by M. Leighton
Not that a kiss is the same as sex, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had that kind of contact, and I’m really starting to like Noah.
A lot.
I crave something more. Something more physical, more demonstrative. More…intimate.
When I go out to meet him after work, we trade our normal greetings—a polite “Hi” from each of us—and then I, for once, am the one who falls immediately into silence.
Two things are going through my head. First is Tilly’s advice about kissing Noah. If it’s going to happen, I suppose I’ll have to be the one to instigate it, but just the thought of putting myself out there that way…
I can almost feel the cold sweat gather on my palms. Thank God he’s not into holding my hand or they’d be a dead giveaway that I’m stressing over something.
The other thing I keep thinking about is Noah telling me that he wants to know what I’m thinking. Maybe he really does. Maybe he’s waiting for me to give him some sort of sign. The thing is, Noah doesn’t know how completely inept I am at this. What kind of sign should I be giving that I’m not already? Am I supposed to shoot a flair into the sky? Light the bat signal? Blow an Aboriginal mating horn? Fake a fall and hope he catches me? What? What the hell am I supposed to be doing? Someone needs to tell me because I don’t have a clue.
At my building, we repeat our evening ritual. We’re so predictable it’s almost comical.
“Well, thanks for walking me home again.”
“Don’t you ever get a night off?”
I don’t tell him that I took on a couple of extra shifts because I knew he’d be there to walk me home. I mean, I can always use the extra money, but…
“I’ll be off for the weekend.”
“Good. It’s not healthy to work so many days without a break.”
I nod, having no idea what to say to that. “Well, I guess this is goodnight then.”
“Same time tomorrow?”
“Same time tomorrow,” I repeat.
He has already turned to walk away when my brain finally kicks in. “Oh wait! I work a double tomorrow, so I’ll probably get off at seven because I work morning shift the day after that. There’s a pregnant girl at work and she—” I stop myself with a shake of my head. “Never mind. I just wanted you to know I’ll be leaving early.”
Noah nods. “Okay, so I’ll be there at seven instead of eleven.”
“K.” I smile and nod, too, mentally willing him to come back and kiss me. I’ve never wished for the power of suggestion until this very moment.
Only I don’t have that power and he doesn’t try to kiss me.
Are you kidding me?
Something in me snaps.
He’s halfway down the first set of steps when I stop him again.
“Noah?”
His head jerks back and he pins me with those glorious eyes. I start toward him before I can change my mind, walking quickly down to meet him on the stairs.
I stop on the step above his and stare down at him. The blue of his irises has been overtaken by swollen pupils and his eyes are the black, black, black of the night outside.
I’m on his level now, nose to nose, and my heart is racing like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind howling at my back, uncertainty swirling all around me. Chills break out down my arms, but I wrap them around his neck anyway, pressing my chest to his.
“Last week you said you wanted to know what’s going through my head,” I remind him. “This. This has been going through my head since the day you walked into the diner.”
I mash my mouth to his. Hard. We both just sort of stand there, smooshed together, taken by surprise. I wait for several seconds, hoping he’ll take it from there before I wither up and die. When he doesn’t, I start to lean away, humiliation ready to burst forth and drown me. But before I can turn and run back to my apartment with my tail between my legs, Noah brings one big hand to the back of my head, stilling me.
Wordlessly, he watches me. Seconds pass. Or days. I can’t be sure which. Time ceases to exist, to even matter when he looks at me.
A few achingly slow heartbeats thump by before he tilts his head and leans in, softly brushing his lips over mine.
Finally.
I exhale the breath I’d been holding. I was so nervous, I don’t think I’ve breathed since I opened my door.
But I’m breathing now. Breathing him in, gulping in this moment, tucking it into some treasured corner of my soul.
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, memorizing the scent of his soap, the smell of his skin. Reveling in the hint of peppermint and nighttime leeching from his lips onto mine.
Back and forth, he rubs his mouth over mine, coaxing it open with a sexy artfulness I didn’t think men really possessed. At least not in real life.
But Noah does.
He works my needy flesh like he knows it better than I do. His tongue whispers over the edge of my bottom lip, breezes past the inside of my top one, and teases along the side of my own until a groan bubbles up and out of my throat, unbidden.
I melt against him, my torso conforming to his as he supports me with his strong arms. I’m not thinking. I’m not worrying. I’m not planning. I’m simply lost, lost to the storm of sensation he’s stirring up within me. It’s building, the energy, and I know I’m just getting a taste of the tropical storm I knew this man would be. Beautiful chaos lies at his center. I’m absolutely certain of it.
And absolutely drawn to it already.
I thread my fingers into the cool strands of his longish hair, fisting them to hold him close, and I throw myself into what’s growing between us. I want more of this. I want more of him.
I want all of him.
I slick my tongue along his, delving in to explore the hot cavern of his mouth. I press closer, closer, closer, hating that there’s air and clothes and this little bit of space between us.
A groan of his own rumbles through his chest, vibrates from his tongue to mine, and he crushes me to him, deepening the kiss. Noah plunders my mouth, stealing my breath and my will. His hunger…it’s formidable, and it causes an answering one to echo through me.
