Chapter 38
Bea
I get next to no sleep, and the next morning my head feels like it’s wrapped in cotton; the world is a blurry afterimage of last night’s intensity.
The taste of Noah’s lingering kiss on my lips makes me bury my face into the pillow, trying to muffle the scream I want to let out.
Excitement, fear, and a little bit of shame is a scary combination before I’ve even had my morning coffee.
Why did he have to complicate things? Why did I let him? Do I want this too?
When my mind refused to turn off last night, I opened my laptop and began typing up our agreement.
I thought seeing it written out would help the rules feel more concrete, but they just got me excited to see him all over again.
The rules were supposed to make things easier, clearer.
But all they’ve done is draw lines we both can’t wait to cross.
And now I’m left here, tangled in sheets that hold no warmth because I decided to be petty and wash his scent away, wondering how long I can last without climbing Mount Noah at work, and grateful it’s Friday so I’ll only have to last the day, if I can.
I roll out of bed and force myself to focus on something, anything other than the swirling thoughts about Noah whispering about being dirty animals together at night. Today needs a fresh start, or at least a well-dressed one.
I stand in front of my closet, taking more care than usual in selecting my outfit.
After a few moments of deliberation, I settle on a crisp red blouse that makes me feel both empowered and elegant, paired with a high-waisted pencil skirt that makes Noah do a double take every time he thinks I’m not watching.
The right outfit can be an armor, and today, I feel like I’m going into battle.
The memory of Maeve’s Executive piece makes me sigh; that thing would sure boost one’s confidence by a hundred points.
As I step into the office, I’m unusually aware of every sensation—the click of my heels on the polished floor, the cool air against my skin, the faint buzz of quiet conversations around me. The office is almost empty at this early hour, but to me it feels extra loud today.
I settle at my desk and boot up my computer, grateful for the mundane task of checking emails.
My fingers hover over the keyboard when I hear the elevator ding at the end of the hallway—despite the office buzz, my ears still pick out the sound.
I don’t have to look up to know it’s him—the air shifts when Noah King enters a room, like gravity suddenly remembers it has a job to do and pulls me toward his magnificent body.
“Good morning, Beatrice.” His voice slides over my name like silk, and I hate how my pulse jumps at the first notes. Pathetic, Bea. Pathetic.
I force myself to look up slowly and very professionally. “Good morning, Mr. King.”
He’s wearing a fit charcoal suit, and with those bruises turned into an interesting shade of purple, he looks rather striking. When he stops at my desk, I catch a whiff of his cologne that’s been haunting my room since he left.
“Any fires I should know about?” He leans against my desk, just close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. The position feels deliberate. “Any donut crumbs I need to eat?”
When I look up, I find him with a one-sided smile and that dimple of his that rarely makes an appearance. I fight the urge to smile back.
“Three urgent emails from the Newside contractors, two from legal about the permits, and,” I pause, scrolling through my screen, hyperaware of how intensely he’s watching me. “Rebecca called. Twice.”
He groans with annoyance. “The next time she calls, you can tell her to keep the winnings and to forget this number. Or I’ll have to ask Dante to remind her. That should do the trick.”
“Can’t you do it yourself?”
“I can. But won’t you want to do it instead? You know, to make sure I keep my promise.” His face stretches into a full, wide smile that makes him look boyish.
My lips twitch, revealing that I’m secretly happy with the choice he’s making for us both—we are carefully acknowledging that yesterday did happen.
“I suppose I would,” I admit, trying to keep my voice neutral even as satisfaction curls warm in my chest. “Though I’m sure she’ll be devastated to lose her best fighter.”
“Second best,” he corrects, straightening from my desk with a smile. “That guy nearly knocked me out, remember?”
“Nearly.” The word slips out before I can stop it—seems like I’m defending him from himself. “You were distracted.”
“Yes,” he says quietly, holding my gaze. “I was.”
The memory of our goodbye kiss heats up the air twenty degrees, and I nearly feel the phantom of his lips against mine and taste the desperation in that singular kiss that couldn’t lead to anything else until Noah heals up, and I feel awful for aggravating his pain with our activities.
“Your nine o’clock is here,” I say, tightening my fingers on my pen and breaking the spell before it can pull us under. I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but there’s a place for everything, and my desk at eight thirty a.m. is not it. “Conference room three.”
He nods but doesn’t move immediately. Instead, he reaches past me for the stack of contracts on my desk, his arm brushing mine. The contact is brief, barely there, but it sends tingles up my spine.
“These need signatures?” His voice is perfectly professional, but I catch the slight roughness underneath.
“Yes.” I swallow. “I’ve flagged the pages.”
“Efficient as always.” He takes the stack, his fingers grazing mine in the exchange. This time I know it’s deliberate. “What would I do without you?”
“I shudder to think, Mr. King.” I manage a teasing smile, even as my overly excited heart hammers in my chest. “You’d be drowning in paperwork and miscommunication, I’m sure.”
Noah chuckles, a low, rich sound that warms me from the inside out. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time I consider firing you.” He winks, and my stomach somersaults. “Can you please accompany me to make sure the conference room is ready? I wouldn’t trust anyone else with such a task.”
“I’m glad I’m such an asset to the company,” I retort, straightening my blouse. “You’d better not keep your nine o’clock waiting any longer, or I may be forced to rescind my irreplaceability.”
“Perish the thought.” He gestures grandly toward the elevator. “After you, Ms. I-Single-Handedly-Keep-King-Developers-Afloat.”
“I know my worth, Mr. King,” I say over my shoulder, striding toward the elevator with all the poise I can muster while swaying my butt. “It’s about time you did too.”
“Oh, Beatrice, I know that too.”
