"I know. It's hard."
"What's hard, not being an asshole?"
He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, avoiding mine. "Yeah."
I knew Noah hadn't had the best life. He'd already opened up to me a little. Maybe that was the best he could manage right now.
If I wanted to break down those walls, I'd have to take it slow.
"Can we start over?" I asked.
He squinted, eyes glassy. "Start over how?"
"Let's pretend we haven't been…" I glanced around, making sure no one could hear us. "Pretend we haven't been sleeping together. Just act professional from now on."
"I don't want to forget." His eyes burned into me, even as glazed over as they were. "I want to remember every minute. Every second."
Some small part of my hardened heart softened. "Noah…"
"Let's go," he said abruptly.
"Go where?"
"Home." He heaved himself off the sofa, lurching forward. I hurried to put my arms around his chest, keeping him upright. His eyes met mine. "I want you to come home with me."
"You're drunk." It worried me, a bit. This was the second time I'd seen Noah get drunk. I had to admit, he did seem to drink a lot. But like he'd said, he was a rock star. I supposed that was just what they did.
"Not to fuck. Just to talk. And then sleep."
"You want me to spend the night? Without sex?"
The only time we'd slept in the same bed had been the evening after the club, when he'd told me about his sister.
"I don't want you to regret this in the morning like last time," I said.
He brought a hand to my cheek, gazing into my eyes as he spoke slowly and carefully.
"The only thing I regret is hurting you."
