Chapter Eight
Heath watched Noir get carried from the club while sipping his drink. He imagined another highly sought after bachelor would soon disappear from the elite’s most eligible. It was a pity. They seemed to drop like flies lately.
“Well, that was embarrassing.”
Heath glanced over at the dryly spoken statement. He blinked. The most beautiful man he had ever seen stood nearby. Still, Heath liked to think of himself as a romantic deep, deep down. “I don’t know. I think it was a little sweet.”
The guy’s mouth lifted in one corner. “I meant for you. Wasn’t that your date?”
Heath snorted. “I don’t care about anyone enough to let them humiliate me.”
“Oh, yes. The typical bored rich daddy’s boy. Sad.”
Heath’s hint of irritation turned into true aggravation. “Ah, a jealous nobody, hanging out looking for their next sugar daddy. I should’ve known. Just a pretty face.” If the guy wanted to get catty, Heath would oblige. He had all night.
“Are you ready, Court?”
The guy glanced over at the inquiry. A smooth smile touched his lips. “Of course.” He accepted the arm of a man Heath had seen hundreds of times. Portland was the CEO of the top bank on the east coast. He nodded at Heath as he passed, moving to the door with Heath’s antagonizer. Court glanced over his shoulder and smirked. Heath fumed. Asshole pretty boy. Heath didn’t need anyone. He cared not at all what some gold-digging hussy thought of him. Heath had no idea why he couldn’t stop grinding his back teeth. He didn’t care about anyone.
Showing no regard for his guards, as always, Lazarus refused to let Noir out of his sight long enough to get home. He put Noir on his bike and drove him home himself. Noir couldn’t stop touching him. He couldn’t believe he was real. Noir had never expected to set eyes on him again.
At the house, once again, Lazarus didn’t give him a chance to get away. Not that he would. Lazarus snatched Noir off his feet and stormed inside. His jaw worked double time—like he was still pissed. Noir didn’t quite understand his anger, but he didn’t care. He would take any version of Lazarus he could get.
Lazarus headed straight for their private sitting room inside their bedroom. Noir didn’t even blink at his thoughts. It was their room. Ajax was hot on their heels. Noir didn’t miss the way he hid a smile. Ajax veered to the left, taking up his spot outside the door. Lazarus sat on the loveseat, cradling Noir in his arms. He stared straight ahead—like he feared himself. Noir tried to wait him out.
He failed. “You didn’t give me the chance earlier to say I love you too.”
Lazarus’ chin finally dropped. The way his eyes burned with emotion had Noir’s throat swelling. “Why? I don’t deserve it.”
That confused the fuck out of Noir. “Why would you say that? Of course you do.”
Lazarus swallowed so hard, it had to hurt. “I left when you stayed. You never judged me or questioned where I went when we weren’t together. You never questioned me. From day one, you accepted me. I don’t deserve it.”
Noir shifted positions, straddling Lazarus’ lap. He ran his hands up Lazarus’ chest until his fingers linked behind Lazarus’ neck. His gaze never wavered from holding Lazarus’ stare. “It’s not the same. I know why you left, and I didn’t blame you. You showed a trust in me I didn’t return by confiding in you. I wanted to tell you, but I was scared to lose you because you’re right. None of these mother fuckers see me. You and I were meant to meet. I believe that. You have no idea how much I wish I had trusted in that and been truthful. I was just scared.” Noir knew he was just repeating himself at this point, but he needed Lazarus to understand. He had feared nothing like he did losing Lazarus.
Lazarus cupped his face like Noir was precious to him. Noir didn’t miss the way his hands shook. “You were out with someone else.”
Noir turned his head and kissed Lazarus’ wrist. He met Lazarus’ stare again. “None of these mother fuckers see me,” he repeated, incapable of bringing his voice above a whisper. Everything hurt without Lazarus. He hated this weakness, but he couldn’t stop it. Lazarus had wormed his way into Noir’s soul. He was invisible without him.
Lazarus stood and headed for the bed. He never let go of Noir. Noir held on and held Lazarus' stare. Neither of them broke the connection. They were equally intense people. Together, they were explosive and a tad unstable. Noir couldn’t imagine anyone else touching him. Lazarus crawled onto the bed, covering Noir’s body with his. Noir’s heart hummed. His cock throbbed. He knew what Lazarus could and would do to him. Lazarus was methodical. Like always, he studied Noir’s every reaction as he stripped him.
“No one else is allowed to touch you.”
Noir nodded. “I know.”
“No one else will ever touch me.”
Jealousy and rage flared to life in Noir’s chest. “I know.” Even he heard the deadly bite to his words.
For a moment, Lazarus froze. He eyed Noir, seeing something only he knew. Finally, he smiled. “God, it’s so fucking hot knowing you’d actually kill for me.”
He would. Noir pulled Lazarus down and took the kiss he wanted. Lazarus had come back to him. There was no escaping him now. If anyone thought to take him, they were dead.
Everything inside Lazarus was lit like a firework, ready to blow. He was horny, in love, and still slightly enraged. It didn’t matter that guy had been no one. It equally didn’t matter Lazarus knew Noir wouldn’t let anyone else touch him. Someone had sent him that picture. Whoever had taken it obviously believed Lazarus could be replaced. He had to find a way to ensure that misconception disappeared in everyone’s mind. Noir would be his and only his, or he would be dead. This was until death parted them, one way or another.
He couldn’t get inside Noir fast enough. Lazarus used the bare minimum of lube and prep. His patience was gone. When he shoved his way inside Noir, Noir was nude, but Lazarus still wore everything, including his boots. He froze, partially because it felt so fucking good inside Noir, and partly because he recognized how much he looked like an ass. Noir had to think he didn’t care about anything except getting off. Lazarus pulled out and stripped.
Noir watched him with a heated stare.
Lazarus was back before Noir had time to cool. This time, he claimed Noir’s mouth as he slipped inside. His heart squeezed. He was so in love. So fucking in love. Lazarus never dreamed he could feel this way. He understood now the way Cutler had come unglued over Gable’s attack. If anyone ever hurt Noir, God help this world. He would burn the planet to the ground. No one else mattered. He rocked inside Noir, taking what he wanted while giving everything. Nothing got him hotter than pleasuring Noir. Just knowing he was the reason Noir blew was enough to keep him high. Noir was so above him, so untouchable. It never stopped amazing him that Noir let him be here.
Noir’s breathing changed. He reached above him and grabbed the headboard as if needing purchase. Lazarus doubled his efforts. Noir turned desperate beneath him. Lazarus watched every nuance. He craved these moments and always seared them into his memory. Noir held his stare as he came. Something dark and doubly possessive roared to life inside him. Prince or not, Noir would marry him. He didn’t know their protocols for that. Maybe he dreamed the impossible, but it would still happen. Noir was his. There was no escape. The pressure in his cock stole his thoughts. His orgasm took him out totally. He ceased to exist anywhere except the heaven of Noir’s arms. This was forever. He couldn’t accept less.