Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
NOAH (PAST)
Every time I pounded on the heavy bag, my knuckles stung from the cuts already there with how often I came here at night over the last eight weeks to clear my mind.
No one ever used this room since it was a little far out at the back of the main building, which meant it was perfect for me.
The sound of my fists hitting the leather, over and over again, echoed through the room and provided a short relief for my mind, but it had never been loud enough to drown out my thoughts.
But at least, the harder I hit, the more occupied my hands were from doing something stupid like sending her a text message—her number was in her file—or knocking on her door.
I kept pummeling my fist against the punching bag, letting this craving I had for her melt into anger. Anger at these foreign and intense emotions Amalia stirred in me. At the confusion I felt between the urge to both push her farther away yet at the same time wanting to grab her face between my palms and crush my lips to hers every time she walked into the room.
Anger that I wanted a woman I shouldn’t want.
I sounded like a broken record and it felt like she might be the only solution to fixing this problem I seemed to have. I shouldn’t be this obsessed with someone when I barely spent any time with them.
Maybe I needed her to reject me or say something that would shut whatever malfunctioning gate of emotions she appeared to have fucking turned on. This proximity I had to her every day was not good for me because it kept making me realize one thing I didn’t want to think too much about.
I didn’t want to feel whatever the hell I was feeling for her. It wasn’t even because of her, she was… perfect.
But I wasn’t, I was…
Tainted.
Besides, this wasn’t healthy. I meant, really. This feeling distracted me in class because I could barely stop myself from looking at her any chance I got. And I didn’t get distracted.
That kind of thing didn’t happen to me. I was clear-minded and focused.
Yet she fucked that up too and even the hardest workout bag didn’t seem to stop the frustration I felt against not being able to fix whatever issue I seemed to be experiencing.
“Agh,” I screamed in frustration as I picked up the pace, letting loose a cascade of punches on the heavy bag, each strike harder than the last.
The blaring ring of a phone sounded throughout the room, temporarily pulling me out of my chaotic thoughts. I threw one last punch and briefly collapsed against the leather before backing away from it, shaking out my hands.
I then walked over to the wooden bench where my duffel bag was sitting and grabbed my phone. I answered on the third ring, not looking at the caller ID. “Brown,” I answered, annoyance still coursing through my veins.
“Is that any way to greet your mother, Noah?” My mother lightly scolded me over the line and the sound of her voice reminded me of how much I’d missed it.
I closed my eyes and sighed. “ Lo siento, mamá ? 1 . I didn’t know it was you. Everything okay?” Her voice sounded a little weaker than usual, but I brushed it off because knowing her, she was probably overworking herself at the diner even though she didn’t have to.
“Does a mother need something to be wrong to call her dear son?” I could hear the smile in her voice and it calmed whatever restlessness that was drowning me.
Nothing settled me more than hearing her voice. That was my mother’s superpower. No matter how far apart we were or how long it had been since we’d last talked, she always soothed whatever I was feeling.
“No, but it’s late and the middle of the week, so I just wanted to make sure.”
“I’m fine, baby. Now talk to me about you. I miss you,” she said and guilt gnawed at me. It had been a few weeks since I’d last called her, but with training, it completely escaped me to do so. She spoke again. “How’s the new class? Are you nice to them? I told you many times not to be too hard on them. They need kindness too, baby.” The lilt in her accent grew stronger with each question. It always happened when she got too excited or she was scolding me.
“ Yo también te echo de menos, mamá ? 2 . They’re fine and I am nice. How are you? Will you finally take me up on my offer and retire?”
My beautiful mother, who was already in her late fifties, didn’t need to work. I’d told her too many times to count now that I’d be more than happy to take care of her, but she refused to retire for some odd reasons.
I’m not too old to work. Your mama still got it, she’d say whenever I’d bring it up. One thing about my mother was, you couldn’t argue with her. I’d tried every once in a while even if I knew her response would stay the same.
But that didn’t stop me from adding money to her account every month without her knowledge. She probably did know, but she’d never mentioned it.
“Noah,” she said in the tone she always used before she gave me a lecture.
I chuckled and shook my head. “Right, you still got it.”
“Damn right I do, baby,” she replied, laughing, and I joined her. I didn’t laugh very often, but when you had a mother like mine, her laugh was too infectious not to join her.
“How is it at the diner?” I asked as I sat on the bench, grabbing a towel from my bag to wipe the sweat off my face and neck.
My mother and I had moved back to Morocco from Colombia a few weeks before I turned twenty after I’d gotten an offer to train at the Academy. I’d always refused before because I hadn’t wanted to leave my mother behind or ask her to give up the life she’d built for us there to come back to a place that held so many bad memories for both of us.
The agent that kept knocking on my door, Theo Alvarez (also known as the biggest pain in my ass), had been so relentless that I’d eventually agreed under two conditions—that the Bureau guaranteed my mother’s safety and that she could go back to a place we’d made home whenever she wanted.
