Chapter 14
NOAH
“We’ve determined that Thomas Noah Peterson’s body is either lost to the waters of Moccasin Lake or…” the gray-headed marshal’s voice trails off for a pause. “He somehow made it out of the water.”
I stare at the screen, my head still resting against the fluffy motel pillow. The TV is playing the late-night news, and Noah snores beside me, though soft enough not to drown out the man on the screen.
“We’ll open the floor for questions now,” he says, his expression stone cold and unreadable. I purse my lips as his eyes scan the crowd of people I can’t see.
“What are the odds that the convicted murderer made it out of the lake?” a woman’s voice erupts from somewhere off-screen.
“Uh,” he pauses, “I don’t think we can put an actual percentage on something like that.
This lake is well known for body recovery taking some time, and the conditions were unsavory for survival, so at this point, we still believe based on the injuries he sustained, it would be unlikely for him to make it out. ”
“Are there any search efforts beyond the lake?” another woman’s voice calls out.
Something that resembles irritation flickers across his face for a brief second before disappearing. “We’re taking the measures that we’re allotted.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” I mumble to myself, scrunching my brows together. I run a hand over my face and glance toward Bullet, who got overheated and moved to stretch out across the floor. His little side rises and falls with his breath.
I close my eyes again, as the news shifts to something else more local and foreign to me, and just as I’m about to drift off, a warm touch grazes the top of my thigh. I catch my breath as Noah’s entire body rolls toward me, the front of him now pressed against me.
He lets out a heavy breath as his hand slides up higher and more inward. It stops just inches from grazing my center. His grip curls into the softness of my inner thigh, and he presses into me harder, his full length hard.
Need—or maybe just straight lust—funnels through my core, and I fight the urge not to lean into him. I want Noah to want me.
But my mind recalls all the coldness from him in the last twenty-four hours. And I roll away from him. Well, try to roll away from him.
His grip on my thigh tightens, and as I land on my side, facing away from him, he drags me back into him. My ass pressed against his cock. He groans into me, his hips beginning to grind.
Arousal floods my core, and I let out a sharp exhale as his lips find my neck. He buries his face there, his breath hot against my skin.
“Fuck, Rue,” he murmurs into me, his voice thick with sleep. It ignites every fucking nerve ending in my body, and I push back into him, a light moan slipping from my lips.
Ugh.
His fingers trail upward, finding the waistband of my pajama pants. I don’t stop him as he slips beneath the material, his calloused hand sliding against my skin. He finds my clit with ease and begins to rub it gently, his cock still grinding into my ass.
He moans into me, his voice tickling my skin, as his fingers dip lower and coat him with my arousal. “Goddamn,” he rasps, just before pushing a finger into me. “Look at you.”
I suck in a sharp breath as he holds me, thumbing my clit and curling his fingers upward. “Oh fuck,” I breathe out, arching against him. He keeps pressing into me, his scent and warmth everywhere.
I shouldn’t let him do this. Then again, maybe I should.
Fuck it.
He picks up his pace, and I roll into him, sweat dampening my skin beneath my sweats. I reach behind me and jerk at the top of his sweatpants.
But Noah doesn’t let me drop them, his arm muscles taught and locked in place. “I need you to come on my fingers,” he growls into me. “I want to feel you soak my hand.”
His words send me into blind want, and I whimper as my eyes squeeze shut, the sensation heightening in the darkness. I rock against him, and he finds rhythm with me until my whimpers turn to ragged breaths.
I explode on him.
My pussy clenches around his hand, and he lets out a satisfied grunt. Before I even come down from the high, my hand is pressing against his waistband again, trying to set his cock free.
I want more than his fingers.
But he stiffens against me for a beat. And then retreats entirely.
No. No, please.
“Noah,” I exasperate, reaching for him as he rolls onto his back and then flips the covers back. The desperation for his heat is almost unbearable. I grab for his arm, but he jerks away. “Noah!”
“We need to get moving,” he deadpans, not even looking at me. He runs the same hand that was inside of me over his face, and then shakes his head. “We need to get farther away from the shitshow.”
“Okay…” I mean, I don’t disagree, but… “It’s eleven, Noah.”
“All the more reason to go.” He picks up his bag and sets it on the end of the bed.
“There’s bound to be more cops at this time of night… I feel like we’re less likely to stand out if we move during the day.”
“There are more people out during the day.”
“Okay, but…”
“But nothing,” he snaps at me, finally meeting my gaze. His eyes are ice cold, with not a flicker of softness. “Get up. Get dressed. Let’s go.”
I cock a brow at him. “Wow, I had no idea you were so… bossy.”
“Ha,” he snorts sardonically. “You really have no idea.” His tone sends a chill down my spine.
This is a new side of you. I flip the covers open and ease upward, my pussy still aching for more of his touch despite his shitty tone.
I make a beeline for the bathroom, glancing over at him as my hand connects with the bathroom lever. Noah’s hands are on his face, his head pressing against their heels.
Part of me wants to go to him, embrace him, and offer to hold him.
But the other part is terrified of what he might do if I did.