I was either lucky or cursed. How could I possibly manage an interview after running into the lead singer of Darkest Days? My heart felt like it might explode out of my chest. My limbs were trembling. My insides were throbbing.
I had to get a hold of myself.
"I didn't mean to intrude. I'm here for an interview."
"This area is off limits to non-employees."
"I'm sorry. I think I got off on the wrong floor."
I hovered in the doorway, unable to make myself walk away.
"You want an autograph or something?" he asked. “I can't imagine why else you'd still be standing here."
"Sorry, I'll just…" I trailed off, breath hitching as Noah strode over.
He moved like a wild animal, purposeful, with a barely restrained edge. As he approached, he scanned me up and down, his dark eyes intense.
"Or maybe you want more than an autograph?"
I folded my arms. "I don't know what you mean."
"Fangirls throw themselves at me all the time. You think I don't recognize that look you're giving me?"
"I'm not throwing myself at you. I'm just standing here."
"Then why is your face red?"
I put my hands to my cheeks. "It is not."
"Am I wrong?" He took another step forward, crowding me until my back was nearly to the wall. My breathing sped up. I couldn't even tell if I was angry or turned on. "Have I turned you speechless again?"
I inhaled a sharp breath, but nothing came out.
His eyes glinted as he backed away. I let out a wavering whimper, my vocal chords beginning to work again.
Noah gave me a darkly amused look as he walked through the open door. "Good luck with your interview, fangirl."
The moment he left I clung to the doorframe, my knees going weak. Shivers ran down my spine, half in arousal and half in anxiety. I only had room for one thought in my head.
Who exactly was this Noah Hart I'd met, and what the hell happened to my soulful, romantic poet?
