It was a delicious look on her since it reminded me of how well she sucked my cock, but it didn’t sway my decision.
She must have seen it on my face because her expression shifted into something less sultry. “I feel like you’re always leaving me out of the big stuff.”
“We barely know you.” I said it slowly, but with enough emphasis to prove my point. “Do you know how long I was in the club before Rafe even let me touch a bike?”
“How long?”
“Three years.” I held up three fingers. “But he’s let you participate in the Christmas drive, he’s brought you into our bed, and he’s brought a fucking Christmas tree into the clubhouse for the first time since ever.”
She had to understand what all that meant. “Rafe doesn’t trust easily, and I’m not going to ruin the trust he has in me by spilling his secrets.”
That was absolutely off the table.
Noelle played with a curl that had fallen over her shoulder, twirling it around her finger and letting it bounce back.
She wasn’t even trying to be sexy, but I found it hot as fuck.
The earlier nausea returned, but for a different reason.
Things I’d noticed about Noelle from the beginning, concerns I’d had about her possible lies, crashed through me with enough force to stutter my heartbeat.
Why had she chosen to go into a bar not under Rafe’s protection?
I halfway believed her story, except the bar was way out of our territory.
What was she doing all the way out there, when her excuse was that she’d been trying to get character witnesses to help our image?
Past conversations peppered me with doubt.
She was curious.
A decent trait for a reporter.
An even better one for a cop.
My hands fisted, and I blew out a hot breath to temper my rising anger.
I had no proof.
Nothing but the sensation niggling in my gut that Noelle was more than she appeared to be.
Couple that with the fact that she kept badgering me about Christmas Eve—our BIG night—and every suspicion I’d ever had leaped back to the surface.
“Ash?” Noelle stood and put her hands on my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Sure.” I mimicked her earlier shrug. “Just thought of something I didn’t like.”
“Want to talk about it?” That right there showed me why I was falling for her.
The question was genuine and searching, but not in an invasive way.
Concern creased her forehead in tiny lines, and her grip on my shoulders tightened. “I’m sorry for being churlish the last few days.”
She shook her head, wafting her hair in my face without meaning to. “It’s just… I love Christmas. This is the first year I’ve really had anyone to share it with.”
The rest remained unsaid.
We were ruining it by keeping her out of the loop.
