Chapter 24
RUE
The engine block ticks as it cools, the only sound in the suffocating silence of the desert. The heater is off now, and the chill of the early morning creeps back into the stolen SUV, settling over my skin.
And there’s no way I’m sleeping.
I stare at Noah’s profile in the dim light. He’s looking out the windshield, his jaw clenched so tight I can see a muscle ticking beneath his skin. He looks pale, worn out from the last week of running, and the gunshot wound that is currently seeping fresh blood into the dark fabric of his hoodie.
He won’t look at me.
“Noah,” I murmur, my voice raspy.
He doesn’t turn his head. “You really should be sleeping. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m keeping watch.”
“But… There’s nothing out there to even watch. We’re completely hidden.” I swallow hard, fighting the lingering nausea from my concussion. “I think we should… talk or plan or something.”
His gaze remains fixed on the dark thicket, but his broad shoulders stiffen. “About what? The way I suddenly make you flinch when I reach for you? Am I suddenly just like Matthew, too?” The ice in his voice tears at my heart.
“That’s not what it was,” I argue, my voice gaining a fraction of its strength.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, the click loud in the enclosed cabin.
“I think my ribs are bruised. My head feels like it's going to split open. I was just thrown around inside a wrecked Pathfinder, and my nerves are shot. When you touched me, I flinched because I’m in pain, Noah. Not because I’m repulsed by you or something. ”
He finally turns his head, his pale blue eyes catching whatever faint light filters through the windshield. The icy, detached expression he’s been wearing since he came out of the lake falters, just for a second.
“Your arm is bleeding again,” I say, shifting in the passenger seat and turning my body toward him. “You're pushing yourself too hard with all this.”
“Welcome to survival,” Noah mutters, but his voice lacks its usual venom. He leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. “It’ll be fine.”
Except that the bandage needs to be checked.
“Take the hoodie off.”
His eyes snap open, narrowing at me. “What?”
“Take it off,” I demand, reaching out across the center console.
This time, my hand doesn’t tremble, mostly because I don’t want him to die on me or something.
I press my palm flat against his chest. “I need to see the bandage. If you bleed out in the front seat of this stolen car, we aren’t going to make it to Arizona. ”
For a moment, I think he’s going to push me away and tell me to go to sleep again. He stares down at my hand against his chest, watching the way my pale fingers curl against the dark fabric. Beneath my palm, his heart is hammering—a frantic, heavy rhythm that entirely betrays his calm exterior.
“You don’t need to play nurse, Little Rabbit,” he says, the nickname slipping out low and gravelly.
“I’m not playing anything,” I snort. “Lean forward.”
A heavy, charged silence stretches between us, drowning out the whistling wind outside. Finally, Noah lets out a ragged exhale and leans forward.
Because of the tight space in the front of the SUV, I have to lift myself onto my knees, hovering over the center console to help him. The proximity is immediate and charged. My knees press against his thigh as I reach for the hem of his hoodie, carefully pulling the fabric up over his torso.
It takes the T-shirt with it.
He grunts in pain as he maneuvers his injured left arm out of the sleeve. I toss the blood-stained hoodie and shirt into the backseat, where Bullet is sound asleep, and turn my attention back to Noah.
In the dim light, the physical toll of his escape is undeniable. His chest and abdomen are marred with fresh cuts and dark bruises from the lake debris. I trace my fingers lightly over a purple bruise near his ribs, my breath catching in my throat.
He is so incredibly battered. And it’s all really because my dad framed him.
And me. I did it, too.
“It all looks worse than it is,” Noah murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.
I lift my eyes to his. We’re mere inches apart now. I can smell the motel soap on his skin, mixed with the scent of him and the cold desert air. His gaze is no longer icy or detached; it is entirely consumed by a dark, desperate hunger that sends a blast of warmth straight to my core.
That’s the Noah that took me in the woods.
I reach for the gauze wrapped around his bicep. The white tape is stained red, but the bleeding seems to be slowing. I press my fingers gently against the edge of the dressing to check the tension.
