After Midnight

by Grimm, Sarah

  As if he could.

  He kissed her long and deep as he moved over her, slowly sliding in and out of her with a rhythm that grew in speed and urgency. Driven by insatiable hunger, he slid deeper. Moved faster. Harder. Her hips moved in time with his, arching up to meet his every stroke.

  Reaching up, he removed her hand from his face and positioned her arm over her head. Their fingers linked, her nails bit into the back of his hand as he drove them both higher. A helpless little moan slipped from the back of her throat. Her head rocked back into the pillow as her sheath clamped tightly around him.

  The look of her, hair tangled, cheeks flushed, and pale blue eyes dazed and locked with his pushed him over the edge. His vision blurred when her body clenched and convulsed around him. He rode her through it, unable to slow down as he buried his face in her hair and surrendered himself to her.

  ****

  “Welcome back,” Clint called out to Isabeau as she strode through the front door of Izzy’s wheeling her luggage behind her. “Did you have a good trip?”

  Exhausted, aching in more places than she ever thought possible, she responded shortly, “Except for that whole ‘death of a loved one’ thing, yeah.” She sidled up to the bar and dropped her tote atop it, then pressed her fingertips against her throbbing temples. “I’m sorry.”

  “You know I didn’t—”

  “I know,” she assured him. “I’m sorry, Clint. I’m tired, my head is killing me, and I just got off a plane. You know how I feel about planes.”

  “I know how you feel about planes.”

  Reaching above the bar, Clint pulled down a glass, filled it with ice, and set it before her. With his other hand, he reached into the cooler near his knees and pulled out a can of cola, popping the top and placing it next to her glass.

  “You look like you could use the sugar,” he explained. “Actually you look more than tired, you look exhausted. Although there is something else…” He squinted his eyes and stared at her a moment before stepping back. An emotion she hadn’t seen before flashed across his face. “Never mind.”

  “He’s in love with you, Isabeau”. Could it be true?

  She didn’t know what to say. She suspected that she did look a little more than tired. After all, she’d spent the entire time she’d been in California making love with Noah. They’d had exactly twenty-four hours together before they’d had to catch their flight back to New York, and they’d used every second of it. Even she couldn’t believe how many times and in how many different ways they’d come together, stopping only when their bodies demanded refueling. She could feel the effect their time together had on her emotions, as well as her body. It was entirely possible that someone looking at her could see it.

  By the look on his face, Clint certainly had.

  She closed her eyes and sighed, hoping this didn’t make things awkward between them. As the fizz and crackle of cola pouring over ice penetrated, she opened them.

  He placed the full glass back down in front of her. “Drink it. There are also a few leftover pieces of the pizza I ordered for lunch in the kitchen. They should still be warm.”

  “You’re far too good to me, you know that?”

  He smiled.

  Slinging her tote back over her shoulder, she stood and picked up the cola. “What’s with the boarded up front window? Kids again?”

  “Um, not exactly.”

  “What exactly?”

  He cleared his throat, then glanced around the bar to make sure no one needed him before he answered. “Someone threw a brick through the window, but it wasn’t kids.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because there was a threatening note attached to it.”

  A shiver skittered down her spine. “Let me see it.”

  “Can’t. I don’t have it anymore. I took the liberty of notifying the police when Pete called to tell me about the window. While I had them here, I told them about everything else, too.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, momentarily confused.

  “For one thing, how about the car that tried to run you down?”

  Her breathing grew shallow as a ball of fear lodged in her stomach. “I forgot about that.”

  “You forgot?” he asked, incredulous. “How the hell do you forget something like that?”

  Okay, she didn’t exactly forget. She’d pushed it to the back of her mind where it remained until now. “Who told you about the car?”

  “The one with the accent.”

  “They all have accents, Clint.” Except Alex.

  “I don’t know his name. The one with the long black hair.”

  Dominic. Of course. He was the only one she’d told. Absently, she wondered who else he’d felt the need to share his knowledge with.

  Shit.

  “They want to talk to you.”

  “Who?”

  “The police.”

  Double shit.

  Clint turned to the cash register. He pressed his finger to the touch screen, lifted the tray when the cash drawer slid open and removed a business card from beneath. Closing the drawer he faced her again, his hand out in front of him. “Officer Jake Ryan would like you to call him.”

  She took the card without looking at it. “I’ll call him tomorrow. I’m getting some sleep first.” She was already in the kitchen, when she thought of one last thing. Stepping back through the swinging door, she called out to Clint who was busy washing glasses at the other end of the bar. “I thought I closed this place before I left.”

  “After the brick, I took it upon myself to open back up. I figured it might deter further incidents.”

  “Thank you,” she said and meant it. “Remind me to give you a raise.”

  She meant that, too.

  Finished with the glasses, Clint dried his hands on a towel. “I’ll do that. Now off with you before I get in trouble with the boss for neglecting customers.”

