6. Noah
Noah
I haven’t seen Delancy in a week. He’s been avoiding me since that day at the shooting range when I hugged him.
My hugs aren’t that horrible. I mean, I get that we’ve only known each other a couple months, and it’s purely a hate/hate relationship, but he’s the one who was being all sexy.
Hovering behind me (I could have sworn I felt his cock getting hard), smoothing his hands over my arms like he was staking his claim over me, tracing his fingertips over my fingers and whispering in my ear, his hot breath against my skin making me shiver.
I was seconds away from dropping my pants and bending over, begging him to call me his dirty little slut while taking me from behind.
Hearing Del say ‘slutty paws’ awakened my degradation kink, hitting me at full force.
But the more I think about his reaction and sudden departure, the angrier I get. I can’t wait to see him again and give him a piece of my mind.
No, that’d be too nice.
I’m going to kick his ass.
He may be taller than me, and packed with more muscle, but I doubt that pretty boy knows Jiu-Jitsu. I spent six months in Brazil learning the martial art form. My professor was surprised by how well I did despite my size. Rude, but the comment filled me with pride.
Still, Del surprised me by knowing how to fire a gun. I bet he can fight too. How else would he have gotten those scars?
Ugh. Who is this man!?
Work tonight was brutal. I check my phone for the time, then scan the space, making sure everything is spotless. Once satisfied, I lock up and walk toward the subway.
When I get home, I’m drawing myself the hottest fucking bath.
Then I’ll pour myself the biggest glass of wine and soak in the tub while reading a smutty book until my fingers and toes are pruned.
I’ll end the night with my bullet vibrator, coming so loud that fucker next door will be forced to tug on his dick, wishing his hand was me.
I pause at Del’s door and listen but all I hear is my fast-beating heart, still revved up from work tonight. Or is it beating so frantically because of how anxious I am, hoping to run into him?
He’s got to show his face at some point.
After entering my apartment, I make all the loud noises, just in case Del really is home and asleep.
Slamming doors and cabinets.
Blasting music and singing at the top of my lungs (I’m a wonderful singer).
Vacuuming (I have hardwood floors, but the living area rug needed a good cleaning.)
I only stopped with the noise because it’s midnight and Del’s not my only neighbor.
When I finally make it to the bathroom to start my bath, disappointment sets in.
He really isn’t home. He really is avoiding me.
I hate him.
While letting the tub fill with water, I select a new book to read.
Huh. That’s weird. I’m missing one. Did Sage take a book without asking? I can’t remember the title. I just know it had a bare-chested man on the cover. It’s too late to text her so I make a mental note to do it tomorrow. I choose a spicy enemies to lovers romance.
I turn to my bedside table next and open my toy drawer.
What the hell?
Where is my bullet vibrator? I sigh. It’s my favorite toy and I’ve lost it before in the sheets of my bed. I’m too tired to search for it.
Giving up on getting off tonight, I head into the bathroom.
I hiss as I sink into the water, the heat soaking my sore muscles. Leaning my head back, I inhale the jasmine and white tea bubble bath.
It takes all of one minute for me to doze off, only waking when my head goes under water. I didn’t get to read my smutty romance book, but my fingers and toes are most definitely pruned.
I drain the tub and rinse off in the shower, scrubbing the day away. I always feel like there’s a layer of grime on my body after doing this job.
Before burying underneath the covers of my bed, I chug the rest of my wine. The second my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep.
M y body protests waking up. Muscles I didn’t even know I had throb with pain. Work last night did a number on me and it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink a full glass of wine right before falling asleep. I should have rehydrated with water.
I groan as I crawl out of bed and rush to the bathroom to relieve myself.
Before heading into the kitchen, I pull up a music app on my TV and blast the Top 100 pop hits channel.
A song I’ve never heard of plays and it’s catchy and fun enough that I dance around the kitchen while making coffee.
As it brews, I stare into the fridge as if that will magically produce food.
My stomach grumbles at the thought of an omelet.
I should just order food.
Ooo, wait. I have Pop Tarts. I grab the box from the cabinet and frown when I only find one pouch left.
I know I had two.
Maybe Sage took one too. Though she never takes anything of mine before asking.
Unless… have we reached that level of friendship?
What’s hers is mine? Butterflies dance in my stomach at the thought.
I’ve never had a best friend before her, always too hesitant to bring other people into my life because of who I am.
Sage is different because even when I tried pushing her away, she never let me. She’s always been accepting of me.
I’ll tell her everything eventually. I’ll give her the option to dip out if my life is too terrifying for her.
Especially when I tell her my biggest, darkest secret.
