Twenty-Two
Ransom
Was there a fucking award for this? Because I deserved it.
Lying in the dark, the only illumination coming from the moonlight spilling in through the curtains, Noa looked like an angel. It hadn’t taken her long to fall asleep. Apparently, my being in bed with her didn’t make her uncomfortable. And why was I here? What was the point of this?
To tempt myself further.
Get as close as I could and not get to touch. Not get another taste.
I needed to go to my room. Get her scent out of my head.
But I continued to lie here and watch her sleep like the psychopath I had become.
If there was a way for me to have her sexually, fuck her, and keep our friendship, I’d do whatever I had to in order to make it happen. Murder, torture, watch that vampire movie where they glowed and ate animals. I’d do it.
But this was Noa Raines. She deserved more. She deserved that shit she wrote about. Although if a man came along and offered it to her, I might kill him.
Groaning, I ran a hand over my face. This was not good. I had to stop thinking about her like this. She wasn’t mine. She’d never been mine. She was my friend. She made me smile when I needed it. The dark shit always lifted when I texted with her.
If only she had been the slightly smelly, unkempt cat lady I’d made her out to be in my head, this would be so much easier.
But, fuck, at this point, she could go wear a stained robe and buy a litter of cats, and I’d still want her. I enjoyed her. As in I craved being around her. She made me … she made me happy or some shit. It was different.
And the thought of taking her to the airport in the morning was the reason I’d knocked on her door. She’d barely left the room, and I had started missing her already. Needing more of her.
So, here I was.
In her bed. My clothes on, which was a fucking anomaly. I didn’t get into bed with women and not fuck them. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fucked one in a bed.
The last one I’d fucked was on a lounger out by the pool. I’d been so sexually frustrated that I needed relief. It didn’t last though, and it wasn’t fulfilling. There was a void.
Instead of being relaxed, I’d been unsatisfied with the detached experience.
I didn’t have to fuck Noa to know it wouldn’t be that way with her. We had a connection. One that went back ten years and had been built on something other than lust.
A small whimper came from her lips, and my body tensed as I studied her. What was wrong? Was she having a bad dream? I waited for more, but after a few moments of silence and her slow, deep breathing, I began to relax.
She’d go back to Manhattan tomorrow. I’d be in my bed alone again.
There was a chance she’d not come back here. Why would she? Her mom was dead. There was no one else to die and bring her back.
To hell with what I had said. Sliding off the bed so as not to disturb her, I stood up and slipped off my shirt, then unzipped my jeans and shoved them down before kicking them off to the side.
If I was just getting this one chance to sleep in bed with her, then I was doing it under the covers.
At least where I could feel her body heat and get more of her scent. I wouldn’t touch her though.
I feared if I started that, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Pulling the covers over my body, I sank into the mattress and inhaled deeply. Fuck, that was good. Her sweet scent saturated the sheets. Just this once, I’d enjoy what I could have, and before she woke up in the morning, I’d get my clothes back on and lie on top of the covers again.