Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
I open the door, still feeling the ghost of Noah's lips against mine. The taste of whiskey lingers, his masculine aroma, and I hate that I'm already craving more.
Noah stands there, his face carved from stone. Something's wrong.
"What happened?" I ask, my voice smaller than I want it to be.
"Ivan sent a message to the Ferettis." Noah's eyes never leave mine. "He wants you back."
The room tilts slightly. "What kind of message?"
Noah hesitates. That's when I know it's bad. Noah Rivera doesn't hesitate.
"Just tell me."
"A finger. He sent a severed finger."
The words hit me like a stab to the chest. I stumble backward, my hand flying to my mouth. "Whose? Whose finger, Noah?"
"We don't know yet."
But I know. I know in my bones because this is because of me. Every person I've ever cared about flashes through my mind—Jessica, David, my colleagues from the orchestra.
"This is my fault," I whisper, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. "He's hurting someone because of me."
"Evelyn—"
"No." My voice cracks. "Don't you understand? He's hurting someone I know because I'm not there. Because you took me."
Tears blur my vision. I try to blink them back but they spill over, hot and unstoppable. My chest constricts, making it hard to breathe.
"Who would he take? Jessica? Oh god, what if it's Jessica?" The thought of my little sister in Ivan's hands breaks something inside me. "I need to call her. I need to make sure she's okay."
Noah kneels in front of me, his hands on my knees. "It’s a man's finger. We're checking on everyone connected to you. If it's someone you know, we'll find out."
"And then what?" I look down at him through my tears. "Another finger tomorrow? A hand next week? How many pieces of someone I care about will it take before you let me go?"
"I'm not letting you go to him."
"This is my fault," I repeat, the words tearing from my throat. "I signed that contract. I was so desperate to get away from my father that I jumped straight into Ivan's trap. And now someone's paying for my mistake."
The tears come harder now, my shoulders shaking with each sob. I cover my face with my hands, unable to look at Noah anymore.
"I just wanted to play my music. That's all I ever wanted." My voice is barely audible between gasps. "And now someone is being tortured because of me."
Noah tries to pull my hands away from my face but I resist.
"Look at me, Evelyn."
I shake my head, curling further into myself.
"This isn't your fault. It's Ivan's. He's the monster here."
But his words can't penetrate the wall of guilt crushing me. All I can think about is whose finger is sitting in a box, and how many more pieces of them Ivan is willing to cut off so as to get to me.
I feel Noah’s warmth cutting through my despair. His thumb brushes my cheek, wiping away tears I can't seem to stop.
"Evelyn," he says, his voice softer than I've ever heard it. "Look at me."
I shake my head, still hiding behind my hands. I don't want him to see me like this—broken, terrified, guilty.
But Noah gently pries my fingers away from my face. When I finally meet his eyes, the intensity I find there steals my breath. There's no mockery, no coldness—just something raw and unguarded that makes my heart stutter.
He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away. But I don't. I remain frozen as his lips brush against my wet cheek, kissing away a tear. The tenderness of the gesture makes me tremble. He moves to the other cheek, his lips warm against my skin, tasting my tears.
"This isn't your fault," he murmurs against my temple.
Something shifts inside me—the guilt momentarily eclipsed by a desperate need to feel something other than this crushing fear. I turn my head slightly and our lips meet.
This kiss is different from our first. That was fire and fury—this is something else entirely. It's gentler, but no less desperate. I taste my own tears on his lips, salt mixing with the lingering whiskey.
My hands move to his shoulders, then to the buttons of his shirt. I fumble, my fingers clumsy with urgency. I need to feel his skin against mine, need to lose myself in something that isn't this nightmare.
"Evelyn," Noah breathes against my mouth, his hands covering mine. "Are you sure?"
I answer by continuing to unbutton his shirt, my movements growing more determined. I push the fabric from his shoulders, revealing the tattoos that snake across his skin. I trace them with my fingertips, following the dark lines that tell stories I don't yet understand.
Noah's breathing quickens as my hands explore his chest. I push him back slightly, just enough to pull his shirt completely off. The sight of him—all lean muscle and marked skin—sends a rush of heat through me that momentarily drowns out everything else.
"I need to forget," I say, my voice breaking. "Just for a little while. Make me forget."
Noah's eyes darken at my words, something primal replacing the tenderness. His mouth crashes against mine, no longer gentle but consuming. I gasp against his lips, surrendering to the intensity as his tongue slides against mine.
"I'll make you forget everything," he promises, his voice a rough whisper that sends shivers down my spine.
His hands move to the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one fluid motion. The cool air hits my skin, but I barely notice as Noah's gaze rakes over me. My bra follows quickly, tossed aside as Noah pushes me back onto the bed.
"You're fucking beautiful," he says, trailing kisses down my neck, across my collarbone.
I arch beneath him as his mouth finds my breast, his tongue circling my nipple before drawing it between his teeth. A moan escapes me, my fingers tangling in his hair.
"Noah," I breathe, barely recognizing my own voice.
He continues his journey downward, leaving a trail of hot kisses across my stomach. His hands work at the waistband of my pants, sliding them down my legs along with my underwear until I'm completely bare beneath him.
I should feel vulnerable—exposed—but all I feel is need, raw and overwhelming. Noah kneels between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine as he spreads my thighs wider.
"I've wanted to taste you since the first time I saw you," he confesses, his breath warm against my inner thigh.
When his mouth finally touches me I cry out, my back arching off the bed. His tongue slides through my folds, exploring every inch of me with deliberate precision. My hands fist the sheets as he circles my clit, the pleasure building so quickly I can barely inhale.
"Noah," I gasp, my hips moving against his mouth of their own accord.
He grips my thighs tighter, holding me in place as he devours me. The world narrows to just this—his tongue against me, the mounting pressure in my core, the desperate sounds I can't stop making.
