He walked over to my desk and ran a long finger over the edge of my textbook. “Do you like your classes this semester?”
“So far. They’re all in my concentrations, so they keep me interested. Next week I find out where I’m student teaching.”
He looked at me. “You’ll need clothes for that. I can set you up with my personal shopper.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to, Avery. I made the offer because I want to.”
“Thank you.”
He left the desk and took a slow tour of my living room. As beautiful as the renovated mansion was, my apartment was decorated with items that testified to my age. Bright red sofa, fuzzy white shag carpet, brightly colored candleholders. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his exquisite suit that played up his beautiful African complexion. Even his polished dress shoes made me feel unsuitable. I straightened my posture.
“Does it make you nervous having me in your home?”
“Um, no. I just wasn’t expecting company.”
“Yet you invited me in any way. I can leave.”
“No.” I was being so rude. “Can I get you something to drink? I have … water.”
His dark, chestnut eyes studied me as he stepped closer, his hand trailing along my cheek. “Don’t trouble yourself, love. You’ve made a sweet little home for yourself here. I only wanted to see it.”
My head angled back so I could see his face. “I love my apartment, Micah. I’ll never be able to say thank you enough for helping me get it.”
His mouth curled upward. It wasn’t quite a smile, but Micah never smiled, so that might have been it.
His thumb traced over my lips. “Have you given any thought to what we discussed?”
I blinked and lowered my lashes. “A little. I’m—”
A heavy knock rattled the door.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“No. It’s probably just my neighbor.”
My chest tightened as if I were doing something wrong. Noah would be upset if he found another man in my home, but this was my home, and I could invite whomever I wanted inside. Yet the knock gave me the urge to shut off the lights and hide. What the hell was happening to me?
“The blond man?”
Heart racing I stared at the door and nodded. “Yes.”
“Does he often come by at eleven at night?”
“No. He’s probably just…” He’s being nosy. “…wants to ask me something.” The knock sounded again, heavier and harder. “I’ll see what he wants.”
Micah hung back as I went to open the door. Noah scowled into my apartment.
“Can I help you?”
“I need to borrow a cup of milk.”
I frowned at him. He knew I had dairy allergies. Angling the door for privacy, I hissed, “What are you doing?”
He glared over my shoulder.
Micah cleared his throat, pulling the door out of my grip, and held out a hand. “I’m Micah Buchanan. I didn’t catch your name.”
Noah shook his hand, using evident force. “Noah Wolfe.”
Micah’s dark eyes slowly took Noah’s measure, and then turned to me. “Will you be all right, love?”
I nodded. “You don’t have to leave.” I turned my attention back to Noah and scowled. “I’m all out of milk.”
Noah stepped away from the doorway but didn’t leave.
Micah glanced back into the apartment and back to me. “I’ll see myself out.” He leaned down, and my eyes widened as his mouth pressed to mine. Before it was just the corner of my lips, but this time, he wasn’t hiding his intentions. As he pulled away, his fingers pinched my chin. “I’ll call you tomorrow, love. Sweet dreams.”
I didn’t blink until the elevator closed behind him. Noah scowled at me.
“I thought they weren’t allowed to kiss you,” he snapped the second we were alone.
“I… Micah’s…” Why was I explaining myself to him? “Do you even need milk?”
“No, I don’t fucking need milk! Why was he inside your apartment, Avery?”
“Because I invited him in, Noah.” Irritated, I kicked off my shoes and removed my earrings. “If you don’t need anything, then get out.”
As I plucked the pins from my hair, I flinched at the sound of the door slamming. I slowly turned, finding my apartment empty.
“Noah?” He left? That wasn’t like him to just walk away. I frowned. He must be really angry.
I scoffed. Whatever. He had no right interfering with my job. This was my life.
I took off my dress and shoved my legs into PJ pants. Taking off my bra, I grabbed the first T-shirt I found and pulled it over my head. Shoving my feet into my slippers, I marched back to the living room and glared at the walls, my irritation amplifying.
“Fuck this.”
I marched across the hall and pounded on his door. It flung open, and he scowled at me but said nothing. His eyes did a slow perusal of my body, pausing at my feet, which were stuffed into cow slippers, and returning to my face. Still glaring.