Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
ryder
I want to pull her back against me and finish what we started. Slide my hands back under her little red dress, pin her back up against the wall and break down every one of her carefully constructed barriers.
But instead, I shove my hands deep in my pockets, giving her the out she so desperately needs.
“You know...” she says, adjusting her dress back into place. “You could just be a better actor than I thought.”
I know she doesn’t mean to gut me with those words, but they land anyway.
“We just talked about this and you agreed. Nothing about me or what I’m doing is fake.” And that’s the part that scares the shit out of me. “I promised I was going to do everything I can to help you, didn’t I?”
I wasn’t made to feel like this. I wasn’t written for this. I’m the dirty fantasy. The fictional escape.
But there she is, standing before me in that goddamn red dress, looking like every ache I never knew I had, but now wanted.
So I do the only thing I can—drop the charm and let her see what’s really underneath.
“You don’t have to fall in love with me, Noia,” I say with a soft growl. “Just try not to write us off before you give our story a decent ending.”
She just looks at me.
“Fine,” I say, low and controlled. “I’ll clean up. You have a good night. It’s been a blast.”
Nodding once, I step away and start clearing the table in silence.
“Rye—”
“Don’t sweat it. Just go write about today and I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.”
She turns and heads up the stairs.
But just before she disappears at the top, I see the flushed look on her face as she touches her lips, as if she’s second guessing herself.
I sigh as I move to rinse out the wine glasses.
She’s not the only one.
I wake up before dawn with a raging hard-on and the taste of Noia still on my lips. Groaning, I throw an arm over my eyes and try to forget how she looked last night—all flushed and trembling against the wall, coming undone under my tongue, her pussy clenching my fingers tight.
“Fuck,” I grumble, shoving off the covers.
After a cold shower—which does nothing to soften my cock, by the way—I pull on a pair of jeans and a Henley from my newly stocked closet. The house is silent as I pad into the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible.
I need coffee. And maybe a lobotomy to forget the way Noia looked at me last night. The desire and fear battling in those big, blue eyes of hers gives me the nagging feeling I might’ve pushed too hard, too fast.
The kitchen is filled with early morning light as I grind some coffee beans and measure them into the filter. The familiar routine soothes my rattled nerves. Leaning against the counter, I wait for the coffee to brew and stare out the window at the forest of trees.
What if I’m not what she wants after all? What if I’m just a temporary distraction, a character meant to be written out of her story as soon as her writer’s block disappears? And then maybe I’ll disappear.
The thought makes my heart sink with dread.
So, to distract myself, I decide to make breakfast. Grabbing some eggs, cheese, and vegetables from the fridge, I get to work, tossing together some omelets.
The sun is fully up by the time I hear movement upstairs—footsteps, a door closing, water running. My body goes on high alert, every sense tuned in to her presence.
When Noia finally comes downstairs, I’m sitting at the kitchen island, nursing my second cup of coffee.
Wearing jeans and a graphic movie T-shirt, her hair is damp from the shower and pulled back in a loose ponytail. The dark circles under her eyes tell me she didn’t sleep much better than I did.
“Morning,” I say, pushing a mug of coffee across the counter.
She takes the mug, not quite meeting my eyes. “Thanks.”
I motion to the plate of food on the counter. “I made breakfast.”
Glancing at the perfectly folded omelets and bowl of sliced fruit with mild surprise, she says, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
She sits across from me, picking up a strawberry and turning it between her fingers.
Unable to bear it another second, I finally ask, “Are you okay?”
Glancing out the window, she nods.
“Noia…”
She finally raises her eyes to meet mine, and there’s something in them I can’t quite read.
“Do you regret it?” I ask, rougher than I mean to be. “What happened between us?”
Her cheeks flush, but she holds my gaze. “No,” she says softly.
The knot in my chest loosens a little and then pings in surprise with what she says next.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing.” She takes a deep breath. “I freaked out and pushed you away when things got too intense. It wasn’t fair to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Noia. And you don’t need to apologize.”
“That’s not true.” She pushes her plate aside and leans forward.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night.
I stayed up writing about everything—how you make me feel, what I’m afraid of.
..” She takes a deep breath in. “I’m done running and I’m gonna be fully open going forward.
Whatever happens between us...” She slowly breathes out. “I want to experience it. All of it.”
I study her face, looking for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure? Because I’m going to seriously take you out of your comfort zone.”
“Yes.” A small smile plays at her lips. “After last night, I realized it’s what I need to do. What we need to do.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits. “So after I wrote about how I felt, I wrote about everything that happened yesterday. And the more I wrote, the more I realized you were right. I have been using fiction as a shield. You’re not just words on a page anymore, Rye.
” Her finger brushes against one of mine.
“You’re here. You’re real. And I’m tired of being afraid of the unknown. ”
I turn my hand over, palm up, and she slides her hand into mine, making my pulse ratchet into the stratosphere.
“So what now?” I ask.
She squeezes my hand. “Now we do what we agreed to do, continue to live out the story.”
A huge grin spreads across my face. “Does this mean you’ll stop freaking out every time I touch you?”
Her laughs melts something deep inside my chest. “All I can do is promise to try.”
“Good enough.” I pull her hand to my lips and kiss her wrist. “Finish your breakfast, kitten. You’re going to need your strength for what I have planned today.”
“Are you going to tell me this time, or is it another surprise?”
“A surprise.” I wink at her. “But I promise it’ll be worth it. I moved some appointments around, so we have all morning for the first half of the date. Then, after I get home from work, we’ll finish the night out with the second half.”
She grins and takes a bite of her omelet. “Sounds good.”
I take my empty plate to the sink, smiling as I rinse, hopeful that maybe, just maybe, we’re finally on the same page.