Stars burst behind my eyelids as the tension finally breaks. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, my body trembling uncontrollably as Noah continues his relentless assault, drawing out my orgasm until I'm gasping for breath.
I pull back, staring up at Evelyn. Her eyes are wild, unfocused. Chest rising and falling with quick breaths. Her thighs tremble against my shoulders.
Fuck.
I've never wanted anyone like this. Never felt this desperate need to possess someone completely. The taste of her lingers on my tongue as I crawl up her body, pressing my weight against her.
"Noah..." she whispers, her voice breaking on my name.
My control snaps. I've been hard since I first touched her, painfully so. I need to be inside her or I'll lose my fucking mind.
"Tell me you want this," I demand, voice rough even to my own ears.
She answers by pulling me down, crushing her mouth against mine. Her hands fumble with my belt, then my zipper. I help her, shoving my pants down just enough.
"Condom," I manage to say, reaching for the nightstand.
Her nails dig into my back.
I grab one from the drawer and fumble it on then position myself between her thighs and push forward, entering her in one slow, deliberate stroke. The sensation nearly blinds me.
"Fuck," I groan against her neck.
She's tight, wet, perfect. Her body writhes beneath mine, taking me deeper. When I'm fully seated inside her, we both freeze for a moment, adjusting to the feeling.
Then she makes a sound—a moan that's half pleasure, half surrender—and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Better than any violin concerto. Better than anything.
I start to move, setting a rhythm that has her clutching at my shoulders. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my back, urging me deeper.
"More," she gasps. "Harder."
I obey, driving into her with enough force to make the headboard slam against the wall. Her moans get louder, more desperate. Each sound she makes pushes me closer to the edge.
"Look at me," I command.
Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine. There's no hatred there now. No fear. Just raw, unfiltered need. It's the most honest I've seen her.
"Say my name," I tell her.
"Noah," she breathes.
"Again."
"Noah!" Her voice breaks as I hit a spot that makes her whole body tense.
I've never felt this connected to another person. Never wanted to crawl inside someone's skin like this. Every thrust, every moan, every scratch of her nails down my back feels like something I've been waiting for my entire life.
I feel her body tighten around me, her back arching sharply as she starts to come. Her fingernails dig crescents into my shoulders, her mouth open in a silent scream before my name tears from her throat.
"Noah!"
The sound of her voice breaking around my name nearly sends me over the edge. But I'm not done with her yet. Not even close.
As her body trembles through the aftershocks I pull out and flip her over in one smooth motion. She lands on her stomach with a surprised gasp, her face pressed against the pillow.
"What are you?—?"
I grab her hips and lift, pulling her ass up while her chest remains pressed to the mattress. The curve of her spine is fucking perfect—a masterpiece I want to destroy.
"I'm not finished with you yet," I growl, running my palm over the smooth skin of her ass.
She shivers, looking back at me over her shoulder. Her hair is a mess, lips swollen from my kisses, eyes glazed with pleasure. But there's something else there too—a challenge.
"Then don't stop," she says.
Something primal takes over. I lean down and bite the soft flesh of her ass, not hard enough to break skin but enough to mark her. She cries out—half pain, half pleasure—her body jerking beneath my mouth.
"Fuck," she hisses, the word sounding deliciously dirty in her refined voice.
I position myself behind her again, sliding back inside her in one hard thrust. The angle is deeper this way and she feels it immediately. Her moan is louder than before, less controlled.
"That's it," I murmur, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "Let me hear you."
I set a punishing pace, driving into her with everything I have. Each thrust pulls a new sound from her throat—gasps, moans, broken versions of my name. She pushes back against me, meeting every movement.
Her moans grow louder, more desperate. The sound echoes off the walls of the bedroom, a symphony more beautiful than anything she's played on her violin.
I feel my own release building, pressure coiling tight at the base of my spine. Her body clenches around me again, muscles fluttering as she starts to come for the second time.
"Noah! I'm?—"
"Come with me," I command, my rhythm faltering as I lose control.
We crash over the edge together, her body pulsing around mine as I empty myself inside her. The world narrows to just this—just us—for one perfect moment.
I collapse beside her, pulling her against my chest. Her skin is flushed, damp with sweat. She trembles slightly as I wrap my arm around her, drawing her closer.
For a few minutes, we just breathe together. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I feel hers doing the same where her chest presses against mine. Her head rests on my shoulder, hair spilling across my skin.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. Not with her. But fuck if I can bring myself to regret it.
"You okay?" I ask, voice rougher than I intended.
She nods against my chest, fingers tracing idle patterns on my stomach. The gesture is oddly intimate—even more so than what we just did.
"Did you forget?" I ask after a moment. "About the finger. About Ivan."
She lifts her head slightly, looking up at me through tangled hair. Her lips curve into a small smile that hits me like a punch to the gut.
"Right now I only remember you fucking me," she says, her refined voice wrapping around the crude word in a way that makes my spent body stir again.
I laugh, surprising myself. "Good."
She lays her head back down, her breath warm against my skin. We stay like that for a while, neither of us speaking. It should be awkward. It should feel wrong. However, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Finally she shifts against me, sitting up slightly. "We need a shower."
I look at her—hair wild around her face, lips swollen from my kisses, skin marked with evidence of my hands and mouth. She's never looked more beautiful.
"Together?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
She stands, completely comfortable in her nakedness now. "Yes. Together."
I follow her to the bathroom, watching the sway of her hips as she walks ahead of me. She turns on the water, adjusting the temperature before stepping under the spray.
Streams cascade down her body, following the curves I just explored with my hands and mouth. She tilts her head back, soaking her hair, and I'm transfixed.
This woman is going to be the death of me. And she's worth it.