The coffee machine beeps, letting me know it’s done, and I shimmy my way over to grab the coffee pot. When I turn around, I scream and the coffee pot slips out of my hand, shattering on the hardwood floor. The hot liquid splatters on my bare feet and legs.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
“Nope. Just me,” Delancy says.
I limp to the counter to grab paper towels, but Del is already handing them to me.
“I’m surprised how well of a dancer you are since you sing like a cat in heat.”
I flip him the bird while I wipe the coffee off my legs.
Del disappears for a minute while I sweep up the broken glass and mop the floor. He returns with a first aid kit.
“How the hell did you get inside my apartment?”
He sets the kit on the counter and searches the contents.
“Your door was unlocked.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It was. You should really lock your door. This city is full of psychopaths. There could be a killer living in this very building.”
He leads me to my tiny kitchen table and chair and sits me down.
“You’re not going to gaslight me, Laptop. I know I locked the door last night. I checked it right before I went to sleep like I always do and… what are you doing?”
He’s setting ointment packets and bandages out on the table as if he’s about to perform surgery on me.
“You got cut by the shattering glass and burned by the hot coffee.”
Before I can respond, he has my right foot in his lap and smooths what I assume to be burn relief on my skin. Next, he applies an ointment for the cuts on my shin.
He’s taking care of me?
He’s so gentle and attentive and looks sexy as hell.
Who is this man?
“Where have you been?” I ask as he wraps my foot with a bandage. He glances up at me through his black locks falling into his blue eyes.
“I had to work.”
“Bullshit.”
He ignores me and takes hold of my other foot.
“I had to work,” he repeats, softer this time. More sincere.
Fine. I guess I believe him.
“What do you do for a living, Delancy? And don’t lie to me. Don’t avoid the question like you always do.”
He pauses momentarily as if gathering his thoughts.
“I’m a… private investigator,” he says cautiously. “I was called away on a job.”
He sets my foot on the floor, deciding it doesn’t need medicine or bandages.
I want to ask him about this job that took him away from me for a week. So, he’s a private investigator? That might explain why he knows how to shoot a gun. Is he former law enforcement? A part of me feels like he’s not telling me the whole truth.
He holds my wrist and lifts the sleeve of my robe, checking my arm for injuries since some of the coffee splattered the sleeve.
Wait. No. Shit. I try to pull my arm back, but he holds on to me tighter.
“What happened, Noe?” Del’s voice is low and laced with anger. “Who did this to you?”
“No one.”
I quickly tug the sleeve down to hide the cuts and bruises along my forearm. Del releases me and I stand, leaving him at the table. But he follows me into the living room where I pace.
“It happened at work. There was a fight and—”
He grabs me by the arm and pulls me against his body. His heavy breaths mix with mine and for a second, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.
Instead, he tilts my head to the side and spots a bruise on my neck. He brushes the pad of his thumb over it, making me shudder.
“And this?”
His fingers spread over my neck and skim down to my shoulder. He pushes the fabric of my robe back, tracing the inch long cut there.
“This?”
When I refuse to answer again, he tugs on the robe’s belt, pausing to give me time to protest. I don’t and it falls off my body.
His enraged eyes scan my breasts, my nipples hardening under his heated stare.
The tips of his fingers graze the bruises along my chest before moving to the cuts and scars on my stomach and sides.
New cuts and bruises from last night and old ones from past jobs.
“Who gave these to you? Answer me, Noah.”
The way he says my name—livid and full of demand—lights a fire in my stomach. I whimper.
His eyes dart back up to mine at the sound.
“Give me a name. I just want to talk to them.”
“I take self-defense classes,” I say, hoping he believes me. “Sometimes I get my ass kicked.”
He waits for me to continue, staring into my eyes as if he’ll find the truth there.
“Why did you leave so suddenly at the gun range?” I blurt before he can ask more questions.
My words seem to snap him out of this protective demeanor—a side of him I wouldn’t mind seeing more.
It’s sexy as fuck.
Del steps away from me, and I scramble to put my robe back on, suddenly feeling vulnerable and embarrassed about what had just happened.
He points at a takeout box on the counter. “I brought you breakfast. A ham and cheese omelet and hash browns.”
He backs away towards the door.
“What are you doing? Are you leaving?”
“Yes. I have to… I can’t… I’m sorry… I...”
He stumbles over his words, and I’ve never heard him so flustered.
“I swear to God if you don’t stop so we can talk about what just happened… Delancy—fuck I wish I knew your last name so I can properly curse you!”
He’s out my door and down the hall as I continue yelling at him. Seconds later, I hear his motorcycle rev up and he takes off.