Chapter 17 Noah
Noah
Torin doesn’t want you.
Not in any real sense.
He likes sex.
He likes messing with my mind.
That’s all he was accomplishing by fucking me like that. It has to be.
After walking inside from the balcony, I feel like I’m on another planet. I clean myself off, put on comfortable pants, and sit down on the edge of my mattress.
My ass hurts like a bitch, but there’s something I like about the ghost of the pain.
Like it reminds me that Torin was there.
My skin tingles.
A minute after I ask if he’s okay, he finally walks in from the balcony.
And as I expected, his expression has shifted. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say he looks concerned, but I know Torin. He’s likely just thinking of the quickest way to make his exit, the best excuse to tell me why he has to leave.
“Whatever you’re going to say, you can just say it,” I tell him gently, trying to act as calm as possible.
He nods, his brow furrowing. “How safe is Onyx House?”
I blink at him.
Not what I was expecting.
“Pretty safe,” I tell him. “Especially after last fall, Hunter demanded that we upgrade some of our locks on the doors and stuff. But I honestly don’t know much about it.”
“Maybe I can talk with Hunter,” Torin says.
He strides through my room and swings open the door to the hallway, stepping across the hall completely naked.
He comes back a minute later cleaned off from the bathroom. He grabs his sweatpants, tugging them on, still lost in thought.
“Is everything all right?” I ask.
“We need to talk to Roman again, too,” Torin says.
He’s pacing back and forth in my room now.
It feels like I’m witnessing some sort of rare, exotic bird that just happens to be in my room.
In the glow of my nightstand lamp, his abs are highlighted in shifting light and shadow as he paces, and I’m able to stare at him longer than I usually would let myself.
“Roman’s taking care of it. I promise,” I tell Torin. “I know he doesn’t really tend to share details about what he’s doing, but you can stop stressing about it, okay?”
“Not happening,” Torin says, his eyes finally landing on mine. “Your life is on the line. I’m not leaving it in the hands of anybody fucking else.”
“Bro, it’s Friday night. Everybody’s still out on the back porch, probably still playing poker. You can chill for one night.”
“Not everyone is out there,” he corrects me. “Remember? Where the fuck was Roman going, alone, past midnight?”
I exhale, leaning back on the mattress. “Roman goes places at night all of the time.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Well I fucking do,” I say, raising my eyebrows.
Torin’s eyes are intense as he holds my gaze, pausing for a beat.
“Okay. I’m not leaving this room tonight.”
“Torin,” I protest. “I need sleep.”
“So sleep. Never said you couldn’t.”
He grabs the chair in front of my desk and pulls it out, sitting down and leaning back, cradling the back of his head in his hands.
We’re silent for a while.
The more time that passes, Torin seems to relax minute by minute, like he’s finally accepting the fact that we’re not in imminent danger right now, at least.
He eventually swings the chair around and idly starts messing with the stuff on top of my desk, grabbing objects and picking them up like he’s inspecting things at a museum.
He picks up one of my old collector Polaroid cameras, turning it around in his hands.
“Does this have film in it?”
“Always.”
He picks it up and looks through the viewfinder at me.
A moment later, he pushes the button and the flash goes off, a picture sliding out of the front of the camera.
He grabs it out and starts shaking it in the air.
“Don’t do that,” I tell him.
He looks at me like I’m causing him physical pain. “You’re supposed to shake them while they develop.”
“That’s a myth, asshole.”
“No fucking shot.”
“Give me that.” I reach over and try to grab it from his fingers and he pulls it back just enough that I can’t. I exhale and give up.
He shakes the picture even more.
“What’s going to happen?” he says, a teasing tone in his voice. “You think I’m going to hand you this picture and it’s going to be completely wrecked because I shook it?”
“Hate you,” I tell him, but I just shake my head.
He sets it down and starts pulling out various books from the shelves above my desk in the meantime.
“The Barista’s Bible,” he says, leafing through the pages. “This is, like, 400 pages about coffee?”
“I thought it was too short.”
“Have you ever even been a barista?”
“No. I’ve never worked a regular job. I just like coffee.”
“Never? Not even an ice cream shop summer gig, or shelving books at a library, or a lemonade stand as a kid?”
“When I was seven, Dad said kids’ lemonade stands aren’t profitable enough, and turned it into a lesson on margins.”
Torin nods. “Sounds like your father.”
I brace myself for the onslaught of laughter or judgement or even just an eye roll, but it doesn’t come.
Instead he just looks at a few more books, and then a couple of minutes later he gets up and hands me the Polaroid.
“Here. Shaken, not stirred.”
I look over the photo and I barely recognize the person I see. I’m shirtless in my navy blue pants, looking up at the camera with…
Affection.
Unmistakably.
I hadn’t even realized I’d been smiling when he took it, but it’s there, written all over my face. My hair’s still all messy from when he fucked me, which I can’t believe is a thing that actually happened.
I put the picture down on the nightstand.
“Talk to me,” he says softly.
“I’m…”
“What are you thinking?”
“That we are so, so fucking stupid.”
The corner of his mouth comes up in a tiny hint of a smile. “I see.”
“What?”
He lifts his eyebrow. “You were so goddamn hard when we almost got caught, Noah.”
“Quit smiling.”
But I’m starting to smile again, too.
And something about his expression stuns me.
How gorgeous he looks when he smiles—really smiles, like he’s not just being clever or mysterious, he’s just lost in the moment and acting totally free for once.
He tackles me onto my mattress, his hands coming down on both of my shoulders and laying me flat.
He straddles me, pushing his knees onto either side of my hips.
I wrestle him back, smacking his hands away as he pinches at one of my nipples and then my stomach.
Finally, he relents, collapsing down on the far side of my bed, grabbing my second pillow and propping it up behind his head. Suddenly I’m looking at Torin relaxing on my mattress, draping his legs over my lap and lounging like he fucking owns the place.
Impossible.
“Go to sleep,” he murmurs.
I stare at him blankly for a moment, wondering if he’s playing some long-game prank on me.
Fuck it.
If he’s trying to screw with me, I can catch his bluff from a hundred goddamn miles away. There’s no shot he’s staying in my bed, but I’m not going to be the one to kick him out.
I reach over to the nightstand and shut off the lamp.
The room goes dim as my eyes slowly adjust the filtered moonlight from outside.
“So… tell me about coffee beans,” he says the moment I start to get comfortable.
“Too sleepy.”
“You can tell me about how often you jerk off, if that’s more interesting for you—”
“Is this how you expect to lull people to sleep?” I ask. “Interrogating them?”
“I’m just curious about you, Daisy. Do you hate when I call you that?”
“I’m too tired to hate anything.”
“Mmm. Guess that means you don’t hate me anymore now, either.”
I pull in a long breath and turn over in bed, facing in his direction.
He’s lying there on his side looking wide awake, gazing at me from the other pillow. He nudges his legs over toward me, draping one leg over mine.
Can’t believe this is happening.
“Listen. I felt like I was going to pass out already at that poker table, and after coming that hard, I’m cooked,” I tell him. “So if you’re expecting me to entertain you, you’re shit out of luck.”
I shove his leg aside and shift around on the other side of the bed, rearranging the sheets.
And as I settle in bed, I realize that I like having him there still.
After the way I’ve felt all week, his presence feels enormous. He’s always impossible to ignore, but I don’t think I’d even want to ignore him right now.
I listen to him exhale, and I wonder if he’s going to sleep at all tonight.
I let you in.
And I know I’ll have to pay the consequences for that sometime.
But for tonight, it almost feels like you belong here.