Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Novalee
The loud slam of a door jolts me awake, my heart pounding from the sudden noise. I hear a muffled ‘fuck’ from somewhere in the apartment, and I groan, squeezing my eyes shut as if I can ward off the headache forming at my temples.
A moment later, the mattress dips beside me, and I slowly pry my eyes open, my lids sticky with makeup I didn’t bother to remove last night. I blink at the blurry shape above me until it comes into focus.
Hottie is leaning over me, a grin on his handsome face. “Good morning, sunshine,” he says, all too cheery for whatever time it is.
I mutter something incoherent along the lines of, “Why are you still here?”
His grin falters a bit, but he pushes on, holding up a cup of coffee and a small paper bag. “Got us breakfast.”
I sit up, the sheets pooling around my waist, and I notice his eyes drop to my chest, lingering there before he swallows hard, forcing himself to look at my face. It almost makes me laugh .
Instead, I take the coffee from his hand, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. “I need a shower,” I mumble, sliding out of bed. His gaze follows me, and this time, he doesn’t even try to look away from my naked body. His eyes darken as they travel over my glitter-covered skin.
Then he stands, too, following me out of the room and asking, “How do you feel?”
I don’t answer and when I reach the bathroom, I push the door closed behind me. I hear the soft thud as it connects with his face, followed by a surprised yelp.
Whoops.
I lock it for good measure.
There’s still condensation in the bathroom, so he probably showered before he went out and got us breakfast, and I don’t know how to feel about him feeling so at home here.
“Did you sleep all right?” he calls from the other side, muffled. I sigh, taking a sip of the coffee. It’s too strong and bitter. I set it on the counter and turn on the shower. “You got any plans today?” he tries again when I don’t answer.
Fuck, he’s clingy .
I step under the hot spray, letting the water run over me, washing away the remnants of makeup, glitter, and his scent, which clings stubbornly to my skin. The steam fills the small bathroom, the scent of my candy-sweet body wash mixing with it, and I inhale deeply, closing my eyes as I try to shake off the fog of sleep and the headache throbbing in my skull.
Thoroughly scrubbed, I step out of the shower and grab a towel, slowly drying off. I glance at my reflection in the mirror—blank-eyed, naked, and stripped of all that usually armors me. The rawness of it makes me think of Rosalee, and before I can stop myself, I whisper to her, “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
Of course, she doesn’t answer because it’s just me .
I dread facing Hottie and having to kick him out. I thought maybe I could keep him around for when I need to get off, but if he were that type, he’d be gone by now, not waiting outside my bathroom door with fucking breakfast.
He shifts outside the door, then he tries again, “Do you like croissants? I didn’t know how you take your coffee. It’s black, but I have sugar and cream out here if you need them.” Not answering, I focus on brushing my teeth instead. He doesn’t seem to care, though, because he keeps talking. “The croissants are pretty good. I got them from the bakery before you head into Chinatown, you know, that big pink one?” His voice is a low hum through the door as I finish and move on to brushing out my damp hair. “It’s only a couple minutes from the sushi spot I’m kind of addicted to.” I run a comb through my hair when his tone shifts, becoming softer. “I’d love to take you some time. I mean, if you eat fish. Do you like sushi?”
That’s enough.
Putting the comb down, I unlock and pull open the bathroom door, which he seems to have been sitting against. He falls backward, his back hitting the floor as the door swings open. He looks up at me, flat on his back, that stupid grin on his face. “Hey there.”
I stare down at him, my hair still dripping water onto the floor, my towel barely clinging to my body. He doesn’t move, lying there, grinning like an idiot, and I don’t know whether to laugh or kick him out right then and there.
God, he’s cute.
He scrambles to his feet and comes to stand in front of me, his grin faltering for a split second before his eyes go wide. “Wow…” he breathes out. “You’re even more beautiful without all the glitter and gleam. It’s…” his gaze traces over my stripped features, and he swallows before continuing, “… like s eeing a star stripped of all the lights around it… pure , beautiful essence.”
Despite the absurdity of his words, I weaken a bit.
Ugh.
“Why are you still here?” I ask tiredly and maybe a little blunter than I intended.
He hesitates, then holds up the bag of aforementioned croissants like it’s a peace offering. “I thought we could… I don’t know, eat breakfast. Spend some time together. Maybe talk a bit? I’d like to get to know you more.”
“Why?”
He blinks, looking genuinely confused. “Because… you said we’re friends?”
He says it like a question, and I scoff in answer as I cross my arms. “I never said that.”
Did I?
