Breaking Noah

by Missy Johnson

  “I guess not,” I mumble, dropping my gaze. I can feel the tears stinging my eyes again, but the last thing I want to do is cry.

  He sighs and pushes himself off his chair, walking over to me. I sit forward, my hands resting on my forehead, as my hair falls around me. I don’t want his pity, but I’m beginning to realize that is all he is willing to offer me.

  My body tenses as I feel him in front of me. He crouches down, his finger pushing my hair from my face. I can’t handle having him this close to me when all I want is his lips on mine.

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more for Karly,” he whispers, his expression pained.

  I lift my head, my eyes meeting his. Before I can comprehend what I’m doing, I press my mouth against his. He resists for all of a second before he falls into the kiss, my heart racing as his fingers curl around my neck, bringing me closer to him. All I can think about in this moment is Noah, and how much I need him.

  No matter how upset and angry he is with me, when my lips had touched his, he kissed me back. That has to mean something.

  Chapter 28

  Noah

  Her lips feel amazing. Soft yet demanding, but still compliant enough to yield to my control. Perfect. Absolute perfection.

  I do need to try to exert a little self-control, though. After everything that’s gone on in the past few days, I need a little time to gather my thoughts and figure out what my plans going forward are. I can’t allow myself to forget I’m in this predicament only because of Zara.

  Pulling back from Zara even though all I want to be doing is kissing her, I opt for a not-so-subtle change of subject. “Pick a board game from the closet. I’ll grab us that bottle of wine and some glasses.”

  Without waiting for her response, I force myself to leave her side and gather our drinks. As I’m rummaging through the drawers for a corkscrew, what appears to be the sound of game pieces cracking against the tile breaks my attention.

  “You okay in there?” I yell, not moving while I wait for a response. After a few moments of nothing, I make my way to the front room.

  “Zara?” Looking around, I see the small metal pieces and fake paper money lying on the floor, but no Zara. A flicker of light from the main bathroom catches my attention as well as a shadow being cast from under the door.

  “Zara? Are you in there?” Taking my chances, I turn the handle and push open the door. That probably isn’t the smartest thing I could be doing in my current state. Not even a little.

  “What’s going on?” I ask to the gorgeous blonde standing before me in only a pair of jeans and a black see-through lace bra underneath a ripped shirt. Even with her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Shit,” she mutters, grabbing a small hand towel from the rack and trying to cover her chest, but it barely does the job. “I was getting a game and I think a nail or something hooked into my shirt and ripped it. Then a giant spider attacked me. I dropped the game and ran in here to make sure that demon wasn’t inside my shirt somewhere. And now here I am.” Zara laughs nervously, rocking back and forth on her heels.

  Fighting the urge to take her against the bathroom counter here and now, I silently excuse myself from the room. I don’t miss the heavy sigh coming from the bathroom when I leave, but it’s the right thing to do. Walking into my bedroom, I find a few pairs of sweatpants and a couple T-shirts in the drawer. Putting out one set for me and another set for Zara, I change quickly and take the others back to her.

  “Since your shirt’s ripped, toss this on. It’ll be more comfortable to sleep in, anyway.”

  “Thanks,” she whispers, as I walk back into the living room.

  Since Monopoly is out of the question, I scan through the other remaining games, but none catch my attention. There has to be something to do in this damn house. Then I remember. When my cousin and I would come up here with our mothers, he used to sneak a portable DVD player with him and hide it here. If my memory serves me right, it should be under the spare sheets in the guest room off the dining room.

  All but running to his old room, I’m excited to find the small device sitting exactly where I thought it would be, the charger next to it and all. It’s a small win, but at this point in the game, it’s better than nothing.

  “Zara!” I call down the hallway. “Wanna watch a movie?”

  “But you don’t have a TV,” she says, coming into sight, retying the hair on top of her head, wearing only the shirt I gave her. Glancing at her legs, my eyes shoot back to hers. If this is some kind of game she’s playing, it’s going to end badly…for me. She’ll come out victorious.

