39. Willow
WILLOW
Iwanted to drag him into the shower with me, but as I reached for him, he pulled away from the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. I could tell he was fighting the same urge I was.
He kissed my forehead before turning my body and nudging me toward the shower, then walked out and closed the door, leaving me longing for more of his intoxicating kiss.
I quickly undressed and dropped my clothes outside the bathroom door as he asked, then stepped into the shower and shut the glass door. The second I did, the room began to fill with steam. I think that was maybe ten minutes ago.
His scent is all around me, and I feel lost in it. Lost in him. Being around him feels so easy. It’s almost unnerving how calm my body is around him, especially for only knowing him for a couple of days. But as Jenna would say, if ya know ya know.
*Knock* *Knock*
“Willow?”
“Yeah?”
“I put some clothes on the bed, and I’m going to put your stuff in the washer. Do you need anything?”
Yes, you.
That’s what I want to say, but I don’t have the fucking guts to say that.
“No, I’m all right. I’ll be done in a minute.”
“Take your time. I’ll be downstairs.”
I hear the bedroom door shut, and then the silence surrounds me again. Only the slight hiss from the steam function can be heard, apart from the sound of the water. It’s so peaceful, I could see myself living here.
Wait…What the hell? Willow, you do not think like this. You are not the impulsive one; Jenna is. You are the one who plans everything out. You are the logical one. You need to breathe and take a step back. You’ve only just met him two fucking days ago.
But then why do I feel like I’ve known him for so much longer than that?
Why does he make my skin tingle from his touch and burn beneath his lips? Why does my body seem to ignite when he’s around and then dulled to a low flame when he’s gone? I crave him like a fire craves oxygen just to keep burning.
I reluctantly shut off the water, wrap the large, fluffy, black towel around my body, and use the smaller one to wrap up my hair.
My body smells like his body wash, and I love it.
It’s smoky and mysterious. I never knew something could smell fucking mysterious, but that’s the only word I can think of to describe it as I finish drying off.
I poke my head out of the bathroom door to double-check he isn’t there, then walk out and see the assortment of men’s clothes laid out on the bed.
Basketball shorts, a pair of boxers, a T-shirt, a long flannel shirt, a pair of black sweatpants, and a large black hoodie. There’s also a pair of socks and a toothbrush, brand new in the package.
Who the fuck is this guy?
I try on the pants and shorts first, but they are way too loose or too long to even fit me a little. I end up putting on the boxers and the large black hoodie. It’s so big that it swallows me, but I fucking love it. I feel comfortable.
I quickly brush my teeth, then drag my fingers through my damp hair, hopefully able to pull any tangles loose.
I wipe the remaining makeup off my face and stare into my reflection.
There’s a scar on my forehead from that horrible night.
They said I must have hit my head on something as a kid, but my nightmares have shown me the truth.
Over the years, the nightmare of that night has started to come back.
My mother, clutching me to her chest as she tried to run for the back door, only for him to grab her ankle, forcing her to fall onto the kitchen floor. My head hit the ground, but it was the back of my head that hit, not my forehead.
No, that scar that runs along my hairline was from the first time he stabbed her.
I don’t know where he was aiming, but he missed his target, and it sliced along the top of her collarbone.
The blade continued and sliced along my forehead.
She wrapped her body around me more just to shield me from his rage.
My fingers tighten around the countertop edge. I can feel a panic attack coming on, but I need to calm myself. I can’t break down here. Not in Noah’s house. What would he think?
He’d never let me be part of their firm if he knew the truth about me.
The trauma that lingers in the back of my mind at all times.
But what no one understands is that in a courtroom, that’s the only time I feel at peace…
Well, except now I feel that same sense of peace and control when I’m with him.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply, letting my lungs fill with his scent. The warmth from the shower still lingers in the air. The marble counter feels cool beneath my touch, grounding me here. I’m safe.
On the next deep breath, I catch the faintest scent of coffee, and my stomach growls. I flex my fingers, allowing my muscles to release their tension as the panic attack begins to subside.
One last glance in the mirror proves I’m more put together than I saw just a moment ago.
My skin looks brighter and healthier today, despite the amount of alcohol last night and the slight hangover I’m still feeling.
I slept so well. No nightmares…I don’t even know if I dreamed.
I just drifted weightlessly through the serene darkness that surrounded me, and yet I wasn’t afraid.
I quietly open the door and look down the flight of stairs.