Noah sucks in a sharp breath.
His right hand suddenly shoots up, wrapping around my wrist like a vice. His grip is iron-clad, stopping my movements entirely.
“What?” I choke out, my pulse skyrocketing.
His chest heaves beneath me. The wall he has been desperately trying to keep between us since the motel room completely shatters.
“If you keep touching me right now, Rue,” he warns, his voice a dark, raw scrape in the quiet cabin, his grip tightening as he pulls me a fraction closer. “I’m not going to be able to stop.”
I swallow hard, ignoring the buzzing in my ears. “I don’t want you to.”
“You have a concussion.” His grip tightens.
I lean forward, my nose brushing his and my lips hovering just above his. “Then you can blame that.” My free hand finds the top of his thigh, and I ease upward, feeling his body tense beneath me.
Please, Noah. Please, let me be close to you.
His chest heaves as I reach his cock, feeling the hard length through his sweats. “Rue,” he rasps, his hand comes down to mine, stopping it.
A wave of disappointment hit me, and I braced as I looked up at him.
“Yeah?”
His face darkens. “Take off your pants. Now.”
Oh fuck.
I kick my shoes off and then start to slide down my pajama pants and the underwear beneath them, but he stops me, grabbing the black lace.
“Leave those on. Just in case.”
I nod and then slide out of my pants, as Noah pulls out his cock, stroking it as he watches me. He uses his injured arm to work his shaft, and then adjusts the seat all the way back, and lifts the steering wheel as far as it’ll go.
“Come here,” he barks, reaching across and finding my wrist. There’s nothing gentle about the way he pulls me to him, over the console, and into his lap. I straddle him, the head of his cock brushing against the thin black material covering my pussy.
A sharp breath leaves my lips as his hands brush my bare stomach beneath my shirt. His eyes fall to the space between us, my pussy hovering over his dick, and then back to his hands. He raises his hands, rolling the T-shirt up to his wrists.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, as his fingers push my bra up with ease, my breasts dropping for him. His eyes linger on them, his thumbs brushing my knuckles. “Sit on my cock.”
My heart pounds in my ears as I reach between us and slide my underwear to the side. I ease onto him, my breath stuttering as he rubs circles on my nipples.
His gaze jumps up to mine as I ease down him, pleasure contorting his expression. “Fuck, that’s it. Take me, baby.”
I bite down on my lower lip as I finally plant myself all the way down on his lap, fully burying him inside of me. “Noah,” I whimper, and then lean in, going for his mouth.
He’s hesitant as my lips connect with his, and I try to ignore the pang of rejection that tries to replace the arousal by grinding my hips against him and nipping at his lower lip.
That breaks him open.
His hand shoots up, threading through my hair and holding the back of my head. His lips part, and his tongue canvases my mouth, deepening the kiss. I rock my hips back and forth, hitting just the right spot.
I squeeze my eyelids tighter, the throbbing of my head yielding to the all-encompassing feeling of Noah. His right hand slides around my waist and finds my ass, digging his fingertips into me, and adjusting my movement.
“Come on, baby,” he rasps into my mouth. “Ride this cock.”
I whimper into him, and then move faster, the high of my pleasure drowning out everything else in the moment. My muscles tense around him, falling forward, burying my head in the crook of his neck, and inhaling him.
“Don’t give up, Little Rabbit,” he groans, placing two hands on my ass and driving my body as I grow tired. “We’re not stopping until you come all over me and I fill you up.”
“Noah,” I pant, digging my nails into his shoulders as he thrusts upward to meet me. I take all of him, until the ecstasy crests, and I come, my body racked with pain and pleasure—all mixed together.
“Oh shit,” Noah’s voice deepens, his movements growing jerky. He lets out a long groan and then releases deep inside of me, his breath ragged, and pants when he finally stills.
I leave my head resting against his chest, clinging to him as if he’s all I have.
Because really… He is.