  “Sorry, the sweats kept falling down and there wasn’t a string to tie them. I grabbed a pair of boxers. I hope that’s okay,” she says, lifting the shirt a bit, cracking a smile. All along, men thought that women in their shirts were sexy. That’s probably because they never saw a woman in their underwear.

  I hold up the DVD player, trying my hardest to focus on her face and not how the black contrasts with her creamy thighs.

  “You got any movies to go along with that thing?”

  I didn’t think that far ahead. Trying to remember what the last thing we watched was, I can’t for the life of me recall. Powering the device on, I pop open the disk tray to see what’s inside. Praying that it’s not porn, I’m pleasantly surprised when I see the name written across the small silver circle.

  “Super Troopers work for you?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll grab the wine, you set that up right meow,” she jokes, turning on her heel to walk out the door.

  My new favorite thing in the world is the boxers she’s wearing.

  Looking between the couch and love seat, I choose the smaller sofa for us to sit on, so we’ll both have a table to set our glasses on without having to reach over each other. I’m sure I can handle being close to her, but if she’s reaching over me or vice versa, I can already sense my resolve wearing.

  Once everything is situated, I barely sit down on the cushion when Zara makes her way toward me carrying a bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other, and a bag of chips between her teeth. She bends forward to set everything on the coffee table and my dick instantly hardens when her perfectly shaped ass is only inches from my face. She’s close enough that I could reach out and caress the soft flesh, but luckily I’m able to stop myself before I actually make contact.

  “Movie ready?” she asks, turning her head slightly and in enough time to catch me staring at her. A sly smile appears across her plump lips. If I thought the air was charged earlier, I was wrong. Acting with more class than I’ve just displayed, Zara ignores me further, plops down on the cushion next to me, brings her feet up under her, and pops a chip into her mouth.

  The next hour we spend watching Super Troopers brings the tension down a little. But then I let my head get away from me. Watching her laugh and be carefree…this is almost worse than her standing in front of me bare naked.

  I can see things. I can visualize a future with Zara. One where after a long day of work I come home to her and she’s just hanging out in a T-shirt and underwear. We could curl up on the couch and watch a movie. Enjoy ourselves. Laugh. Love life. Each other. I could see myself doing exactly this for the rest of my life.

  It’s terrifying.

  It wouldn’t have been if she’d never violated my trust. It would have been the best-case scenario. What I always wanted with Shannon but knew we’d never achieve.

  Zara could have been mine.

  I slam the DVD player closed and Zara jumps, spilling her glass of wine all over the both of us. “I’m so sorry. You scared me.” She leaps off the couch, runs into the kitchen, and returns with a wet cloth. She attacks the couch first, dabbing the red stain on the fabric. Moving on, she wipes the liquid from her leg then starts in on me, rubbing the cloth across the cotton of my sweatpants. A little too close to the one part of me that doesn’t care what she’s done or what she’s capable of
doing.

  “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. I’m just tired. I’m going to get some sleep.” Brushing her hand away, I stand and take a few steps into the guest bedroom. I could sleep upstairs, but it’s filled with memories of my childhood that I don’t necessarily want to remember.

  After I brush my teeth and splash some cold water on my face, I peek in the living room to check on Zara. She’s lying on the couch in the dark, tucked underneath my mother’s quilt. I’m not sure if she’s already asleep, but I highly doubt it. That thick, almost tangible tension is back and stronger than ever.

  Deciding to keep the door open in case she needs me, I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, praying for sleep to take me. But it doesn’t. Too many things run through my mind, from those that are important to others that make me question who I am as a man.

  I knew it was wrong to get involved with a student, but I did it anyway. Why did I think she was so important that I would risk throwing my career away?

  Was anything we shared real?

  Did Zara really feel anything for me? Is it possible that she really was falling in love with me?

