Chapter 14
NOAH
I stuck around her mother’s place, leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed, trying to look normal—like I wasn’t itching to bolt.
Grief hung heavy in the air, thick as the Lowcountry humidity, and I didn’t do well with it.
Never had.
Didn’t know how to console, how to stitch words together that’d fix anything.
I’d seen death—dealt it, watched it—but this? This quiet, broken shit? It clawed at me, made me want to run, hunt, do something with my hands that wasn’t standing still.
But I stayed.
For her.
Hallie Mae needed me, and if there was one thing I understood, it was duty—carved into me from years of orders, targets, blood.
She was curled up with her mom on that rocking chair, their sobs blending into a low hum that cut deeper than any scream.
I kept my face blank, my stance loose, like I belonged there among the casseroles and murmured condolences from church folks drifting in and out.
Inside, though, I was a coiled spring—every tear she shed winding me tighter, every shudder of her shoulders pushing me closer to the edge of something I couldn’t name.
I wanted to find the bastard who’d done this, put a bullet in his skull, make it right.
But that wasn’t what she needed now.
She needed me here, steady, so I planted my feet and didn’t move.
The deacon—Charles—kept shooting me looks, like he was sizing me up, but he didn’t push.
Good. Didn’t have the patience for questions.
Mama finally eased up, her sobs fading to a shaky quiet, and Hallie Mae untangled herself slow, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
She looked at me, eyes red and hollow, but there was a flicker in them—something alive, something that pulled me in despite the mess.
The church ladies bustled inside, fussing over tea and food, and I stepped closer, voice low. “Where you wanna go? Home?”
She shook her head, slow, like she was underwater. “No.”
Then she surprised me stupid.
“I want to go to your place,” she said, voice flat, tranced. “To forget everything.”
I froze, staring at her, the words sinking in like a punch I didn’t see coming.
Should’ve said no.
If I was a better man, I would’ve—taken her home, tucked her in, left her to grieve properly.
But I wasn’t better.
Couldn’t say no, not to her, not when she looked at me like that—like I was the only thing keeping her from drowning.
“Okay,” I said, throat tight, and turned for the truck before I could talk myself out of it.
She followed, silent, climbing in without a word, and I started the engine, pulling out onto the road toward Dominion Hall.
Every mile, I thought of excuses—reasons to turn around, take her back to her apartment, let her sleep this off.
She’s grieving, she’s not thinking straight, this isn’t right.
But my hands didn’t listen—kept the wheel steady, pushing north, the hum of the tires a drumbeat to the want roaring in my chest.
I wanted her.
Bad.
Had since that first night, since that kiss, since that dream that’d left me hard and aching.
And now she was asking—begging, almost—to come to my place, to forget.
Couldn’t turn that down, not when her voice carried that edge, that need I felt in my bones.
Dominion Hall loomed ahead, dark and sprawling, a fortress against the gray dusk creeping in.
I parked, killed the engine, and she was out before I could open her door—moving fast, purposeful, like she’d made up her mind.
She grabbed my hand, dragging me toward the entrance, her grip tight. “Where?” she asked, voice sharp, eyes darting.
I nodded toward the stairs. “Up there. My room.”
She didn’t hesitate—pulled me along, her steps quick, urgent, and I followed, heart pounding, every excuse I’d rehearsed burning away.
We hit my room, door slamming shut behind us, and she turned, shedding her jacket like it weighed a ton.
“I’m taking a shower,” she said, flat, already moving to the bathroom. “Get in bed. Wait for me.”
I stood there, dumbstruck, watching her disappear behind the door, the click of the lock loud in the quiet.
Minutes dragged—hours, it felt like—each tick of the clock stretching my nerves thin.
I peeled off my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and climbed into bed, sheets cool against my skin.
Someone from the staff must’ve come through earlier—clean sheets, fresh and crisp—because the ones I’d wrecked were gone, a quiet mercy.
I waited, pulse hammering, cock already stirring at the thought of her—wet, bare, coming for me.
Didn’t know what she’d do, what she’d want, but I’d give it to her—whatever it was, all of it.
The shower cut off, and my breath caught, every muscle tensing as the door creaked open.