  Isabeau smiled and pushed back into the kitchen. Her smile faded once she passed through the door at the top of the stairs and dropped her carry-on luggage in front of the washer/dryer. With no one around to see her, she didn’t have to pretend that fear wasn’t rushing through her veins, making the pounding in her head that much worse. Alone, she could press her hand into her stomach and worry that the instances against her were piling up and the possibility that someone wanted to hurt her, was no longer just a possibility. It was fact.

  Shaking with a combination of fear and exhaustion, it took three tries before she got the key inserted into the lock. Pushing into her apartment, she dropped her tote, flipped the deadbolt, then crossed the room to turn on the air conditioner, stripping down to her bra and panties along the way.

  On her return trip across the room, she bypassed the bed, easing instead into the corner of her leather couch. She took a slow, deep breath to try to counteract the icy panic that clawed at her stomach. Why would someone want to hurt her? She didn’t understand it. Not any of it.

  Dropping her head to the back of the couch, she closed her eyes and pressed unsteady fingers against her temple. When five minutes later her body continued to tremble, the ache in her skull throb, she gave up the idea of rest. After all the time she’d been with Noah, she needed sleep, but she needed something else even more.

  Resting her notepad on her lap, she began to compose.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With the sun hanging low over the sky and the clawing heat of the day ebbing, Noah stood in front of the recording studio, his back propped against the building. His mind wasn’t on the song they were laying down, the sleep he never seemed to get enough of anymore, or even the fact that Alex had been hungover the last three days in a row.

  His thoughts were on Isabeau.

  Although he’d been with her last night, he wanted her again. Wanted to sit in the same room as her and drink in her beauty. Hold her against his side and absorb her heat, her scent. Forget everything as he lost himself in her.

  Suddenly, painfully aroused at
the thought of her, he shifted, looking for a more comfortable position where none could be found. All along he’d believed that once he had her, once he sated himself, the ragged edge of desire would ease, allowing him to concentrate on why he’d come to New York in the first place. But if anything, his desire had only grown stronger now that he knew the way her body responded to his touch. The flush that darkened her skin, the bite of her nails on his back and that sexy little whimper that broke from the back of her throat every time he slipped inside her.

  Now he knew the sound of her laughter in the dark of night, the weight of her body across his, as they lay tangled together and talked until dawn.

  Sighing, Noah admitted he was in trouble. Not because he was like an addict and she was his drug. Not even because he recognized how easy it would be to lose his heart to her.

  No, he was in trouble because of those other things he didn’t think much about whenever thoughts of her consumed him. Like his goal, his dream and the upcoming meeting with the record company. There was more than just himself at stake, there was also Nick, Alex, and Dominic. More than just his dream riding on his ability to stay focused and get the job done, but their dream, as well. As the one the guys looked to for direction, he needed to stay focused. He couldn’t allow his growing feelings for Isabeau or his desire to be with her to distract him from the real purpose for their being here.

  Recording a demo.

  Proving they still had what it takes.

  A police cruiser drove by while he waged his internal battle. Absently he watched as its brake lights flashed, and the car slowed. He straightened away from the wall when the cruiser came to a stop in front of Izzy’s, and a uniformed officer slid out from behind the wheel. Curious and admittedly a bit worried, he watched the officer, noting that nothing about the man’s actions appeared casual as he positioned his cap atop his head and stared up at the building before him.

  He wasn’t there for a hot meal. He was a cop there on business.

  His thoughts on Isabeau and how she might be in trouble, he was already ten feet away when the door at his back swung open and Alex stepped out. “You wanted to talk to me?”

  Shit. Hadn’t he just been telling himself he needed to remain focused?

  Once again he’d been distracted by thoughts of Isabeau, forgetting his true purpose for hanging out in front of the studio. He had to stop doing that. Somehow, someway, he needed to shake loose all thoughts of her so that he could concentrate.

  Shoving a hand through his hair, Noah cast one last glance down the street. Then he pushed all thoughts of the ebony-haired bartender to the back of his mind where, this time, he hoped they would stay, and faced Alex.

  Alex Morgan, the youngest of the group. They’d brought him in to fill the hole Danny’s death had left. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, he looked more like a surfer than a drummer, but drumming was his talent. Too bad women seemed to be another talent of his. A bit of a playboy, Alex spent all of his free time cruising the nightclubs of Manhattan. It was beginning to show.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Noah as he said, “Alex, we need to talk about how you’re spending your evenings and the effect it’s having on the band.”

  ****

  “He’s like a bear with a sore paw,” Dominic said, with a shake of his head. “Seriously, Isabeau, I don’t know how much more of him I can take. Can’t you do something?”

  One look at Dominic’s face and Isabeau knew he wasn’t exaggerating. His eyes appeared troubled, his customary smile absent. “What would you have me do?”

  His eyebrow arched as he met her gaze.

  “You want me to take Noah to bed?” she asked incredulous.

  “Luv, you can take him in the lounge at the studio for all I care, just make the man happy before I’m forced to take him out back.”

  She couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled up. “I’m sorry, but the imagery…” Holding her stomach, she laughed long and hard. Until Dom’s expression soured. Then, she sighed.

