had been hard, extremely and unbearably hard. People were spouting off medical terms such as Stockholm Syndrome, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder … It was all bullshit to her. None of it was true, except maybe separation anxiety.
They had thought she was crazy. Maybe she was. But she didn’t necessarily mind.
And then she was placed into the Underwood Mental Institution in order for her to pass her class. It was a crap job, but it was probably the best one she could get. And she was grateful for it. Whenever she had thought about Noir, she tried to tell herself that she would never see him again, that he was locked up somewhere in isolation. And she probably would have liked to believe that.
But somewhere, deep down inside of her, she knew better.
Keirah didn’t know how it would come about, but she knew she would see him again. Maybe that’s what got her through her day, that unspoken knowledge that her dark knight would sweep her up in his arms and lead her back to their dysfunctional life. She might not get a happily ever after, but she would get a happily right now.
Even now, she could feel her feelings for the criminal coursing through her bloodstream, as though it was ingrained in her mind, body, and soul. Raw desire also left her frustrated that they had yet to actually consummate their relationship after a month of not seeing each other. She wanted to reach out and touch him and have him do the same to her until they were both breathless and fulfilled.
How could someone so dangerous cause all of these conflicting emotions?
It was a question that had no answer. Or maybe it did. Maybe it was the fact that he was so dangerous that caused such rampant feelings.
It didn’t really matter, the reason. All that mattered were that these feelings that had been brimming in the corners of her heart had suddenly sprang to life, now that he was back in her world, and in that moment, she knew she would never shake him. If, God forbid, something did happen and his life was taken, she would never be mentally, emotionally, or sexually satisfied with anybody else.
Noir was one of a kind, and that was why she loved him. Nobody could replace him.
She might be replaceable, but he wasn’t.
“Penny for your, hum … thoughts?” he asked, turning his head so he could look at her despite driving down the road.
She looked at him, his face intimidating due to the shadows that crisscrossed over his skin, but his gold eyes looked genuinely interested to know what was going on in her mind.
“Why did you come back?” The question slipped quietly out of Keirah’s mouth before she could stop it, but it was the question she wanted answered the most. So she looked at him with a passive face, tilting her head slightly to the side.
Noir glanced back at the road, but kept his gaze on her from the corner of his eyes.
“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone and let me live my life?” she continued, furrowing her brow. Her voice level had increased, but only slightly.
For whatever reason, this particular question seemed to amuse him rather than anger him. He threw his head back and let out one of those blood-curdling cackles of his. If Keirah hadn’t been so consumed with his current reaction, she might have been impressed at his noteworthy driving skills, despite being so focused on something else entirely.
“You’re mine,” he finally was able to say, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and Keirah shouldn’t have even questioned it. “And, uh, trust me, sweetheart. Your life, well, your life was meaningless before I came into it. I give you something to, hum … live for.”
“Oh?” Keirah asked, raising an eyebrow to inqu
ire further about the matter.
“Me,” he said, again, taking on a tone where Keirah should have known better. “You live for me, toots. I can still see, well, I can still see how you, hum … feel about me. It’s in your eyes.” Once again, Noir turned his head so he captured Keirah’s brown orbs with his gold ones. “They’re my favorite feature of yours, you know. They tell me everything I need to know that your lips won’t say.” He smacked his own lips together, glancing at the road before looking back at Keirah once again. “Although, when your lips do, uh, talk, I always love to listen to, well, to what they have to-ah say.”
At that moment, he made a sharp turn before turning off the headlights and silently rolling into a driveway that belonged to a mansion. It was then that Keirah realized they were in the outskirts of Onyx, a place only the very wealthy could afford.
Them, and very clever criminals, Keirah murmured inside of her head.
Though it was dark, she could clearly make out a white mansion in the middle of the grounds, and wondered if they were supposed to be robbing somebody right now.
“C’mon, dollface,” he said, shutting off the engine once he had pulled up to the driveway. “Let’s get you acquainted with your new home.”
Noir led Keirah into the unlocked door of the eighteenth-century styled mansion. She couldn’t help but be transfixed at such a sight. How did Noir afford all of this when he had only freed himself from the confines of Underwood Mental Institution not six hours ago? He must either have incredibly loyal henchmen or he had been planning this for a while.
But if it really was the latter, did that mean she had been part of the plan? Was he waiting for her to enter his cell and clean it? Did he even know she had a job there? He probably figured it out. The guards at the asylum were always chatting, and each one of them underestimated their prisoners. Even Noir was underestimated. But he used that to his advantage, obviously, and he was smart enough to have figured such a thing out.
She was part of his plan.
Was it wrong for Keirah to feel flattered?
Noir had his long fingers coiled around Keirah’s slender waist, knowing the layout of the premises by heart. He led her up the staircase which led to the west hallway. Down the hall they went, with Keirah’s wide eyes gazing at the paintings while Noir merely looked in front of him, unmoved by the artwork or the design or anything, really, that had to do with the house.
When they reached the entrance to the last room, Noir pulled Keirah so that she was in front of him before placing his hands over her eyes. “Now close your eyes, princess,” he said, his lips grazing the column of her throat.
She didn’t need to be told twice; she obeyed him quite willingly, swallowing in order to moisten her suddenly-dry mouth.
Noir smirked at her reaction to the closeness between the two. Goose bumps littered her body, and he was tempted to take her right there in the hallway. But he managed to control himself due to the fact that one of his henchmen might stumble upon them, and there was no way in hell he would ever allow someone who had seen his woman in a compromising position to live. Only Noir was allowed to see her completely bare, completely vulnerable.