She stepped out, steam curling around her like smoke, a towel barely clinging to her hips, hair dripping down her back.
A heated angel—flushed, eyes dark with something wild, something that struck me right where it counted.
She dropped the towel, let it fall, and crossed the room slow, hips swaying, skin glistening in the dim light.
I sat up, sheets sliding off, and she climbed onto the bed, straddling me without a word.
Her hands hit my chest, nails digging in, and she leaned down, kissing me—hard, hungry, teeth clashing as her tongue shoved into my mouth.
I groaned, hands clamping her hips, pulling her tight against me, my cock throbbing under her heat.
She didn’t wait—reached down, yanked my boxers off, and took me in her hand, stroking slow, firm, her grip sending a jolt up my spine. If she was inexperienced, she sure as hell was fooling me.
“Yes,” I rasped, head tipping back, and she smirked—sharp, feral—before sinking down, taking me in deep, her pussy hot and tight around me.
A flicker of pain crossed her face, quick and gone, her breath catching as she adjusted to me, her innocence laid bare in that fleeting moment. Then she rode me—hard, relentless, eyes closed, hips slamming down, tits bouncing with every thrust, her moans low and raw.
I gripped her ass, thrust up to meet her, the slap of skin loud, brutal, filling the room with need.
Her nails raked my chest, red lines blooming, and I growled, flipping her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head.
Spread her wide, thrust in deep—harder, faster, the bed creaking under us, headboard banging the wall.
She arched, cried out, her voice breaking on my name, and I bent down, sucked a nipple into my mouth, biting sharp until she gasped.
“Noah—please—” she panted, legs wrapping my waist, heels digging into my ass, urging me deeper.
I kissed her, rough, tongue claiming her, tasting the salt of her skin as I pounded her senseless—every stroke a fire, every moan fuel.
She was mine—open, trembling, her walls gripping me tight, and I shifted, hit that spot inside her that made her scream, her body bowing off the bed. Just like in my dream.
I slid a hand down, found her clit, rubbed it fast— circles, pressure—and she shuddered, came hard, her pussy pulsing around me, soaking me as she screamed my name.
I didn’t stop—flipped her over, yanked her hips up, and took her from behind, deep and brutal, hands bruising her skin as I slammed into her.
She pushed back, met every thrust, her ass bouncing against me, moans muffled into the pillow, loud and desperate.
Reached around, stroked her clit, and she came again—harder, shaking, her voice hoarse as she begged, “More—Noah—please?—”
I growled, feral, lost in her—her heat, her sounds, the way she took me like she was born for it.
Pulled out, flipped her back, plunged in again.
She clawed my arms, nails drawing blood, her eyes locked on mine, dark and wild, begging without words.
Her hands yanked my hair, pulled me down, and she kissed me—hot, messy, tongue tangling with mine as her body tightened again.
“Noah—I’m—” She broke off, came hard, loud, her pussy clamping down, milking me, and I lost it—thrust once, twice, and spilled into her, a groan tearing out, vision blurring as I emptied everything into her.
Her name ripped from my throat, a chant I couldn’t stop, her heat pulling me under, her body trembling beneath me as we crashed together.
I collapsed over her, sweat-slick, chest heaving, her legs still hooked around me, her breath hot against my neck.
She shuddered, clinging to me, her nails easing off my skin, and I rolled us, pulling her on top, her head tucked under my chin.
The room spun slow—sweat, sex, her scent filling the air, thick and heavy—and I held her, hands roaming her back, tracing the curve of her spine.
She fucked me raw, took me apart, and I’d given it all—every thrust, every growl, every ounce of want I’d been choking on since I first saw her.
Minutes stretched, her breathing slowing, and I felt it—soft, wet tears against my chest.
She was crying, quiet now, not the loud sobs from before, but something deeper, something that leaked out after the storm.
I froze, hands stilling on her skin, no fucking clue what to do next.
Didn’t know how to fix this—her grief, her pain, the way she’d just fucked me like she could outrun it, only to crash back into it now.
I’d hunted men, killed them, burned through life with a gun in my hand, but this?
This soft, broken crying on my chest?
I was lost.