He licks and bites at my lips, dragging me further and further under his spell. I never expected this kind of passion from him in just a kiss, never imagined that this is the reaction I’d get. I’m breathless and achy, on fire with this crazy want of him.
Noah’s fingers wind into my hair and tug, forcing my mouth away from his and exposing my neck to his sensual assault. He spreads the heat of his kiss down my throat, sucking at the beat of my pulse there, his free hand wandering down my back. His fingers skim the side of my breast, sending an electric jolt skittering through me. My nipples pebble in response and I arch into him.
He moves on to cup my hip, stepping up onto the riser where I’m standing, turning us enough that he can pin me to the wall. Then his mouth is back on mine and he hikes up my leg, wrapping it around him, opening me to more of his body, to the tempest he’s created.
I gasp when he flexes his hips, pressing the ridge of his erection into the apex of my thighs. Delicious waves of need ripple through me.
“Oh, God! Oh, God!” I pant, holding him close with the leg he’s hooked around him.
He moves subtly against me, short pulses that edge me higher and higher. I’m so sensitive, I’m burning with so much need, the slightest movement is just enough to push me up and up and up.
I’m barely clinging to sanity when I feel the nip of his blunt teeth on my chin. Shockwaves ricochet from the lick of his apologetic tongue to the place where I need it most, like he’s touching both at the same time.
I open my eyes to find Noah staring at me, pure lust in his eyes.
“Do it,” he rasps, circling his hips against mine. “Please.”
His fingers dig into my hip, holding me still, and he bends his knees, sliding up and over me in one smooth motion. The friction, from my nipples to my center, is too much. It’s just too much.
Air
ceases to flow.
Time stands still.
One heartbeat.
Two heartbeats.
Three.
Then a pause.
And I’m imploding. Shattering. Coming apart.
Liquid heat pours through me, coursing through my veins, filling up all the empty spaces with the exquisite throb of my release. My muscles tense for a moment and then I go completely limp.
Noah shifts until the hard width of his thigh is angled against me. With his hands on my hips, he rocks me gently on him, stimulating me just enough to keep the waves coming, only slower, slower, slower, until my feet are touching the earth again.
Eventually, strength and sensation are restored to my legs. When my vision clears and my breathing returns to normal, I let my forehead drop onto Noah’s shoulder. The aftermath of orgasm gives way to the arrival of embarrassment as my brain comes back online. I keep my eyes squeezed shut.
I bet neither Simone nor Tilly has ever done anything so utterly shameful, and I find myself wishing I could crawl into a hole and die.
Noah starts to ease back, but I hold him close, not ready to face him just yet. He waits for several more seconds and tries again. When I persist in hiding, he wraps both arms around me, lifts me off my feet, and carts me back up the stairs.
He carries me through my still-open apartment door and kicks it shut behind him. All the while, I keep my face buried in the curve of his neck, refusing to come up until I have to.
Finally Noah stops, stooping until my feet touch the floor.
I say nothing, just cling to him, wishing for death to overtake me before I ever have to meet his knowing cerulean eyes again.
But I’m not that lucky.
He untangles himself from me, gently forcing me to let him pull away. I do, but I keep my head bowed. I can already feel the sting of my earlier actions burning across the skin of my face.
“Poppy, look at me,” Noah requests quietly.
I shake my head. “Just go, please.”
“Poppy, look at me,” he implores again.
I ignore him, even though a part of me goes mushy at the sound of my name on his wicked, wicked lips.
Finally, I feel a finger at my chin. I let him raise my head, but I still don’t open my eyes. I can’t. I just can’t face him.
“Can I tell you something?”
His voice is soft, kind. It almost makes me feel worse, more pathetic.
I don’t answer.
Lips graze the corner of my mouth. I feel them move as he speaks. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Oh, God!” I wail, turning away to slap my hands over my flaming face. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
I’ll have to move now. Relocate. Somewhere far, far away from here. Like witness protection, only for the witless. The wretched. Simone will kill me, of course, but she may understand why I can never see this man again. Surely even she would never do something like this.
“I can’t either, but I’ll never be able to forget it. The look on your face…Christ Almighty! I’ll have a two-hundred-dollar water bill from cold showers.”
I laugh in spite of myself. “You and me both. Once the humiliation wears off.”
And that’s the truth. Thinking about him kissing me that way, touching me like he did… I have to admit, it was pretty hot.
But I’m still mortified.
“You might be evil.”
At that, I jerk my head around and my eyes fly open. “Huh?” He’s standing so close I could count the dozens and dozens of his thick black lashes if I had the time.
His hands make their way cautiously around me, resting lightly at my waist. “I said you might be evil.”
A small smile is playing with one corner of his mouth. Another face to this breathtaking man, only this one is lighthearted, flirtatious.
“And why is that?”
“Because now, on top of that amazing performance in the stairwell, I’ll be plagued by images of you replaying it when you’re lying in bed at night. Or when you’re getting dressed. Or when you’re in the shower.”
Oh, God!