  If this was an act for her, and I thought I was starting to fall for her, can I still have those same feelings if she’s not who she said she was?

  Can I really blame her? If something like this would have happened to someone I love, the way she loved Karly, could I have let it go and moved on? Or would I have felt the overwhelming need to right a wrong?

  What kind of man am I? Allowing her to sleep on a couch while I have a queen-size bed with a pillow-top mattress all to myself? My mother raised me better than this.

  Throwing the blanket off me, I pad into the living room, flicking on the hall light on the way. When I approach the couch, Zara’s shoulders violently shake and her sobs fill the room.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, honestly concerned.

  “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she says, rushing out every word.

  “I guess we’ll have to figure that out. Not tonight, though. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “It’s pretty scary out here, too. There’s nothing to drown out the sounds of the outside. The wind whipping through the windows, the tree branches clipping against the outside of the house, the animals making noises. I can’t take it. This is like a scene from a scary movie. All I need is a man in a mask to break through the front door wielding a knife aimed for my face. On top of all that, I can’t close my eyes and not see Karly and how disappointed in me she’d be.”

  Deciding to do the gentlemanly thing, I pick her up, carrying her down the short hallway and into the bedroom. As I lay her on the mattress, she scoots to the far side, flipping the blanket back.

  “Please don’t go. I’m really scared. We can have different blankets, but if I sleep alone and I’m already this creeped out, the nightmares will come. I can’t have another one. Please,” she begs…and I cave.

  “What kind of nightmares? I used to have terrors as a child and I remember being told to talk about them when I’m awake and they’re less likely to come when I’m sleeping.”

  Taking a deep breath, she rolls away from me. “They’re usually about Karly. What I could have done to help her. But it always ends the same way. She’s dead and there’s nothing I can do.”

  I don’t push. I’ve had the same nightmares. I know how much they hurt, and I hadn’t known Karly like Zara had. Letting the conversation go, I resign to sleep in the same bed as Zara, hoping I can keep my hands to myself.

  With her warmth next to me, it’s only minutes before I’m starting to fade away. Just as I’m on the brink of sleep, Zara starts talking.

  “Do you think you could still try to love me? After everything I’ve done?”

  “I don’t know, Zara. I really don’t. I’m not ready to count you out yet, though.”

  “So maybe we have a chance?”

  “There’s always a chance. Now get some sleep.”

  Zara rolls away from me, nestling into her pillow. “I hope you can love me, because I think I love you,” she whispers. I don’t respond. I don’t want to hurt her…or myself, because I think I might love her, too.

  How the hell are we going to make this work?

  Chapter 29

  Zara

  It’s early the next morning when I wake up. The sun is pouring through the gap in the curtains, which makes going back to sleep nearly impossible. Rolling over, I realize the bed next to me is empty. I vaguely remember Noah getting up a few hours ago, but I wasn’t awake enough for it to register.

  Pushing back the covers, I lower my feet to the cold wooden floor. I stand up, wrapping my arms around me to try to keep in some warmth. I wander out of the bedroom and spot Noah in the kitchen surrounded by pots and pans. The smell of coffee hits me and my mouth begins to salivate.

  “Hey, sleepy,” he says, with a smile that makes my heart race. “We don’t have a lot of options, so I hope you like waffles with frozen berries and maple syrup.”

  “So long as there’s coffee to go along with that, it sounds perfect.” I smile, sliding into one of the chairs that surround the small wooden dining table. “What time is it?” I wonder aloud.

  He nods to the clock above my head. Eight a.m. I’m never up this early.

  “So, what’s the plan for today?” I ask.

  “We wait for Derrick to come looking for us. Any moment now he’ll realize I haven’t returned his car. He knows where this place is. I’m hoping it doesn’t take him too long to figure out I would’ve brought you here.” I smile as he places a cup of coffee in front of me, along with a plate stacked high with waffles.

