2. Georgia
Chapter two
Georgia
A shift in the bed wakes me. I open my eyes and blink against the darkness, trying to focus. Recognizing Noah’s silhouette as he climbs in beside me, I sit up quickly. “Noah, what are you doing?”
“Relax, Georgia. It’s just a bed. We’ve shared one countless times. Let me sleep here. I’m not going to pull anything.”
Even if I said no, he’s already managed to slip under the covers. I debate moving to a different room. Obviously, this isn’t a good idea. There’s no way he won’t try something. With us in the same bed, sex feels inevitable, and I don’t want to confuse him. But when I look over, he’s asleep.
Go figure.
I slide back down, resting my head on the pillow. My post-orgasm high had knocked me out, but now that I’m wide awake, shame lingers in the front of my mind. I totally masturbated to Noah’s father. What the heck is wrong with me?
Giving Noah my back, I close my eyes, trying not to think of the tall, dark, forbidden man who embedded himself in my sexual fantasies.
Pounding on the bedroom door jolts me awake. I try to maneuver out from under the blankets, realizing I’m trapped under Noah’s leg and arm.
The banging sounds again, louder this time.
“Jesus, stop,” Noah mutters.
The door swings open, and my breath catches as his father steps inside, filling the doorway with his imposing presence. “I’ll stop when you get up. We had a deal.” My breath catches, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“I’m willing to venture you’re here to fuck.”
“We’re just sleeping. Not a big deal.” Noah shifts off me and sits up. I follow, remembering I’m only wearing an oversized T-shirt. I glance over at Noah, who’s in nothing but boxer briefs, and more heat floods my face.
“Is that so?”
At his question, I make the mistake of meeting his gaze. His eyes lock on mine, burning with the same intensity as last night. It stirs something inside me, making my thighs quiver. He doesn’t seem to care that his son is beside me as his eyes roam over me. I sit, frozen, wishing I could cover the way my nipples have hardened beneath my shirt.
Noah’s hand lands on my bare thigh, and I jump.
“Relax, he’s all bark, no bite. Dad, it’s fine.”
I’m not so sure about that.
He finally releases his hold on me and addresses Noah. “My house, my rules. Separate rooms. Now, get up and get dressed. I don’t appreciate tardiness on your first day.” Then he’s gone.
The tension in my chest releases in a quiet rush of breath. Noah pushes the covers back and stands, the warmth from moments ago vanishing as his posture stiffens. His expression shudders, eyes cooling to something unreadable—distant. Detached.
“Gonna get ready. Meet you downstairs,” he says, his tone clipped. Then, he strides down the hall without a backward glance.