My insides are well on their way to catching fire again.
“I’d give just about anything to see that,” he adds huskily.
His eyes are still nearly black pools—the ocean in the middle of a moonless night—telling me that he is still very much in the moment. That he means what he says. That he still wants me.
“Well, I have to recover from this time first.”
He gives me an exaggerated sigh, his hands moving around to play at the curve of my lower back. “I guess I can wait.”
“Thank you.”
I want him. God, how I want him. But I also need him to go. This has been so much, and I’m still fighting the urge to change my name and move to Germany.
“Tomorrow?” he asks, placing a chaste kiss on my cheek.
“Tomorrow,” I grudgingly confirm as he eases away.
I feel the loss of him instantly—the heat of him, the closeness of him, the gravity of him. I wrap my arms around myself to fend off the chill of his absence.
I watch him walk to the door of my tiny apartment. He makes it seem even smaller somehow, his presence as big and beautiful as the man himself. I know it won’t be the same once he’s gone. He belongs here. With me.
I can feel it.
“Sleep well,” I lob at his back before he disappears through the door.
“If I sleep at all. ”
I hear his throaty chuckle, which I answer with a smile he can’t see, and then, with a click, I’m all alone.
8
Noah
I jump when my phone buzzes. Guilty conscience, I suppose. My mind has been on Poppy, mostly in ways it shouldn’t be.
I pick up my phone, lowering the lid to my laptop as I do. “What’s up?” I ask my partner James Gregory.
I’ve known Gregory for years. Carly and I met him at a function back when we were all new to the Bureau. Our paths crossed a few times. We hit it off, stayed in touch. He went through an ugly divorce and came to work the Maryland office for a while. That’s when we became friends. We’re partners now, but I still don’t tell him everything, like the fact that I’m sitting in my apartment working every possible lead in my search for Carter Finch. In between instances where my mind wanders off to Poppy, that is. I don’t tell him any of that.
After I lost Carly, they took me off Finch’s case. Said I was too close, too involved. Of course I’m close! Of course I’m involved! He’s the man who took everything from me.
Every. Single. Thing.
That’s why I’m so close. That’s why I’m so involved.
They see it as a liability.
I see it as motivation.
They think my request to transfer to Chicago was solely related to a desire to get away from Maryland and all its bad memories. Not so. At least not entirely. In my spare time, I’m still hunting a killer, a rapist, one who could possibly be hunting me in return. His trail led me here. Something is going on in Chicago and I’m going to find out if it has anything to do with Carter Finch. If it does, I’ll find out, and I’ll find him. I’ll find that man if it’s the last thing I do in life.
“Trail’s cold. Cold as damn ice.”
“How can that be? That makes two of them. Just gone. Off the grid. And we both know neither Jeffries nor Callum are in control enough to manage that. Psychopaths like them don’t just stop. What gives?”
I hear his sigh. It mirrors my own. Sometimes this job can be frustrating as hell.
“I don’t know. Both their patterns showed escalation. For them to just disappear…”
Serial killers and a lot of serial rapists escalate, cycle up. Their urges become so strong that they have to have more, and faster. We’ve been tracking two psychopaths who just fell off the grid before we could get them. Without a trace. And that’s highly unusual in people with their psychopathy.
They both fell of
f the grid after being traced to the Chicago area, and they’re both men that share a lot in common with Carter Finch.
“Where did that last lead come from? The prostitute? The one who managed to gouge Callum’s eye out before she got away?”
“She swears she isn’t a prostitute.” I can almost hear the roll of his eyes. “But no, this lead came through a ‘dating service’.”
His tone is dry. A shit ton of web based “dating services” are just fronts for prostitution rings. That’s where a lot of serial rapists and even a few serial killers are getting their victims. This is the digital age. You can shop for and obtain almost anything online. Even human targets.
“Send the information to my phone. I’ll get Winston to get me into the site through a back door so I can nose around.” Winston is an IT whiz who also works with the Bureau. I’ve known him for years, too, and I trust him.
“I hate doing that computer shit. Better you than me.”
“I’ll let you know what I find.”
We hang up. I check my watch. I’m happy to see that it’s almost time. I unplug my laptop and scoot it under the sofa. I can dig into prostitutes and shady dating services later tonight. Right now, I’m more interested in seeing Poppy.
* * *
Thursday nights are always slow at the diner, which is nice since every other evening is pretty much slammed. Poppy can come by my table more often, which I like. But even when she’s not with me, I enjoy watching her, listening to her.
She’s had a flush to her face since I got here. It’s not only flattering, but sexy has hell. It’s like she’s constantly revisiting last night and then blushing because of it. And I’d wager that’s exactly what has prompted the color. I know because I’ve thought of it no less than a hundred times since I left her last night.
And that might be a conservative estimate.
My eyes are on her to the exclusion of everyone else as she cashes out a ticket. Her fingers move over the screen with an absent-minded competence that says she’s done this dozens of times before and could do so a million more without giving it much thought. She chats easily with Tilly, who glances over at me as much as Poppy does, making me wonder what Poppy told her.