“You said I’m the closest you have to one. Well, besides Belle.” I open my mouth to argue, but the words stall in my throat, and before I can think of something to say, he steps closer, his brow furrowing as his gaze drops to my shoulder. When he reaches out to touch the burn scar there, his fingers are gentle as they graze over the rough skin. “What happened here?”
I flick my gaze to his fingers on the scar, the reminder of the night that destroyed everything, and the weight of the past crashes down on me so intensely that I can almost smell burned skin.
The utter helplessness as everything I loved was ripped away from me.
I snap my gaze back to his before jerking away from his touch, my chest overwhelmed with grief.
“Don’t touch me,” I almost growl.
He steps back instantly, his eyes wide, his hands up in surrender. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think— ”
“Leave!”
“Baby—” His eyes search mine, clearly at a loss.
“I said leave!” Turning on my heel, I storm into my bedroom. When I grab the doorknob, ready to slam it in his face, he’s already shoving his way in before I can shut him out. “What don’t you understand about the word leave ?” I hiss.
I need him gone.
Like now.
“Nope, uh-uh,” he says with a head shake. “We’re not doing this again. I stumbled on another trigger, and I’m sorry. Me fucking up, you going off and kicking me out, only for me to overthink everything and come back for you two days later? That won’t happen again.” I glare at him, but he continues, “I would do it. I absolutely would. But let’s cut the time of us being apart and overthinking this and talk it out.”
I don’t say anything, and with every moment of silence that passes, the room feels smaller, and his presence becomes more overwhelming. My gaze eventually drops to his feet, bare on my bedroom floor. He has a fucking smiley face tattoo on top of his left one, grinning at me as stupidly as he always does, and there’s something so real about him standing there, unguarded, so open to being hurt by me.
It makes me want to scream.
Why can’t he just leave when I tell him to?
Why can’t he make this easy?
“I’m not here to hurt you, Sparkle.” I watch as his smiling foot takes a hesitant step toward me. “I’m sorry that I seem to always stumble over stuff. I’m here because I like you. Because I want to be here. I know you don’t want anything serious, and that’s fine. I’m not asking for a promise or a commitment. I… I want to be here. With you.”
I swallow against my tightening throat. “Why? ”
It’s not as though I’ve given him anything that would make him want to stick around besides good sex. But everything about this moment feels more than about sex. That thought alone makes my skin itch.
I finally glance up at him just as his brows draw together, and I see something in his eyes—a flicker of pain as he answers. “Why wouldn’t I?”
I hate this. I hate the way he’s looking at me like I’m something worth staying for.
I’m not.
Ace thought I was. He wanted to be with me. He said it’d be forever, and then forever ended in an instant.
Being with me killed him.
“I don’t need anyone,” I reply coldly. “I don’t need you coming in here and acting like you can make it all better. You can’t.”
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t run, doesn’t leave like I expect him to. He only looks at me, his eyes soft as he takes a breath as if steadying himself. “I know I can’t make it… whatever it is… better. I’m not here to fix stuff.”
His words catch me off guard, and the fight leaves me. My shoulders sag from long-held exhaustion. I’m so tired . So fucking tired of fighting.
I look away when my eyes start to burn, and I hate myself for it. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear.
He reaches out, his fingers hesitantly brushing against mine, but I don’t pull away. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… let me stay. We can have breakfast, talk about nothing, really, and if it’s too much, I’ll leave. Just eat breakfast with me, Sparkle.”
I close my eyes and swallow thickly, trying to shut out the emotions swirling inside me. When I open them again, he has that stupid, hopeful look in his eyes, and the familiar war rages inside me all over again. A battle between the instinct to push everyone away, to protect them and me, and the desperate, pathetic part of me that craves warmth and connection, something to keep the emptiness at bay.
And just like that, my stubbornness loses the fight.
Seems it always does when it comes to him.
“Fine. Breakfast.”
He smiles, and it’s so genuine that my heart physically aches.
Hottie opens his arms as if he wants to hug me, but I press a hand against his chest, keeping him at arm’s length. “There are plates in the kitchen.”
He nods, not missing a beat, and turns to leave the room. Without him standing so close, I take a deep breath, and the air suddenly feels a little more breathable. Quickly, I shed the towel and pull on a G-string and jean shorts, then a bra.
When he returns, he’s balancing two plates with croissants in one hand and my coffee mug from the bathroom in the other. He sets everything down on my nightstand, then glances at the rumpled sheets and starts to make the bed, straightening the blankets.
I grab a gray cropped T-shirt from my drawer and slip it over my head, wanting something plain to cover the scar, something that isn’t glitter. Then I gather my still-damp hair and tie it back in a ponytail. When I turn around, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.
