Chapter Ten
Noah
"Lieutenant wants us in his office when we check on shift tonight."
"Uh, sucks for him," I mutter, slipping out the front door with my phone clutched between my shoulder and cheek. "I'm not on shift tonight."
"What the fuck?" Jackson bitches in my ear. "Since when?"
"Since I swapped with Ashton."
"You son of a bitch. You're making me work with Ashton?"
My lips curve into a smirk. "Yeah. Consider it payback for damn near getting me shot last night."
"That wasn't my fault. I told you the fucker was going to try to shoot us. Did you listen? Fuck no. Do you ever listen? Also, fuck no," Jackson says. "Would have served your ignorant ass right if he had shot you. Why aren't you on shift tonight?"
"Busy."
"Right." He snorts. "Creeping on Elsie through the window doesn't qualify as busy, motherfucker."
"Eat a dick." I jog down the front steps, my feet thumping on the cement. "I don't creep on her."
"Uh-huh," he says in a tone that says he thinks I'm full of shit. Whatever though. I don't creep on her. Is it my fault that our living room windows perfectly align? No. Is it my fault I have eyes? Also, no.
Besides, if he lived across from Elsie, he'd be watching her too. She's fucking gorgeous. Actually, scratch that. If he lived across from her, I'd have to kill him. He isn't allowed to look at her. I don't care if he is in love with his fiancée. I don't want his eyes anywhere near my girl.
"Jesus Christ," I whisper, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the street when Elsie wanders into my line of sight through her window.
Faint light trickles through the glass, illuminating her as she paces back and forth across her living room with her phone clutched to her ear, probably gossiping with her bestie back home.
The way she's got her blonde hair pinned up has my fingers itching to search out every pin and toss them aside, just so I can see those pretty curls cascading freely down her back. The curls end just above her waist, accentuating her curvy body in all the right ways.
Christ. Those fucking curves drive me crazy.
Every damn thing about her is soft and sweet. She's a little touch of desperately needed sunshine in my life, one that seems more necessary to my survival every damn day.
The pricks and thieves I deal with every day would never dream of licking frosting from a spoon with relish like she does.
Cocaine residue, maybe. Hell, probably even a few other things.
Neither group cares much for the simple things in life, though.
They live for the next fix or a quick buck.
Never anything as innocent as frosting straight from the container, or control of the remote.
"I gotta go. I've got shit to do," I mutter to Jackson, my feet stalling on the sidewalk.
"Like I said, creeping on your hot neighbor doesn't classify as something to do, Noah."
"We're going out tonight, dick."
"Hoy shit. Is that what last night was about? You finally grew a pair?"
"Man, fuck you. I always had a pair." It's true. I did have a pair. I just needed to remember that the best things in life take a little risk.
Could this end in disaster? Absolutely. Could I lose her forever? Yes. But it doesn't matter if that's a possibility because I'm not going to let it happen. She's mine. I feel that truth resonating in my bones. Everything else can be worked out. We will work it out, but we'll do it together.
"Right. It just took you for-fucking-ever because why?"
I don't have a good answer for him, at least not one he'd understand.
The truth is, she matters more than anything ever has.
I've spent most of my adult life focused on my career.
Being a homicide detective has been what I've always wanted more than anything.
At least, that's what I thought until Elsie moved in across from me.
Somewhere over the course of the last month, I realized that I have a hole in my life, one shaped like her. It's meant to fit not just anyone, but her, specifically. My career will never fill it. Only she can do that.
She's already filling it.
She's made my life better just by being in it.
But I was worried as hell that, if I crossed the line, she'd shut me down.
And then, instead of being invited into her life, I'd be forced into the shadows exactly like a goddamn creep, relegated to watching her through her windows instead of sitting beside her on her old, worn sofa.
That ship sailed when she asked me to kiss her. It exploded into pieces when she came all over my hand and then fell asleep in my arms. I'm not going to pretend I'm not in love with her anymore. I can't do that shit again, not when doing it led to me being a dick and making her cry.
But I do not want to fuck this up. Scratch that. I can't fuck this up. If I lose her, I might not recover. She's quickly become the best part of my life.