So they’d moved her into a small town right next to Bemes and she’d been working at the same local diner ever since.
“Oh, you know, it’s been the same for the last thirteen years.”
“Right, but make sure you get enough rest. You always tend to work too much,” I tell her, worried.
“I’m fine. Besides, I could say the same about you, Mr. I never take vacations.”
I stifled a laugh at the nickname and held my hand up even though she couldn’t see it. “That’s fair.”
She was quiet for a moment, but I knew her too well to know that her next line of question wouldn’t be something I was particularly fond of. “Now tell me, when will you give me any grandbabies? I’m not getting any younger, you know? If you need help finding someone, I could?—”
“ No, mamá . No fixing me up, por favor ? 3 . You know I don’t have time to date.”
Her heavy sigh told me exactly how she felt about my answer.
Besides, it wasn’t like I could tell her about the girl who occupied every inch of my mind because I shouldn’t be thinking about her that often.
I was about to change topics when I felt the heat of a heavy gaze on the back of my neck.
I looked over my shoulder to find Amalia standing right by the entrance. She looked surprised to see me here.
“Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?” I told my mother in Spanish as I kept my gaze on Amalia.
“All right, baby. Visit sometime, ?Vale ? 4 ? I love you.”
“Love you too,” I replied before hanging up.
I pocketed my phone into the side pocket of my bag and brought a leg over the bench, straddling it. “Has anyone ever told you it’s inappropriate to eavesdrop on someone’s conversation?” I asked her, clenching my fingers against the wooden edge.
“It isn’t really eavesdropping if I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said, removing her shoes and placing them inside near the door.
I groaned internally. “What are you even doing here?” I muttered, watching her cross the rubber-matted floor and make her way toward the heavy bags where I just was.
A small frown appeared on her face. She pulled white hand wraps from the side pocket of her bottoms and began weaving them through her fingers. “It’s a gym. What do you think I’m here for?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “It’s way beyond curfew. You’re supposed to be in your quarters.”
She shrugged and pressed a fist to the bag. “I was never really one to follow rules.”
“I can tell,” I murmured under my breath.
She ignored me and gave the heavy bag a few testing jabs before shifting her weight and picking up her pace. How she even had the energy to do this after the day I’d put them through was beyond me.
Amalia’s heavy breathing slowly filled the quiet room and before I could stop myself, my gaze wandered over her body. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a simple black workout set, but anything on her could never be just simple.
Her shorts did nothing to hide the delicious curvature of her ass, one I hadn’t gotten to see that night, and her top gave me a glimpse of her luscious breasts that I would give anything to play with one more time.
My eyes fixated on a droplet of sweat that trailed from her neck and down to her cleavage, disappearing underneath her bra. All I could think of right at this moment was what her skin would taste like.
I wouldn’t put it past myself to get on my knees and beg for it because I still dreamed about her taste every night, despite trying my hardest not to. But could you really blame me when she looked and tasted as divine as she did?
Something about her always seemed to capture all my senses and held me hostage. I still couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but I knew it was past simple physical attraction. Because it wasn’t just that. It felt like something bigger pulling me to her like she was an orbit and I simply couldn’t help but gravitate toward it.
“Are you going to keep staring at me or…?” she asked without looking at me, landing a jab against the bag.
Shit.
I snapped back to reality and chastised myself. I heard her chuckle as I snatched my gaze away. Embarrassment burned my skin and I reached inside my bag to grab my shirt that I’d taken off earlier. I slipped it over my head and grasped my bag, moving to leave, when an irritated groan came from her.
I raised my gaze to find her smacking a palm against the leather in frustration before she shook it off and got into position again. She started whatever sequence she was doing before again, only for me to quickly realize she was going through one of the more complex combinations I taught in class a few days ago.
She was executing it perfectly, until she got to the trickiest part and missed. She stabilized the bag with both of her hands and did it again, only to slip again at the same place.
I should leave, I tried telling myself as I watched her do it over and over again, her irritation growing every time she failed to complete the pattern.
I cursed myself and stalked over to her. I stopped a few steps behind her to avoid getting hit and without overthinking it, I pressed one hand on her back, the other to her stomach.
She immediately tensed under my fingertips, stopping mid-strike. She stabilized the bag before whirling around. Her fist was aiming for my face, but I grabbed it just in time to stop it from colliding with my nose. Then I lowered it and let it go just as quickly.
“What are you doing?” Amalia asked bitterly, glaring at me.
“You’re doing it wrong, so I’m helping you,” I countered.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” she fired back.
“But you need it,” I replied, confused at her animosity. I moved toward her again, but she stepped back, her back colliding with the bag behind her.
“I don’t need you.”