Hottie pats the space beside him with a hopeful smile when he catches my gaze, and I huff but move to sit next to him anyway. He hands me a plate, and we start eating the croissants in silence.
Taking a bite of the buttery, flaky texture makes me moan without thinking .
“See?” Hottie grins, his eyes lighting up. “Told you they’re good.”
I reluctantly nod, taking another bite. They are good. Too good for me to pretend otherwise.
He watches me enjoy them for another moment before he starts talking again. “So, did Annabelle move out?”
I shrug, still chewing. “She’s in the midst of it. Why?”
“Just because there’s only her name on the doorbell.”
“You checked the doorbell?”
He almost looks apologetic. “Only because I’d like to know your name.”
“I told you my name.”
“I want to know your real name.”
“I want a lot of things too.”
His grin fades slightly, replaced by something less teasing. “You really don’t like to talk about yourself, do you?”
“Nope,” I admit, around a mouthful of the buttery goodness.
“What do you like to talk about, then?” He tilts his head, studying me. “I mean, I get that you don’t want me to know private shit, but we can still talk about something, right?”
The question gives me pause. What’s safe? What’s a topic that keeps things distant, not letting him get too close or let me get too attached?
I finish my croissant, take a sip of my coffee, and give him a casual shrug. “Sex.”
Hottie blinks in surprise but then laughs. “Well, I think I can manage that conversation.” He finishes his croissant with one more bite, then leans back on his hands, watching me.
He looks at me, really looks at me, and it’s as though he sees past all the walls right down to the parts of me I try so hard to hide. It’s unsettling, that intensity, and I look away, breaking the moment so it doesn’t turn into something I can’t control.
“So,” I say, forcing myself to meet his silver eyes again. “What’s your favorite position?”
The best defense is a good offense.
He laughs, the sound breaking the tension, and I feel a small sense of relief. This is safer. This is easier.
“Whatever the position is called where I lift you by your legs and rail you against a wall until a little puddle forms at my feet.”
I snort, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously into you,” he shoots back, his grin widening as he leans in and quickly pecks the tip of my nose.
“You have to stop that shit, or I’ll throw you out after all,” I warn, rolling my eyes again, but there’s no denying the comfort that radiates through my chest at his words. I hate it. I hate how easily he makes me feel good.
“All right, all right.” He waves a hand in mock surrender, the grin not quite gone from his face. “Okay, so…” He pauses for a beat, then tilts his head, his expression turning more thoughtful. “Do you have any kinks?”
I arch an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of my coffee. “Difficult to say. I enjoy being choked and having my hair pulled, but at the same time, I want forehead kisses.”
His grin fully returns and is even wider this time. “Treat you like a princess, fuck you like a whore. Got it.”
“Exactly,” I agree with a half-smile. “What about you? What’s your kink?”
“That’s…” He shifts, his smile faltering for a moment, then quickly recovers, looking almost sheepish. “Um, that’s a little complicated.”
Ah, there it is. His red flag.
I was waiting for it .
“What is it?”
He hesitates, then glances away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ever heard of… somnophilia?”
I bite my lip as I try to place the term. “Is that the thing where guys roofie girls and fuck them unconscious?”
His eyes widen. “ No. ” He shakes his head quickly. “No,” he repeats. “I mean, yes, but no. That’s not what I’m into.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” he repeats a third time, but much more softly. “I’m into… fucking you while you… sleep. Seeing how long I can take you, how much I can pleasure you until you come. See if I can make you come while you’re asleep. See if you wake up from an orgasm or wake up sore with my cum running out of you.”
Fuck.
A shiver overtakes me at the thought, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core.
Fuck, that’s hot.
“Did you… while I slept last night?”
He shakes his head vehemently. “Fuck no. I’m only into consensual somno. I would never do anything to anyone without permission. I know that most women aren’t into it, and it takes a shit ton of trust to do that. I’ve never had somebody to live out that kink. It’s more of a fantasy, so it’s absolutely no problem if you’re not into it. Sex with you is amazing as is.”
I look at him, my mind whirring with images I probably shouldn’t be entertaining. The thought of him fucking me while I’m sleeping, only to wake up with his dick deep inside me or with my pussy leaking, but he’s gone?
Shit.
When I don’t reply, he starts to look more nervous. “I promise I’ll never do anything like that to you. ”
I reach out, placing my hand on his arm. “Please don’t promise such atrocious things,” I murmur. “I want you to do that to me. I’m a pretty hard sleeper.”
At least I am when I’m drinking.
His eyes widen, and his breath audibly hitches. “Wait, you’re not… freaked out by it?”
I shrug, turning slightly to face him, my knee brushing his thigh as I settle into a more relaxed position. “I am, but in a good way.”
