Epilogue
Two Months Later
The sun is relentless here. It beats down on the deck with an intensity that makes everything shimmer, the water, the sky, even the air itself seems to vibrate with heat. I'm lying on a lounge chair, supposedly reading, but I haven't turned a page in twenty minutes. I can't stop watching Noah.
He's alternating between press-ups and sit-ups on the deck, wearing only his swim shorts, his body moving with ease like those professional gym influencers you see online.
The sun has turned his skin the color of burnt honey, and his tattoos are fucking stunning, the array of patterns spanning his shoulders, the symbols winding down his ribs, the intricate designs covering his arms and neck glow against his tanned skin.
He's beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.
The muscles of his chest contract and release with each movement.
His shoulders are broad, powerful, built for strength and controlling me in bed.
There's a thin line of sweat running down his sternum, and I find myself mesmerized by the way it catches the light.
I lick my lips at the idea of tasting him.
I'm swooning. Actually swooning like some lovesick fool.
And I don't care.
Three sit-ups from the end, Noah's eyes open and find me immediately.
He knows I'm watching, the guy has a built in radar when it comes to me.
He finishes the final three with deliberate slowness, making sure I see every muscle, every movement.
It's a performance, and we both know it.
A reminder of his physical dominance and how he owns me in all ways.
When he stands, he's breathing heavily as he strides over to me as if I’m watching a scene in slow motion, sweat dripping down his body, and I have to force myself to breathe normally.
"You're staring," he says.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you're gorgeous." The words come out before I can stop them. "Because the sun makes your skin look like gold and your tattoos look like they're alive and I can't stop thinking about…"
“About what, baby?” he asks, his voice low as he leans down over me, caging me in between his strong arms.
“How they look when you hurt someone. I can’t stop thinking about how they look when you fuck me,” I pant, delirious as if I’ve been drugged.
He leans down closer and kisses me, cutting off the rest of my rambling confession. When he pulls back, there's something almost like amusement in his eyes.
"Looks like someone is horny," he says.
"Obviously."
I glance toward the interior of the yacht, where the staff moves silently through their duties. I noticed when we arrived that none of them looked at me or even spoke to me, and it’s pretty weird to be so obviously ignored, but I know why.
"You told the crew not to acknowledge me, didn’t you? You threatened them." Noah's expression hardens slightly.
"Yes," he says before he moves back and sits on the edge of my lounge chair, his wet body dripping onto the cushion. "I made it very clear what would happen if any of them looked at you. If they spoke to you or acknowledged your presence in any way beyond absolute necessity."
"Everyone is always so terrified of you," I say.
He reaches out and traces a line down my bare chest. "That's exactly how it should be. You're mine. And anyone who forgets that will learn the hard way."
A deckhand passes by, carefully keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon, he doesn't even glance in our direction, almost as if we do not exist, but the fear radiating off him is almost palpable.
I guess when you tell someone not to look or talk it makes it harder for them, as humans are naturally curious and social, to an extent.
I decide to change the subject so I can at least calm down the hard dick in my shorts.
"My books are doing well, and I have more pre-orders for the third installment.”
"I know, I checked yesterday." Of course he did.
Noah's fingers continue their lazy path across my skin. He leans down and kisses my forehead. Before he can go any further, my phone buzzes from the table next to my sun lounger. It’s a FaceTime call from Tyler.
I hesitate at first, glancing at Noah before he nods, but not without a deep sigh of annoyance.
I answer, and Tyler's face fills the screen, Ivan visible behind him on the couch.
"Hey!" Tyler's voice is bright. "How's Miami?"
"Too damn hot, but I’m enjoying it,"
"Good. You deserve…" Tyler's cut off as Ivan leans further into the frame, his expression eager.
"Is Noah there?" Ivan asks. "Let me talk to him. I miss my bestie."
I can feel Noah's body tense beside me, with a barely audible groan of irritance.
"Noah, Ivan wants to talk to you," I say and it takes all my energy not to laugh out loud as Noah takes the phone from my hand with deliberate slowness. His expression is perfectly neutral, but I’m sure if he could burn Ivan into dust with a stare through the phone, he would.
"What do you want? Also, I told you to stop messaging me those damn videos," he says quietly.