"Gotta go," I growl at Jackson, hanging up on him before he can give me more shit about Elsie. He gave me enough shit after I kissed her last night. Frankly, there's a reason I didn't tell him a single goddamn detail while we were running all over Chicago last night. He's too fucking opinionated.
I shove my phone into my pocket and then run my hands through my wild hair for the sixth time in half an hour. "Do not blow it," I mutter to myself before stomping across the street with my stomach trying to eat my asshole.
I've never been this nervous about seeing her before. But tonight? Well, with any luck, tonight will be a whole hell of a lot different than eating dessert in front of her TV or fighting over leftovers in my pathetic excuse for a kitchen.
Tonight, I don't want to walk the eighty-seven steps to my front door while she waves goodnight from her porch.
I want to strip her bare and make love to her on the old chaise tucked into the corner of her living room.
The one she adamantly refuses to throw out, even though it looks like it's been through a paintball war.
It has character, she likes to argue, her green eyes flashing with fire, her little chin turned up, and her hands planted on her hips, as if she's about to light into me.
I always lose that particular argument. Not that I ever make a real effort to win, anyway.
I only goad her about the damn chair to rile her up.
The woman doesn't take any shit from me.
She always gives as good as she gets, and Jesus Christ, I'm dying to give it to her until her curvy little body is covered in a sheen of sweat and she can't handle another round.
"Do not blow it," I mutter again, jogging up the steps to her porch, trying like hell to calm my racing heart and get my dick under control.
Just the thought of watching her writhe above me on that ugly chaise has the hard bastard pressing against my zipper.
My self-control is in tatters, still scattered across her living room floor like shredded paper…
annihilated by the little pair of panties she was wearing when she came all over my fingers.
I've thought about the way she moaned for me incessantly since then. I'm definitely setting a world record for the longest-lasting erection here. Might even tell Guinness about it to get the goddamn recognition I deserve for being a saint.
I rap sharply on the door, refusing to think about her coming for me. I'll be jerking off like a fucking teenager in the bathroom if I do.
Elsie flings the door open in a matter of seconds. Her eyes light up when she sees me, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. She smiles up at me, her cheeks flushed, and I want to drag her into my arms and kiss her breathless.
I realize there's nothing stopping me from doing that this time, so I pull her into my arms, claiming her lips in a deep kiss. I don't let up until she's melting against me, whimpering and clinging to my shoulders.
"Hey, stranger," she whispers when I finally let her up for air, her lips kiss-swollen and her eyes dazed.
"Hey, yourself," I drawl, looking her over.
I damn near groan out loud. I couldn't see it from the window, but her dress, a deep purple that does sinful things to her creamy complexion, ends at mid-thigh before flaring out.
The dark fabric hugs her curves in all the right places, making her look downright decadent.
The v between her breasts teases at a hint of cleavage, just enough to make my fucking mouth water.
How have I kept myself from ravaging her for the last month?
I'm fucking tired of my hand. The endless cold showers are getting old, too.
And there are a helluva lot of those…every damn time I wake up from another dream of taking her over the back of my sofa, on top of the table, or tied to my bed.
There's a never-ending list of ways I want her spread out for me.
But even in the kinkiest, dirtiest of those fantasies, we don't fuck. I'm making love to her.
Yeah, I've got it bad for the sexy little minx. Real bad.
Does she feel the same way?
Christ, I hope so.
I lean forward, brushing my lips against hers in another soft kiss. I want to sink into her and never come up for air, but I force myself to behave for now. I owe her a date before I'm all over her again.
"What do you think?" she asks, giving me a little spin with her arms outspread. She tosses a grin over her shoulder, her dimples flashing at me.
I have to clear my throat roughly before I can summon an answering grin. "Not bad, Dimples. Not bad at all."
She sticks her tongue out at my response before giving me a once-over. Her mouth pops open in shock. "Holy shit. You own a suit?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." I smirk, sliding my hand into my pocket to grab a slip of paper, holding it out to her with a flourish. "I brought you a present."
Another happy grin lights her up from the inside as she reaches for the slip of paper. Her brows furrow as she examines it, and then a loud peal of laughter erupts from her lips. "A coupon? Really, Noah?"