  Truthfully, she’d been afraid this would happen. Over the past week, she’d seen no signs that Noah had accepted his grandfather’s death, nothing to indicate that he had faced his grief. Since he’d gone these last two days without coming to see her, she’d chosen to give him his space. Hoping against hope that he remained absent from her life because he was dealing with emotions he didn’t feel comfortable expressing in front of her. It appeared that wasn’t the case.

  “Look, as appealing as your suggestion is, it won’t solve anything. Noah’s problem is that he has yet to properly grieve for Henry. Until he does, nothing we do is going to help.”

  Dominic closed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

  “I know,” she replied, then covered his hand with her own.

  “He’s going to force me to take him out back and kick his arse.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “Come on, Isabeau, I promise not to hurt him too badly. Can’t I knock some sense into him? Every day he gets worse.”

  Before she could reply, the door swung open and Noah stepped into the bar. His spine was stiff, his shoulders rigid. Dark circles ringed his eyes and a tiny nick marked his left cheek. Her throat tightened. How long could he go on like this before he broke?

  The need to slip out from behind the bar and hold him was intense. She would have done it, if she hadn’t caught a flash of something cold and dark in his eyes. Noted how his balance shifted as he looked from her to the top of the bar where her hand remained atop Dominic’s, and back again.

  His hands clenched against his thighs. “Don’t you two look cozy? I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

  Dominic shifted, the muscles in his arm flexed.

  “Don’t,” Isabeau warned. She recognized the look of someone spoiling for a fight. She’d seen it enough times, both in her childhood and at the bar. What surprised her was that Noah was the one wearing the look. “That’s what he wants.”

  “Then I should oblige.”

  “Dom,” she said, only to be ignored.

  Dominic turned and faced Noah. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he asked, his voice low, challenging. “Bullshit insinuations? Don’t hold back, Noah. You want to have a go at someone, let’s go. I’ve had it with your foul attitude.”

  Noah’s long strides ate up the distance between them. Isabeau barely made it out from behind the bar before they squared off. She pushed between them and settled a hand on both chests, exerting just enough pressure to encourage them to separate.

  “What is wrong with you?” she asked Noah.

  “He’s a bloody prick, that’s what,” Dominic replied.

  Noah’s lip curled.

  Isabeau sighed. “Knock it off, both of you.”

  “No worries, I’m off,” Dominic said, the edge of anger in his voice. His face was grim when he looked down at her. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Sure.” She waited until the door swung shut behind him to face Noah again.

  “Give me a dark lager,” he stated then leaned against the bar in a way that was deceptively casual.

  She narrowed her eyes, welcoming the flare of temper that moved through her. At least it blocked out the want. She wanted so many things when she looked at him. Offering comfort was only a small part of it. “Funny.”

  “I’m serious.”

  He was. That was the problem. A fist tightened around her heart. “Is that your answer? You don’t want to feel, so you plan to numb the pain with alcohol?”

  “It’s a thought.”

  “Are you sure you want to fall back into that cycle?”

  The muscle in his jaw flexed. “I can handle a few beers.”

  “Can you?”

  He gave her a caustic smile. “I have before.”

  “Yes, but you weren’t trying to deny your grief then.” She stepped closer, cupped the side of his face. Her heart was bleeding for him, for what he needed to accept, but continued to fight against with everything he h
ad. “He’s gone, Noah. I’m sorry.”

  Something flashed across his face. For a brief second, she caught a glimpse of the pain inside of him, but then it was gone.

  He jerked away from her touch. “Damn it, Isabeau, give me a beer!”

  “No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “What if you’re wrong? What if you can’t handle it? Are you willing to risk your career, your comeback?”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “That’s not—”

  “Of course you’re not, that’s why you came here. Because you know I won’t serve you.”

  A strange light glinted in his eyes as he stared down at her. He shifted, backing her against the bar and pressing his body against hers. His hands settled on either side of her, pinning her in place. “Is that why I’m here?” he asked quietly. “Are you sure?”

  The press of his erection against her belly shocked her. Even more surprising was the realization that if she could see even the slightest bit of heat in his eyes, anything other than that ice cold glint, she would lock the doors and take him upstairs. She was that far gone over this man.

  She swallowed with difficulty. “That won’t help either.”

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  “Noah…”

  “Is that a no?”

  “You need more than—”

  “What’s the matter, Isa? You find someone else to warm your sheets?”

  His suggestion was so cliché it was almost laughable. Almost. The trembling started in her knees and worked up her body. Her hands had a fine tremor to them. She curled her fingers into her palms and clenched her teeth. Damn him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I won’t fight with you, no matter how insulting you are.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “And you obviously won’t fuck me either.”

  She pushed against his chest until he backed away. “Not when you’re acting like this.”

  “Then why did I bother to come here?”

  His words were razor sharp—cruel and biting. And they hit their target.

  “That’s a good question, Noah. Was it to hurt me? Was that your goal?” Imagine that. She could sound cool and collected even as she bled inside. “Well, congratulations, your trip was a success. Your callousness hurts. Do you feel better now? Does my pain somehow lessen yours?”