He stares at me as if he’s trying to decide whether I’m messing with him. “Fuck, Sparkle.” He shakes his head and lets out a low chuckle that sends another shiver down my spine. “I think I just fell in love with you.”
“Don’t ruin it.” I groan, leaning back on my hands as I shift further onto the bed, my fingers digging into the comforter beneath me. Tilting my head to the side, I give him a look that’s part playful, part warning. “Rather, tell me more about what you’d do if I let you.”
The change in my posture draws his gaze, and his eyes darken. Without breaking eye contact, I pull up one foot and press it against his chest. He smirks and leans into the contact, his hand wrapping around my ankle as he looks at me with a dark, hungry expression. Slowly stroking my calf, his thumb brushes lazy circles against my skin, and my breathing catches, turning labored. His body heat now radiates against my foot, making my skin tingle.
“I’d come into your room while you were asleep—”
I cut him off with a teasing scoff. “How?”
His voice drops to a whisper, almost conspiratorial. “I have my ways.”
“So you would what, break in?”
His gaze quickly flicks to my lips before meeting my eyes again. Then he leans down, brushing a kiss against my shin. “Is it breaking in if you allow me to? ”
My heart skips a beat at the rawness in his voice. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in my belly. “Would I?”
Something in his gaze makes it hard to breathe, like he’s daring me. “I don’t know, would you?”
His lips trail up my leg, planting kisses along my shin, moving higher. The thought of letting him break into my apartment, of waking up to intimacy from him, his hands, his mouth, floods my mind, and my thighs instinctively press together.
Holy shit.
He shifts even closer, his lips brushing against my knee now, his hand sliding up my calf. “I’d take my time,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’d see if I could push you to the edge and then pull you back without waking you. Make you beg for it, even in your sleep.”
The intensity in his eyes pins me in place, and my cheeks heat as my heart thunders in my chest. I part my lips to say something, but the words get caught in my throat, my gaze drawn to his lips as he sets down my leg.
“What do you think, Sparkle?” he whispers, thick with promise. “Would you let me?”
“Yes.” The word slips out, impossible to stop, and his grin turns feral like a predator who knows his prey has surrendered.
“You sure? I want you to be comfortable with me, baby. I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want.”
It’s that same vulnerability he’s shown me, that same earnestness that makes me want to pull him closer and push him away all at once. For a moment, I let myself believe that maybe I could have this with him without all the mess and pain that usually comes with letting someone in.
I don’t even know his name.
“I want it,” I say, ignoring the strange thought as my heart pounds, and a voice in the back of my head screams at me not to trust this.
It’s only going to hurt.
He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “Then I’ll give it to you. Everything you want.” He pulls back, but then he hesitates. “There’s one more part to it, though.”
“Oh?”
“It’s no fun to let you wake up without the evidence of me fucking you.”
Oh.
“That’s not a problem. I can’t get pregnant.” He furrows his brow, confusion flickering across his face as if he’s worried he put his foot in his mouth again, so I add, “I tied my tubes. I don’t want kids.”
“Okay. Me neither.” His fingers draw lazy circles on my thigh as he continues, “That leaves safety, though.” Then, the warmth of his fingers leaves me as he pulls out his phone. I watch him, curiosity piqued, and a few moments later, he glances back up at me, his lips twitching into a grin. “The testing center is open right now.”
I blink at him. “What?”
His grin widens. “Want to go on a not romantic date to test for STDs?”
A laugh bursts out of me, and I shake my head, amusement warring with disbelief. “You’re serious?”
“I mean, why not? If we’re gonna do this, we might as well do it right and safely. I’m not going to risk you.”
“And I’m not going to be exclusive with you,” I warn.
“That’s fine, but I’m gonna be with you, and I want you safe so I can fill this perfect pussy up,” he replies with a playful grin.
“What if I get some STD from someone else and give it to you?”
“Then we can be STD twinsies and go through it together.” He shrugs as if that wouldn’t phase him one bit. “I’m fine with that, as long as I’m not the one giving it to you.”
“That’s not funny, it’s serious.”
He’s joking, right?
Hottie nods, his expression softening. “I know, but honestly, if you get an STD, I’d rather be right there with you anyway. That’s what friends do, right? I’m your person, Sparkle.”
I look at him, the sincerity in his eyes, the ridiculousness of what he’s suggesting, and something inside me eases just a little. Maybe I can trust him, at least for this.
“Fine. Let’s go get tested. But if you think this means anything more than what it is, I will kick your ass.”
He grins, pushing himself off the bed and holding out a hand to me. “Noted. Come on. Let’s make this the weirdest date ever.”