“I have a surprise for you, sugar,” he announced in a low, articulate voice as he released her with one hand in order to open the door. The door squeaked open, and Noir placed his free hand on the side of Keirah’s waist, gripping it almost possessively. “Now, don’t peak.”
Noir led her into the dark room, quickly flipping on a light before replacing his hand on her waist once again. He led her over to a vast wardrobe before he finally relinquished control.
At least for now.
“You can, well, you can open them now,” he said, taking a step back in order to see her reaction.
Keirah blinked a couple of times, allowing her eyes to get used to the light in the room before her eyes focused on the wardrobe in front of her. She glanced over her shoulder at Noir, who urged her with a dismissive wave of his hands to open it.
Inside, there were more clothes than Keirah thought she would ever have, and when she looked at the sizes, she realized they would all fit. Everything was her size exactly. This wardrobe had been made with her in mind.
She really had been part of the plan.
Keirah wasn’t exactly sure how to react to something like this. She knew Noir could hardly be called romantic, so it probably wouldn’t do if she ran over to him and kissed him continuously. Instead, she decided to take a seat at the edge of the bed, trying to contain her rapidly fluttering heart.
It was then that she noticed there was only one bed.
Would she be comfortable sleeping by him due to the gap in their separation? Sleeping with him?
Sure, she desired him, but …
Did anything else really matter, then?
Before she could expand her thinking on the question, Noir took a seat next to her, his knee brushing her own. Despite the close proximity the two already shared, Noir coiled his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer to him.
Keirah loved the way he touched her. It was demanding and territorial, while there were times he was considerate and gentle. He was full of contradictions she hoped she would never figure out.
Without warning, Noir twisted his body so it faced Keirah, leaned in closely so the tip of his nose caressed the lower portion of her neck, and inhaled deeply. If her goose bumps had disappeared, the act was only temporary.
“I’ve missed your, hum … smell,” he told her in his dark, velvet voice. “All of them.”
He tilted his nose up, away from her neck so his lips could claim the soft skin.
Keirah felt a familiar pulsating start to hum from deep inside of her, and she tried to ignore it by gripping the bed sheets with her fingers. She clenched her teeth, refusing to allow any sort of sounds from slipping out.
She didn’t want this.
Oh yes, she did.
But she couldn’t let him think that she did.
“You can’t just walk back into my life, take me to some mansion, buy me some clothes, and then expect sex,” she said, trying to look him in the eye to ensure that her point would come across, but she seemed to be having a hard time doing so.
“Of course I can,” he told her. His eyes darkened as the corners of his lips twitched up. “And, uh, I intend to.” He leaned in even closer to her, his arm tightening around her waist as his fingers caressed mindless patterns underneath her shirt and onto her flesh. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been craving my, hum… body on top of you … inside of you …”
Without fully comprehending what she was doing, Keirah reached up and slapped him across the face. The act caught Noir by surprise, but he didn’t seem perturbed by it.
Not in the least.
Instead, he laughed as he forced her body to lie down. “I loooove when you put up a fight,” he said, making sure the last word was filled with bite. “But, ya see, I need to feel you, my love. Feel you from the inside. Feel your wet warmth around me. I need you right now.”
And just like that, she knew she would give him whatever he wanted.
When he was fully on top of her, he crushed his lips with hers, penetrating her mouth with his tongue. It was an absolutely necessary course of action due to the fact that he hadn’t tasted her in quite a long time. It wasn’t long before Keirah responded to his ministrations, and he smirked, even through the kiss. He knew she had wanted this for quite some time, just like he did.
They were both fucked up and they belonged to each other.
It wasn’t long before the clothes were shed, tumbling and falling on the floor in a decorative manner. Noir made it a point to leave no part of her skin untouched. Whether it was with his mouth or his fingers, it didn’t matter. He had to reacquaint himself with her body. It would be the only way his hunger for her could finally be satiated.
Until the next time, of course.
Her whimpers and her moans only added fuel to his fire.
But he hadn’t f
ulfilled either of their desires quite yet. He wanted to make sure he took his time, at least tonight.
He needed her. And he hated it.
Noir wrapped his fingers around her throat when they were in the middle of a long kiss, causing her to choke out. If she had been allowed to breathe beforehand, she might have had a chance to get used to the sensation, but he hadn’t allowed her that right. He watched her as she struggled against him and could pinpoint when her vision became hazy.
He didn’t think he had ever seen her more beautiful.
But it was when tears started to slip down her face that he was really knocked off his feet.
“Oh babe,” he said, keeping his grip on her neck but leaning down so as he spoke, his lips vibrated on her clear cheek. “You’re so pretty when you cry.” At that moment, he finally released her neck, but not before slapping her across her marked cheek, causing the fresh wound to open. “But you’re, hum … sexy when you bleed.” His lips sought out the wound he had inflected on her, and his tongue welcomed the crimson liquid that began to slowly seep out of her cheek.
It was quite an erotic experience, for as the first drop of blood reached the tip of his tongue, Noir thrust into Keirah.
She wasn’t exactly sure if she should laugh or cry at the action, but she knew she wanted more of it. She reached up and buried her fingers in his hair, forcing his lips to capture hers so she could taste her own blood on his lips.
Noir knew just what she was doing, which turned him on even more than he thought possible.
It was painful, and Keirah was sure she would be sore in the morning, but for whatever reason, the pain turned into pleasure. With every thrust, her hips would reach up and match it. Her legs, coiled around his waist, tightened every time he hit her sensitive area. Her eyes, closed in ecstasy, caused him frustration, however.
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