I wanted to laugh at how absurd her aversion to my help was. Of course she didn’t need me. She was great, better than most people I’d ever encountered while doing this job. But she needed to be corrected if she wanted to do the combo perfectly.
That’s all I was trying to do.
Frustration chafed beneath my skin. “God, you’re so stubborn. Why do you always refuse to be helped?” I asked. Why couldn’t she just let me give her advice when she clearly could use it. She did the same in class.
She clucked her tongue. “Ah, right,” she drawled. “Because trying to help me is taunting me and yelling at me more than you do anyone else in the class since I got here. Helping me is making everyone underestimate me from how many times you correct me in front of everyone for the tiniest mistakes I make.”
Taken aback, I frowned. “I don’t yell at you,” I started, but she crossed her arms over her chest, giving me a “you’re kidding right?” look. I ignored her and continued, “I simply correct you because even the tiniest mistake, as you so call it, could end in you being hurt.” I didn’t know when or how my voice had grown louder, but the echoes of my last few words boomed around us.
I thought she knew I was harder on her because I saw the tremendous potential she had and I’d rather focus my attention on her than waste my time on people who didn’t care about this as much as she seemed to.
I took a deep breath in, reined in my exasperation, and looked at her. I held her eyes, unrelenting. “Just let me help you, please .”
She waited a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine,” she grunted out as she faced the heavy bag again.
My heartbeat drummed in my ears as I wrapped my hands over both of hers, her back now flush against my front, strands of her hair tickling the tip of my nose. She sucked in a sharp breath, which only brought her closer.
I couldn’t have fucking put myself in a worse position if I tried. Not only that, but my brain insisted on focusing on how her skin felt against mine again, how she fitted perfectly against me.
I breathed in to calm my overspeeding heart, but this up close, I caught an overwhelming whiff of her musky vanilla scent mixed with her sweat, sending my senses into overdrive.
God, I’m a fucking mess.
Swallowing hard, I smothered the effect she had on me just enough to actually help her like I’d intended to. I proceeded to talk her through each part of the combination, teaching her tricks to make it easier to land every punch with precision.
Once I was done, I reluctantly let go of her and stepped back a few steps. I jutted my chin forward, indicating for her to do it on her own this time. She nodded, got into position, and started the sequence.
When she got to the part where she usually made a mistake, she landed the first hit successfully and completed it almost to perfection.
“Better. Now do it again,” I ordered.
She peered at me over her shoulder and opened her mouth to say something, but I repeated myself before she could. “Again, Amalia.”
She groaned and turned around, following my command. She puffed out heavy breaths as she went through the motions again, improving each time.
We’d been at this for the last hour and it was almost midnight when she finally landed every hit exactly how I’d just taught her. I smiled to myself, a hint of pride filling my chest. “That’s it, Amalia. Just like that.”
Suddenly, she finished the set in a hurry and turned around. “All right, I’m done for the night,” she panted, her chest heaving. She started undoing the wrappings around her hands and moved past me, but I didn’t let her get far.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her in.
She kept her head down and avoided my gaze. Something she never does .
I grabbed her chin between my thumb and forefinger, lifting her eyes to meet mine. There was a flash of something in her eyes, but she averted her gaze before I could decipher it.
“N-nothing, I’m just tired. Like you said, it’s past curfew, so I should go,” she stammered out, yanking her wrist out of my hold and hurrying away from me again.
Shit, did I say something wrong?
“Amalia, wait,” I said, reaching for her once again, but my foot must have caught on something and I tumbled to the ground, inadvertently bringing her down with me.
I wrapped my arms around her body, cradling her into me to shield her from the fall as I landed on my back. The sudden impact drove the air from my lungs and I closed my eyes, groaning internally.
Of course shit like this happens to me.
When air finally filled my lungs again, I immediately asked, “Fuck, are you okay?”
She hummed and slightly nodded against my chest, soothing my worries that I hadn’t caused her to be hurt. For a mere second, her head rested against my chest as we lay there to catch our breaths. But when I finally loosened my grip around her, she pulled back, her hands pushing against my chest to help her up.
Her ponytail had slightly come undone over the last hour and loose strands fell over her face as she looked down at me. Her face was only inches away from mine, the tips of her hair brushed against my skin. My right hand came up, pushing a few stray locks behind her ear while I rested my other one on her thigh.
More of her face was revealed to me, which was when I noticed how flushed she was. I would have brushed it off to the intense workout she’d just had if I hadn’t known what she looked like when she was turned on.
Is that why she wanted to leave?
She raised her gaze to meet mine and in an instant, everything around us faded, my awareness honing in on the glint in her eyes. I could make out every speck of gold in her green irises and my breath caught in my throat at how fucking pretty she was.
My heart increasingly slammed faster against my ribcage, to the point of reaching unhealthy levels. As if my body was operating of its own accord, I slowly, gently , trailed my fingertips from the side of her face down her neck while maintaining her gaze.
