Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Rian
After a less than productive meeting with Ransom and Hale, I enter the penthouse with a sigh. We’re no closer to finding out who ratted on us. Hale has made it a personal mission to speedrun through potential moles, starting from the bottom and working his way up the ranks.
He’s officially scared two of our guys to death. But still, no name.
When I slip into the bedroom, the bedside lamp is still on. Noemi is asleep with a book folded neatly on her chest. I gently pull the book away from her, causing her to stir. “Rian?”
“Shh.” Pressing my lips together, I look at Noemi. Selfishly, I’d like to just crawl in bed completely naked and let her touch me.
But I might lose control. And I can’t ever, ever be out of control around her.
You can trust me, Beast says. You know I'd never hurt her.
That's the lie he tells best. I've heard what he wants when he looks at her, the wanting that isn't about keeping her safe at all. He's been with me since I was small. He learned what he is in shadowy rooms that I still can’t talk about. He didn't come out of those rooms gentle.
So no, I won’t be trusting him with Noemi. I keep a foot of mattress between us when I can stand to. People think the walls are about my history, the things done to me. They're not. The walls are a door, and I'm the one holding it shut. Noemi is on the other side of it where he can't get to her.
As long as I'm awake, I can hold it. That's the part nobody tells you about love. It's mostly just staying awake.
Pulling on a fresh t-shirt, I climb under the covers and pull her close.
Noemi instantly burrows against me. “You’re back? You were gone for a long time.”
She's warm and small against my chest and I can feel her pulse hammering through her shirt. My lips find the curve of her ear and I whisper, "I'm sorry."
Noemi pulls back just enough to look at my face. Her dark eyes search mine and whatever she finds there makes her expression soften in a way that cracks something inside me.
"Don't be sorry." She cups my jaw with both hands. "Be here with me."
She means it, Beast whispers. She actually means it.
I kiss her. Slow at first, tasting her, learning the feel of her mouth. Her hands slide up my chest, her touch as white-hot as a branding iron. Every nerve ending in my body is firing at once.
She reaches for the hem of my shirt. I flinch before I can stop myself, jerking back like she's hit me. Her hands freeze in midair.
"Sorry." The word scrapes out of me. I force my breathing to steady, clenching my fists at my sides. "It's not you."
Noemi keeps her hands exactly where they are, open and visible. She doesn't drop them or push forward. She waits, watching me with those patient, coffee-colored eyes.
How can I explain? Talking about this, about the abuse my body has suffered, is incredibly shameful. But for her, I have to try.
I grab her hand, holding it against my chest.
"Nobody has ever touched me for… my sake. Every hand that's been on me was taking something. All of my experiences have been…" I trail off, grinding my teeth. "Against my will."
My face heats. She’s looking at me, her eyes searching my face. What does she see?
Beast is quiet, though I would expect him to have something to say.
"Does my touch bother you?" she asks, quietly.
"No." I shake my head hard. "I fucking love it. That's the problem. It overloads my senses sometimes. My body doesn't know what to do with something that doesn't hurt. Your hands on my skin… they feel too good."
She turns her palm up between us, an offering. "Tell me when it's too much," she says. "I'll stop."
I take her hand. I press it flat against my chest, over my heart, and hold it there. My pulse is hammering so hard that she can probably feel it through my ribs.
"Don't stop," I tell her. "I’m desperate to feel you. Just go slow."
“Maybe this can be both of our first times.” She touches my jaw gently, tenderly. “If you want.”
“Yes, pretty girl.” I kiss her fingers. “I want that. I thought… I thought I wouldn’t ever have sex again. But I want you. I’ve wanted you for longer than you know.”
She nods. Her fingers spread against my shirt, warm and steady. Then she leans up and kisses me again, softer this time, her free hand sliding to the back of my neck. I let her pull me down to the bed.
We land on the mattress together, her beneath me, her dark hair fanning across the pillow. I prop myself up on my elbows, trying not to crush her. She's looking up at me with an expression that I want to photograph and keep in my pocket forever.
Reverent, sacred. Is this what love feels like?
I slide my hand down her body, slow and deliberate. She’s wearing panties and one of my big t-shirts. She arches into my touch when my fingers brush the tiny triangle of fabric covering her pussy. Moaning, I tug them aside and find her soaked, slippery, swollen.
“Fuck, pretty girl,” I breathe. My cock throbs against my zipper.