His voice makes its way to my thighs, and I try to rub them against each other discreetly.
Two guys from the IT department follow us, but Noah steps in front of the doors before they can enter. “Take the next one.”
They glance between each other and nod.
The elevator doors close behind us, and we’re plunged into a moment of charged silence. I’m hyperaware of his presence, so close I could easily reach out and touch him. Instead, I fold my hands in front of me and stare at the numbers above the door, willing them to move faster.
Noah’s arm suddenly shoots forward and presses the emergency stop button on the control panel, and the elevator comes to a halt.
“What are you doing?” I ask, feeling my eyes widening when he takes a slow step toward me.
Noah’s intense gaze locks on mine as he takes another step. “I’ve been thinking about all those rules we made.” His voice is low and rough with loud desire.
I swallow hard, trying to calm my heart pounding in my ears. “Mr. King, this is a really bad—”
He cuts me off with a shake of his head. “Noah,” he corrects softly, his hand coming to rest gently on my cheek. “Call me Noah. I like how my name sounds on your lips. And here, it’s only you and me.”
I draw in a shaky breath as his thumb gently caresses my cheekbone. “Noah, this isn’t… w-we shouldn’t—”
His other hand comes up to frame my face, his warmth searing into my skin. “I know the rules, Beatrice. And I want to break them anyway. Can I break them, Beatrice?”
We are alone in the elevator. It should ring some warning bells in my head. But we were alone in my place too. And we are alone in his office all the time. At the construction site. What’s different now?
Maybe his begging but patient eyes. Maybe it’s the open vulnerability in the way he handed me the control. The control is mine, I realize that. That’s the difference between now and the Commerford incident. I have control.
One short nod, and his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is far from gentle. He devours me while his tongue seeks out mine in a hungry, desperate dance.
His hands are everywhere, molding my body to his, as if he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.
And maybe he has, I think hazily, as he picks me up effortlessly and presses me against the cool elevator wall.
His hips grind against mine, and I moan into his mouth, arching my back to get closer. This is wrong, part of my brain screams, but it’s drowned out by the louder, more insistent voice that begs for more. We made the rules, and we can break them.
Noah’s hands roam down my body, seeking out the buttons of my blouse. He’s an expert at unraveling me, both literally and figuratively, and I wonder how many other women have been in my position.
The thought should repulse me, but all I can feel is him. His lips trailing down my neck, his hands under my skirt, and the heat coiling low in my belly.
The elevator feels a hundred degrees warmer, the air thick with our matching breaths. I grip his lapels, my fingers curling into the expensive fabric as the stubble on his jaw grazes my skin.
The cramped space of the elevator only adds to the intensity of the moment, the world shrinking down to just the two of us.
Noah’s hips press against mine, his erection leaving no room for misunderstanding, and desire pools low in my belly.
I don’t know how long we stay like this, in our own private world, but it feels like both an eternity and a fleeting second.
As if sensing my thoughts, Noah pulls away enough to trail kisses along my jawline and pauses next to my ear.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, Bea,” he says, and I shiver at the endearment.
“To fuck you in this elevator.” A kiss to my temple.
“On my table.” A nibble on my ear. “On your desk.” A kiss. “Against my window.”
My brain screams at me to stop him, to remind him of the consequences, but my traitorous body has other plans. I tilt my head, giving him more access.
“Are you okay in there?” A sudden, metallic voice comes from somewhere around us, making my eyes go wide.
Noah pulls away and drops his forehead to mine.
“Is anyone injured?” the voice continues.
Noah gently lowers me to the floor and steps toward the control panel.
“We are fine,” he says, releasing the stop button. “It’s working. It’s Noah King.”
“All right, Mr. King. Do you need any assistance?”
“No. All good.”
The elevator jerks to life, the sudden movement sending a shot of adrenaline through my veins.
Noah straightens his suit jacket, throat bobbing as he struggles to regain his composure.
I smooth out my skirt, feeling my burning cheeks and pounding chest. The air between us is thick with electricity as the elevator resumes its ascent.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” I start weakly, not convincing even to myself.
“It should have. And I want to repeat it.” He turns, locking his eyes with mine. “I need you to tell me if that’s okay, Bea. Because I want to cross the line we both can’t uncross, and I need to know if you’re okay with that. Are you okay with that?”
A torrent of emotions washes over me. The vulnerability in his eyes is at odds with the confident facade he usually projects. Once we cross this line, there’s no going back.
“Noah,” I whisper, scared that he might actually listen to me. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
He steps closer, gently cupping my cheek with his hand. “Neither do I, Bea. But I know I can’t go back to where we were. Not after everything.”
The elevator doors open. He steps out first and turns to look at me. “Think about it, Bea. Think really good. I’ve never been with anyone more than a couple of nights and don’t know how to play house. Being with me might be hard. Harder than you are willing to take on.”
I feel a smile tugging on my lips. “You are really selling this whole thing.”
Noah gives me a crooked grin. “I’m just keeping it real. I don’t want you to have any illusions about what you’re getting into.” The doors are about to close, but he stops it with his arm. “But, Bea, I can promise I’ll try harder than I’ve ever tried in my life.”
The doors close, leaving me alone in the elevator with my heart pounding somewhere in my throat, forgetting which floor I should be going to. Noah’s words echo in my mind, and I can’t shake the feeling that he just flipped our whole worlds upside down because there’s no way I could go back now.
After a moment, I straighten my clothes and take a deep breath. Noah King is awful, demanding, and has been treating me like shit from our first meeting. But he’s also thoughtful, protective, and sweet. The last few days have shown me another side of him I didn’t know existed.
A cinnamon roll wrapped in a bad-boy foil and sprinkled with tortured artist. How can any woman resist that?