When she didn’t stop me, I followed the curvature of her exposed collarbone and kept going down, tracing the outside of her right breast. My thumb featherly brushed over her nipple that was straining against the fabric, like it demanded my full attention.
She shivered under my touch and I continued my path down until my hand landed on her other thigh. My eyes darted to her lips and she must have leaned down further because they were now only a breath away.
It vaguely registered in the back of my mind that this was the second time since I learned she was a student of mine that we’d found ourselves in this position. But this time, I didn’t want to pull away.
I wanted to bury myself in her and remember what she felt like.
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She licked her lips and tried again, my name coming out of her mouth in a whisper this time.
A low growl slipped past my lips at the sound and my gaze darted back to her eyes to see her studying me. The previous glint I’d noticed in her eyes earlier was now replaced with a hunger that I was sure matched mine.
I pushed up and pressed my lips to hers tentatively, her eyes closing at the contact. When her lips didn’t move against mine, I pulled back, flames of shame that I’d misread the situation licking at my chest. “I shouldn’t have, I’m sor?—”
Dazed, she opened her eyes, leaving the words stuck in my throat because in the next moment, her hands grabbed the sides of my face and she kissed me.
She was kissing me, her soft lips moving over mine. I felt an instant rush of relief that she wanted the same. It felt… overwhelming.
Kissing her felt like the wind had gotten knocked out of me, like the earth spun on its axis as our lips met and I was slammed onto my back, the taste of her driving the air from my lungs.
Yet simultaneously, it felt like she breathed life back into me.
I slid my hands around her back and up to her neck, sliding my fingers into her hair and tugging her closer. I licked the seam of her lips, coaxing them further open, and with every swipe of tongue, she rocked her body against mine.
It took everything I had in me not to throw her on the floor, undress, and fuck her until the only thing she could say was my name over and over again in ecstasy.
Lick her everywhere until all I could taste for days was her. Then do it all over again because I knew that once would never be enough. I’d known it that night two months ago and the thought was only being reinforced with the way her sweet moans filled every nook and cranny of my brain.
“Amalia,” I groaned into her mouth.
Her teeth nipped at my lips as she breathed out a, “What?” before kissing me again.
“We should—” I said against her lips between kisses. “We should stop.”
Her lips paused on mine and when I opened my eyes to look into hers, a frown appeared between her brows. Her bruised lips turned down as she lifted her face away from mine.
Before she could misinterpret my words, I moved my hand to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing over her puffed up lips, aiming to replace the scowl there with a smile.
“Let me be clear,” I said, moving my thumb up to gently swipe over her cheekbone.
My eyes flickered between hers as I finally confessed what I’d been denying myself since I met her. Fuck the consequences, I’d deal with them later as long as it meant I could have her. Even if it was just for a little while.
“I want you. In more ways than one.” My hand moved to the back of her head, my fingers gripping her nape and bringing her head down. I pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling away but kept our lips a mere breath away. “I want to see you. I want to fuck you again and again,” I whispered against her lips before nipping at her bottom one and kissing it again. She inhaled a sharp breath and her chest moved up and down, up and down. “But I want to take my time, and not on a gym floor.”
She let out a small laugh and it felt like the greatest reward to draw a smile from her, because God she was a fucking sight when she smiled.
She groaned. “Fine, when you say it like that,” she said before placing a brief kiss on my lips. She then pushed herself up, removing her weight from my body, and I instantly missed her on top of me.
She stood and I rolled to my knees in front of her. My hands trailed up her bare legs and to her hips, holding her. My lips hovered over her front and I looked up, locking my gaze with hers and watching a blush bloom onto her face.
“It’ll be worth the wait, I promise,” I whispered against the fabric of her biker shorts before moving my mouth upward and pressing a kiss to her covered hip bone.
Then I stood, my body brushing against hers in the process. I stole one last chaste kiss on my way up—I couldn’t help myself—then put a healthy distance between us before I went back on my words and had my way with her right here, right now.
I’d barely gotten a taste and I was already insatiable.
She moved to grab her things and I walked over to the bench to grab mine. When I turned around, her eyes were cast downward, her irises slightly widening.
I adjusted myself in my gym shorts and marched over to her. “Eyes are up here, pretty girl,” I teased, something I rarely did anymore, and wrapped my arms over her shoulder, bringing her into my side.
She chuckled and smacked my chest as I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Once outside, I kissed her for a few more minutes before we parted ways. She made her way back to the facility where her dorms were while I walked to my apartment situated a few blocks down the road from the Academy.
After I showered and lay in bed attempting to fall asleep, all I could think of was when the next time I’d get to have her all to myself would be.
1 ? I'm sorry, mom.
2 ? I miss you too, mom.
3 ? No, mom. No fixing me up, please.
4 ? Okay?