  “Thanks.” I grin, pick up my fork, and dig in. Surprisingly—considering how long they’ve probably been in that freezer—they taste pretty damn good.

  He sits down next to me and begins to eat. Every time he lifts his fork his arm brushes past mine, sending my body into overdrive. God, this man drives me crazy.

  My mind wanders back to last night, and what he said to me just before I fell asleep. He loves me. Even after all this, he loves me. If there is any chance of us getting through this, I’m going to grasp it with both hands and hold on for dear life.

  “So,” I begin, wetting my lips nervously. “What now? With us?”

  He glances at me, his eyes wide, as if surprised by my forwardness. If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that creeping around our feelings isn’t going to get me anywhere. I need to be direct and force him to confront this head-on. My heart pounds as I wait for him to answer.

  “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  Not exactly the response I was hoping for.

  “I don’t doubt your feelings, Zara. Or mine. It’s just—” He sighs, his voice breaking off as he shakes his head.

  “You can’t trust me,” I finish, in a small voice. “What if I earn your trust back?”

  “How do you plan on doing that?” he asks suspiciously.

  I haven’t thought that far ahead. How can I prove to him that he can trust me? I betrayed him in the worst possible way. Without trust, all the love in the fucking world is useless. My shoulders deflate as I come up empty. I have no problems plotting to ruin his life, but I can’t think of one single way to regain his trust?

  “It’s just going to take time, Zara,” he says, his voice gentle. “Don’t try to rush this, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

  He’s not? I look up at him, my eyes meeting his. I wish I could believe him, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Only I’ve heard that before. Too often. The people I love almost always leave me. I can’t let that happen with him.

  “Everyone I love leaves me in the end,” I whisper, my fingers toying with the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing. His eyes dart downward, then back up to my gaze. He leans over, his thumb gently wiping below my eye. I blink, sending more tears rolling down my cheek.

  “I’m not everyone, Zara.”

  Setting our empty dishes in the sink, I turn around to find Noah missing again. This gu
y is stealthy, I’ll give him that. Deciding to clean up later, I meander into the living area to find him sitting on the couch, head in his hands.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, unsure I want the answer.

  “I was just thinking how screwed up I must be to want a woman who was determined to destroy me just a few short weeks ago. It’s pretty fucked up, if you actually sit back and think about it.”

  “It is pretty weird, but the heart wants what the heart wants, right?” I try to make logic out of an insane situation. Sitting next to him, our thighs brush slightly, and it’s all I need to add gasoline to the already blazing inferno inside me. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want Noah right now.

  Swallowing down all my insecurities where he’s concerned, I make a brazen move I hope doesn’t land me alone on the couch again. Reaching out, I take his hand in mine, bring it to my lips, and plant an innocent kiss on his palm. His muscles tighten under my hold, as if he’s wanting to pull away from me, but he gives in to my touch. Noah turns over his hand, brings it to my cheek, and softly runs the pad of his thumb across the heated flesh.

  How can something so innocent feel so seductive?

  I lean in to his hand, relishing his touch. His fingers move toward the back of my head, into my hair, and I close my eyes. Nothing has ever felt more right than this exact moment. When his digits curl into the hair at the nape of my neck and tug, bringing my head back with them, a soft moan escapes my lips.

  With my neck exposed, Noah’s lips find the sensitive spot just below my ear and place a light kiss. Fireworks explode within my core. I need to be closer to him. As close as I can possibly be.

  Swinging my leg over his, he doesn’t resist when I prop myself up on his lap. I still give him access to my neck, as he seems to be enjoying himself, but this position gives me the access to touch him as well. My hands find his hair and our actions mirror each other’s—grab, pull, massage.

  He kisses his way up my jawline torturously slowly, and when our lips finally meet, I can’t help but rock myself into his growing erection. With a growl, his tongue grows demanding, commanding my lips to part and allow him access, which I do unhesitatingly, needing the contact as much as he does.