“You’re not like I thought you would be.”
I don’t answer and we lay in silence. I shut off my mind and close my eyes, thinking she will do the same but before I can check on her, I fall asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Taylor
Last night feels like a dream. Which I expect to be confirmed when I wake up and the sun is shining in through the curtains. There is no way Noah showed up at my door, looking like he wanted to tear the world apart when he saw my face, and then cuddled on the couch with me.
The bed shifts behind me and a heavy arm comes down over my waist, tugging me back against a warm, hard chest. And, oh… a hard something else. It’s biology, that’s all. Nothing else.
Shit, Noah is still here. I mean of course he is. “His dick is digging into my ass.” I whisper.
“Yeah, it is,” his voice grumbles behind me.
I mouth ‘shit’ and close my eyes, trying not to move and rub against it. He stretches and lets out a manly moan that has my thighs clenching and my mind going back to the bar. I should turn around, thank him and say he can go now but I don’t move.
For the first time since I was attacked, I’ve managed to sleep through the night, because of him. He was a different person last night, he surprised me. I need to think of something to say but my mind is blank, racing and confused.
“What are we going to do about that?”
My eyes snap open as Noah shifts his hips and his dick slides against the crack of my ass. I’m only wearing the thin pajama pants I had on when Noah knocked on the door. Part of me wants to turn around and tell him to get out, I didn’t let him stay so he could do this.
Then another overpowers that voice. He came here last night to check on me, and realized, like no one else, I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see a man with no face, hitting me over and over.
“Hey,” a tattooed hand brushes my hair back from my face and pulls it behind my shoulder. “Breathe,” he whispers, propping himself on one elbow so he can lean over me.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, Cherry. You don’t have to say sorry to me.”
His hand is stroking through my hair and my eyes sweep closed. How can he make me feel so safe when I know he is dangerous? And I’m terrified of a man on a motorcycle who hurt me, when that is what Noah rides.
He takes my chin and turns me to face him. I want to cringe away knowing how horrible my face looks but my eyes lock on his and it’s like I’m trapped, and can’t look away. His jaw is tight as his eyes roam over the damage but where his hands are on me, they’re gentle.
He’s such a dichotomy. He could be really bad for me. But as he rolls me onto my back and runs his hand through my hair, I don’t try to stop him.
“I found boxes in the other room,” he says.
I close my eyes and try not to cry again. I did enough of that on his chest last night.
“My dad, he passed away recently.”
Noah doesn’t say anything straight away. “The bracelet, that’s why you came looking.”
“It was the last gift he bought me before…” I trail off. I take a deep breath, not sure why I want to tell him. He listens as I talk about growing up with my dad, how close we were, how we lost him to cancer. HowIlost him.
Noah doesn’t ask questions, just listens. He doesn’t tell me he’s sorry like every other person who has ever heard about him. He strokes my hair and watches me with the kind of intensity I’m not used to. I feeldrained again after all the talking and spilling my guts to this total stranger.
He’s not quite a stranger. Not anymore. Why isn’t he saying anything?
Instead of talking, he lowers his head and kisses the side of my mouth, away from the cut. It surprises me and I stare into his eyes before he lowers his head again, trailing kisses down my chin and jaw. I tilt my head so he can suck on my neck. I let out a sigh as his kisses get harder, his tongue tasting my skin.
“Fuck, Cherry,” he groans as his hand trails over my t-shirt and cups my breast. “Let me make it better, let me make you feel good. You’re not alone.” He toys with my nipple so it hardens.
I moan as he slips his hand under my shirt and his fingers move over my bare skin. He shifts so his hard on is pressing against my thigh now.
All I can think about is touching him and before I can second guess myself, I move my hand between our bodies and do it. He hisses as I stroke him through his jeans. He lets me for a few strokes, then shifts up on his knees and tugs at my t-shirt. I sit up to get it off and he throws it behind us.
