Sugar - Page 6

Everything I was, everything I thought, everything I believed I knew, disappeared, as his gaze swallowed me whole. I felt myself drowning in an ocean of arctic blue, those full lashes the most majestic shade of gold, prettier than the belly of a blushing cloud. I wasn’t breathing, but I didn’t have to. Drowning had never felt so good.

I jerked my stare away and breathlessly took account of all my belongings. My purse lay crumpled on the floor behind him.

“Th—thank you.”

Embarrassment curdled in my stomach as I joltingly pulled my arm out of his steadying grip. The flawless picture I’d painted a few nights ago had been smeared with the image of a graceless klutz. I needed to get into my apartment and out of this hallway.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“Only my pride.”

My palms stung, and my knees would likely wear a nasty bruise by morning, but it could have been much worse. I gave my ankle a slow wiggle before putting weight back on the leg. I stepped gingerly, testing my tender ankle.

“No wonder you fell.” He lifted my hand holding the unbroken shoe, and another bolt of electricity sizzled up my arm. “Look at these things. They’re stilts!”

I pulled my shoe back and scowled at him. That was a mistake.

His crystal blue eyes pinched at the corners. Such creases weren’t caused by age, but by charisma, charm, and a good sense of humor. There literally seemed to be some sort of magnetic pull coming from those eyes, so I forced my gaze lower. His lips were full, surrounded by the perfect amount of dark blond stubble. He had a foot of height on me. Of course, I wasn’t wearing shoes, but neither was he.

My head tipped away, and I couldn’t hide the flush warming my cheeks, not with my pale hair twisted into a tight bun. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

My gaze returned to my wristlet and held, silently begging him to go back inside so I could gather my belongings and nurse my wounds in private. Mainly, I wanted to ice down my wounded ego.

His head turned, his stare following mine. And then I looked at his hair. The tousled, flaxen waves struck me as Nordic, and maybe he was. It made sense, given his height. He bent to collect my purse, his body folding low and springing back up with the grace of a jungle cat.

He personified a golden lion, appearing soft and beautiful but lethal all the same, a predator in his own domain. I swallowed, only to find my throat bone dry. I, apparently, had been cast as the clumsy, cornered antelope. Running would only entice the hunt, and I wasn’t a fan of feeling like prey.

“You dropped this.”

My focus lingered on the ridiculously long fingers clutching my tiny purse, and a frisson of excitement spiked in my blood, changing my inner temperature from uncomfortably warm to scorching hot. I cringed at the docile way my body responded in his presence. I was the alpha.

I didn’t want to take the purse for fear I might touch him again, but apparently, he didn’t register my personal boundaries.

Clasping my free hand, he lifted it, pressing the wristlet into my palm and curling my fingers around the material. The slightly rough but warm pad of his thumb pressed into my skin. The contact disappeared before I could truly decide if I liked or hated it.

“I’m Noah.” The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver up my spine.

Clumsily, I took a step back. “Thank you, Noah. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself since you moved in, but you always seem to be on your way out.”

I nodded because my vocal cords had dried up like an old mollusk. I could almost taste the sand clogging my throat.

Blinking up at him, I got lost in his expectant stare.

Damn it! Stop looking at him!

It happened so suddenly, like Alice falling through the looking glass, my bearings seemed there one moment, gone the next. I couldn’t stop falling into his all-consuming stare.

When we were kids, my brothers and I would play Tag at the old quarries. When the person who was It chased me, my heart would race a million miles a second as I hauled ass back to base. My heart raced like that now. I yearned for sanctuary. I needed to get to base.

A sharp mental smack landed in the back of my head as the last of my common sense showed up to save the day.

He’s not for you! Stop looking at him like that before you ruin everything! Do you want to move? You don’t shit where you eat!

Without another word, I turned and hobbled to my door, my bare feet slapping along the cool tile, and my face pinching with every limping step. With a trembling hand, I removed my key and completely missed the lock, stabbing just past the deadbolt and taking a gouge out of the finish. I tried again, my heart pounding in my ears and fingertips.

Tags: Lydia Michaels Romance
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