Ivan laughs and it’s a genuine, delighted sound.
“What? You said not to send you any cat videos anymore and I did stop. Don’t you like the funny dog clips either?”
“Ivan, are you seriously sending him that shit?” Tyler says to him and Ivan shrugs, looking proud of what he’s done.
“He loves it, really.”
“No, I don’t,” Noah says as he rubs his brow in frustration.
"Come on, man, we're brothers now. We date brothers and we kill together, we’re destined besties."
“Stop saying bestie,” Noah growls and not in the hot sexy way he does to me.
“When are you coming home? I’ve spoken to Marcus and he said I can join in when you go by the club to have your fun. It can be like a hobby we do together, you know, like friends who play golf together or…”
Ivan doesn’t finish the sentence before Noah passes the phone back to me, giving me a look of warning as I laugh, unable to suppress it any longer.
“Listen Ty, I’m gonna have to go, but we’ll be back in three days and we can catch up then.”
“I can’t wait to see you. Love you.”
“You too.”
“I love you too and you Noah!” Ivan shouts in the background as Tyler ends the call and I can’t stop the belly laugh that rolls through me. I have to give praise to Ivan for his persistence, as I don’t think he will ever stop.
"Don't tease me about Ivan."
"Too late. There is nothing wrong with a bestie who's desperately in love with you."
"I will hurt you."
"Yeah and you know I love it." I reach up and pull him down toward me.
He doesn't argue and instead he kisses me, slow and passionately, his mouth claiming mine with absolute possession.
His tongue slides against mine, tasting, exploring, reminding me exactly who I belong to.
The kiss deepens, becoming something darker and animalistic.
His hand moves to my chest, and I will never get over how his touch still makes me burn.
His mouth finds my neck, licking and sucking before moving down to my chest, and I gasp.
He kisses the hollow of my throat, then lower, his lips brushing against my collarbone.
My breathing quickens as he moves lower still, his tongue tracing a path down my sternum. Then his mouth closes around my nipple.
The sensation is electric as his tongue flicks against the hardened peak, and I can't help the sound that escapes me, a low, desperate moan.
He sucks gently, then harder, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.
My hands find his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands as pleasure shoots through me like lightning.
"Noah," I pant as I breathe his name like a prayer.
He switches to my other nipple, giving it the same attention, and it’s maddening how slow he is because I need more.
His hand comes up to play with the other nipple, his thumb circling, pinching, driving me absolutely insane.
I'm so fucking hard, my cock straining against my swim shorts, and he knows it as he can feel it pressed against his abdomen as he rests his body on top of mine, the lounger struggling under our weight.
I’m totally lost in the moment until I hear a noise and remember the crew. I glance toward the bow of the yacht where two deckhands are pretending very hard not to look in our direction. My face flushes with heat that has nothing to do with the Miami sun.
"Noah, they can see us" I start, but he silences me by sucking harder on my nipple, and the protest dies in my throat.
"If I wasn’t so protective of you I would fuck you right here, right now,” he says as he reluctantly pulls away. “But nobody gets to watch you fall apart.” He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting mine.
"Three more days, then we’re back in New York," Noah says.
"I know."
"Are you ready?"
I consider the question. Ready to return to the criminal underworld and watch Noah work. To get back to journalling his kills and transform them into bestselling novels.
"Yes," I say. "I'm ready."
"You're excited."
"I'm excited to see Tyler and Ivan, even if you're threatening him."
"We belong in the shadows," Noah says, and I reach up and touch his face.
"You’re my shadow, Noah. Wherever you go, I’ll always follow. Just us."
“Like you ever had a choice, baby.”
"That’s very true. But I’ve come to see the life we live there is more real than the outside world," I tell him. "It's more honest, where everyone is exactly what they are. No pretense.”
"You really want me to fuck you right here, talking like that."
"I’ll take what I can get.”
We lie there as the sun beats down on us, the yacht rocking gently on the water.
The crew moves silently around us, careful never to look in our direction as they prepare lunch.
I've never felt safer or more loved, even though he has never said those words, but his actions tell me I’m his world. Home to me is my person. Home is Noah.
In three days, we'll return to New York and another new chapter starts.
Bring it the fuck on.