Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

I’ve never felt quite so powerful and wanton as I do the moment Noah Maxwell comes in my mouth with an animalistic roar.

I stay with him through every shudder, relishing every oath before slowly easing back. I dab lightly at the corner of my mouth with my middle finger as I watch him with hungry, curious eyes.

His breath rises and falls, his closed eyes showing off those ridiculously curly eyelashes to perfection.

When he finally opens them to meet my gaze, they’re unreadable.

I give him a nervous smile as I glance up at the zip ties. “I, uh, didn’t quite think through this part,” I say. “Are those things easy to remove?”

He lets out a little laugh and shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Either you can tell me what to do or I can leave you like this.”

“Drawer to the right of the sink. There’s some kitchen shears that should do the trick.”

A few moments later I cut the zip ties free, wincing as I see him rub lightly at the red lines around his wrist. “Do they hurt?”

He meets my eyes. “Worth it.”

I turn away in embarrassment. I wasn’t kidding when I said I hadn’t thought through what would come after, and I have no idea how to make a graceful yet saucy exit.

I retrieve my tank top once more as he pulls up his boxers and pants. I hurriedly pull on the shirt before giving him a wide grin. “So. We’re even, then.”

His hand flexes as though he wants to reach for me, but he doesn’t. “Princess…”

I shake my head and back up. “No words necessary, Noah. I’d say we both got what we wanted. Maybe now this…thing between us will ease and we can go back to ignoring each other.”

He says nothing as I bend down to pick up my bag, and as an afterthought I pull out the bag of pink zip ties and toss them at him, since I’d bought two bags. Because you never know. “Here. A souvenir.”

“At least let me walk you home.”

“I’m good. Really.”

“Princess—”

“I want to be alone. Please.”

I bend to pet Ranger as I leave, his tail thumping happily against the wood floor, never pausing in chewing his bone (one of my more brilliant ideas, if I do say so myself).

I let myself out, stopping to pick up the big-ass gator stick as I make the trek back toward the main house.

About two minutes in, I hear a twig snap behind me, and I tense, my grip adjusting on the stick, but then I hear a low, quiet whistling, something low and mellow and masculine.

I smile, realizing it’s Noah letting me know that it’s him, and that he’s found a way to walk me home and still give me my space.

I don’t turn back to acknowledge his presence until I get back to the house, where I pause on the back porch and turn toward him.

He’s there in the shadows, hands in his pockets.

I lift my hand in a wave. Thanks.

He doesn’t wave back. Doesn’t say a word.

Instead he turns, walking back toward his cottage. Only as I go back into the house do I realize what song he’s whistling.

“Predator.”

The song I was working on all day, the song I wrote for him…he’s singing it right back to me.