Popping the button on my slacks, I flit my eyes to her, holding her gaze. She fidgets, squeezing her thighs together, those flimsy shorts kissing the edge of her ass cheeks. I want to take a bite out of that juicy ass of hers.
Saliva floods my mouth, my cock thickening under her observation. The fact that she’s not turning away only makes me harder. I can see it in her burning eyes that she’s never been touched but wants it, craves it.
Slowly, I unbutton the shirt I stole from Noah, teasing each button through the small hole before chucking it off and letting it drop to the floor. Her eyes enlarge, her mouth dropping open.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, moving to the edge of the bed. If that’s the response my body gets when she’s seen it hundreds of times while spying on me in the pool, I can’t wait until she sees my cock.
She moves toward me, and my pulse skyrockets. Dainty fingers stroke over my pec. I hadn’t expected anything to happen, I was just testing her, but damn, her hands on me, flesh to flesh, cause my breathing to hitch.
“Noah.”
“What?” I frown. Is she joshing me?
“You don’t have the tattoo,” she breathes in wonder.
Placing my hand over hers, I shake my head. “Not here.”
I slowly turn, showing her my back. She wouldn’t have seen my piece before. I got it this year while she was at school.
Those soft fingers dance up my spine, tracing the pattern of the rose bush, thorns sharp tearing into the flesh, all the roses red, bar one, a white single rose for my sister.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathes, so close, I feel her breath against the skin.
Her plump, warm lips graze the flesh, and a hiss wisps from my lips. Spinning around, I clasp her cheeks in my palms, crushing my mouth to hers. I don’t push for more, just hold us in the embrace for a few seconds before breaking away, our breathing heavy. There are tears in her extraordinary eyes. “I owed you that,” I tell her, making her smile.
“Yes, yes, you did. Thank you.”
“What did it feel like?” I ask her, my heart beating wildly.
“Home.” She jerks her shoulders. Well, fucking hell. “I have to go.” She brushes past me, closing the door softly behind her, turning my world upside down.
Fourteen
Noah
Opening the laptop, I check the Marshal’s listing price. It’s well under-priced for a quick sale. We could offer even lower. He may be inclined to accept any offer that comes along. It would be an investment for us, while also insuring we get paid the money he owes.
Checking the real estate agent handling the sale, I jot down the address and stuff the paper into my breast pocket.
We own a few different properties. Whenever an opportunity like this arises, it’s a no-brainer.
Everyone with a brain should invest their money into property.
“It was you.” Freya’s voice startles me. This is Dad’s study—the only place he allowed pictures of mom or Rose. Now, she’s in here, poisoning it with her Gallo blood.
“Get out,” I bark, jabbing a finger toward the door.
“No.” She shakes her head.
There are tears in her eyes. Flashes of her crying beneath my rage last night have me fisting my hands. I liked having her beneath me, wriggling under my grip, but the pain in her voice stabbed into me like a knife, wounding, cutting deep. I don’t understand why and can’t figure it out.
“It was you I kissed by the pool that time.” She shakes her head, confusion tugging down her brows.
Silence.
I count the seconds, waiting for her to say something else. What did she want me to say? I don’t fucking know why I did it. All I know is she tasted like sin and sunshine, her damp, thick lips hungry. I wanted to feast on her and allow her to feast on me—and it fucking killed something inside me to want her.
Loosening a tight breath, I get to my feet, pushing my shirt sleeves farther up my arms as I plant my ass on the lip of the desk. “Can’t say I recall,” I lie.
“Don’t,” she warns, and it’s that feisty fire that coils my gut and hardens my dick.
Her eyes set. “That wasn’t yours to take.”
Crossing my arms, I dip my head, studying her in her too-short shorts and heavy sweater. “You gave it freely. Practically begged for it.”
“So, you do recall?” She levels me with a stiff glare.
“I remember drawing blood.” It was an impulse, a need to inflict pain with her pleasure, to ground myself and show her who it was she was kissing.
Yanking the neck of her sweater down, she scowls. “Because you like to leave marks, right?”
A shadow passes through the room as I stand and stalk toward her, devouring the space between us. Tilting her chin with my forefinger and thumb, I trace the light bruises blemishing her soft, creamy skin. I got carried away, held her too tight. Leaning down, I whisper against her ear, “You want me to kiss them better?”