She looks down, her hair covering part of her face. She’s shy. That’s one of the things I love about her. She’s pure, and I don’t mean some bullshit concept like being a virgin.
Her soul is pristine.
"Tell me what you want," I murmur against her throat. “What do you need me to do to you? Hmm?”
She bites her lip and the flush on her cheeks deepens. "Touch me? Please?"
Running a finger up her slit, I groan. “Like this?”
“Oh.” She nods emphatically. “Yes. But… more?”
I slip two fingers inside her and she gasps, her hand flying to my forearm. She's tight and hot and so fucking wet that the sound my fingers make is obscene. I curl them, searching, and when I find the spot that makes her hips buck off the mattress, I press into it again and again.
"Right there?" I ask, even though I know the answer. I just want to hear her say it.
"Yes. God, yes. Right there."
My thumb finds her clit and I work her in tight circles while my fingers keep their rhythm inside her. She's making sounds that I want to record and play on a loop for the rest of my life. Little gasps and broken moans that get louder every time I curl my fingers.
Make her scream, Beast growls. Make her come so hard she forgets her own name.
"Look at me," I order. Her eyes snap open, glazed and desperate. I hold her gaze while I fuck her with my hand, watching her fall apart piece by piece. Her thighs start to shake. Her walls flutter around my fingers.
Noemi’s hand snakes out to grab my wrist. “Wait. I– I want us to come together.”
My throat closes. Beast makes a sound that I've never heard from him before, something low and wounded and raw. I swallow hard and nod because if I try to speak right now, I'm going to break in a way that I can't put back together.
She cares about me. She wants me to feel good. God, what did I ever do to get this girl?
Other than stalk her for months, buy her from an auction, and kill every man that hurt her.
“Is this okay?” She smoothes her hand across my abs.
“Yeah.” The bullet hole in my arm is healing, achy and itchy, the wound still covered with gauze and tape. I try not to flinch as she runs her hands over my shoulders and chest, tracing the tattoos there.
“Your tattoos are surprisingly intricate.” She pauses to pull the t-shirt that she’s wearing over her head.
Her breasts are two perfect mounds tipped with pink velvet. I reach out and squeeze one, groaning. Leaning down, I capture her hard nipple in my mouth. It’s every bit as soft as it looks, so hot under my tongue. She squeaks, surprised, as I press my face between them, licking her breastbone.
“Now your turn again.” She moves her fingers lower, down my happy trail to the dark curls leading to my cock.
I let her, gritting my teeth through the sensory overload of her fingers on my waistband.
Her eyes fix on my cock, and she sucks in a breath as my rigid cock jumps beneath her attentive fingers. “What is…”
I watch her face as she reads the tattoo etched on my skin.
Her name, NOEMI, inked along my shaft in clean black letters.
I got it three months ago, sitting in a tattoo chair in Brooklyn, hard as a rock while a stranger etched the name of a woman who didn't know I existed onto the most sensitive part of my body.
"That's my name." She looks up at me with a curious gaze. "On your cock."
"Yes."
"You had my name tattooed on your cock before we'd ever met?"
"Yes."
I'm braced for the scream. For the bolt. For the confirmation that I am, in fact, the most unhinged human being she's ever encountered. Beast coils tight, ready for the rejection that he's been expecting since the moment I first saw her through the bookstore window.
Instead, Noemi reaches out and traces it with a fingertip, slow and deliberate. Starting at the N, moving along the curve of each letter, all the way to the I. Her touch is featherlight. My entire nervous system crackles and threatens to detonate.
“How could you get my name here?” Noemi asks, amused. "You're insane!” But her voice is warm, her finger is still moving over the ink.
And she's not running.
"I am." My voice cracks. She wraps her hand around me. I make a sound that should embarrass me, but doesn't, because I'm past the point of caring. Low and wrecked and needy. I don't even recognize it as coming from my own throat.
"Show me." She strokes once, watching my face. "Show me what feels good."
I close my hand over hers and guide her, adjusting the grip, setting the pace. She watches me with careful attention that drives me crazy. She tightens her grip experimentally and my hips snap forward.
I groan, "If you keep touching me, this’ll be over before it starts." I grab her wrist gently. "Take off your panties and lie back."
She wriggles her body to get her panties off like a cat freeing itself from a collar.
I grin. She lies back on the pillow, her dark hair spilling everywhere, her body flushed and beautiful.
I strip off the rest of my clothes and settle between her thighs, bracing my weight on my forearms. My cock slides against her slit and we both groan.