Is this room an attic? I glance around one last time at the large space before tiptoeing down the stairs.
They creak as I get to the last couple, then an even louder creak as I step down into the hallway.
This house is huge. Looking left and right, I can see a few more closed doors and a double staircase leading down to the main floor.
I can hear low music playing, and the smell of food hits me. It smells like breakfast. Eggs, maybe bacon, and definitely coffee. Fuck yes.
I make my way down to his main floor. The carpet on the steps feels so soft beneath my feet.
A large wooden front door with frosted glass greets me as I step off the stairs.
It’s huge down here. Much bigger than any place I’ve ever lived in before.
I can hear him off to my right, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. I want to see more of his house.
I decide to go left through an archway that leads into a sitting parlor. A black piano sits in the corner. There’s a fireplace with a large mirror above it. Dark wood flooring and dark leather furniture fill this room. It’s cozy.
There’s another archway on the left wall, and I’m curious if it leads around in a full circle.
The scent of food is practically drawing me in.
As I continue, I find the next room is a dining room with a set of double doors closed on the opposite wall.
I assume they lead to the kitchen because I can hear his music louder in here.
The dining room is huge, too. It can seat at least ten people, given the way it’s set up.
Why does one person need so much space?
The music cuts off, and I quickly make my way back to the foyer just as another song starts.
The other side of the foyer has a set of wide open double doors, leading into what appears to be a small library.
Two chairs are facing each other in front of another fireplace along the wall.
An archway leads to a front room that I swear to God is the size of three of my bedrooms back home.
Yeah, I’m definitely curious why a single guy needs this much space.
The thing that immediately catches my eye is the number of windows overlooking the backyard. The ground has a layer of frost from last night, and the lake is starting to freeze causing chunks of ice to build up along the shore with each crashing wave.
Movement off to my right pulls my attention. I can see Noah in the kitchen with his back to me. He’s wearing black sweatpants like the ones he left for me, and a black T-shirt.
He’s moving around the kitchen so easily as he quietly sings along to his playlist. When he slides across the floor from the stove to the fridge, I can’t help but laugh.
He spins towards me and drops the bowl he was holding.
It crashes to the floor, splashing what looks like pancake batter everywhere.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.”
I quickly run over, grab the towel off of the counter, and kneel down to start wiping off the cabinets.
“No. It’s okay. I didn’t hear you walk in. I guess I was too focused on the music and cooking,” he laughs as he picks up the pieces of the shattered bowl, then wipes up the floor.
It’s only then that I take in his messy look. Pancake batter is splattered everywhere from when the bowl shattered, but he already seemed to have gotten a lot on his shirt. There are also a few splatters in his hair and on his face.
“Did a bomb go off?” I ask, laughing.
“What?”
“A bomb. In the pancake mix.”
“It’s uh…for the waffles.”
He gestures over to the waffle maker on the counter. It’s a vertical one that you fill to make the big, fluffy Belgian waffles. There’s batter flowing out of the top and all over the counter.
“I’ve never used it before, and I think I overfilled it,” he laughs as he wipes a small spot of batter from his face. “Jeremy bought it for me as a housewarming gift. He said waffles are the best breakfast food when you want to impress someone.”
Is he blushing?
“Well, I’m impressed that you managed to get it literally everywhere.” I reach to try to wipe away some that splattered in his hair, but he stops me.
“I’ll go grab a fresh towel.”
“Or you could just give me your shirt. It’s messy anyway.”
He stares at me for a moment before sitting back on his heels.
He keeps his eyes on me as he slowly pulls his shirt off, but mine immediately fall to the skin beneath his shirt.
His body is covered in different tattoos.
No pattern or similarities, it’s like he just chose different pieces that meant something to him and got them done.
There are scars hidden in the ink, and curiosity almost gets the better of me as I study him.
“Like what you see?” he teases, pulling me away from studying the different tattoos.
I want to know what each piece means and why he got them.
“I’m a bit obsessed with ink.”
“Me too, if you can’t tell,” he laughs as he hands me his shirt.
I move a bit closer on my knees and start cleaning up the splattered batter all over him. It’s cute. This big, strong man is covered in waffle batter all because he was trying to make me breakfast.
“So, what were you making for breakfast?” I ask as I start cleaning the batter out of his hair.
Some of it has already dried, so I just run my fingers through his hair to brush it out. His eyes close as my nails scratch along his scalp, and his hands move to my hips to hold me closer.
“I didn’t have everything I needed, so I had some groceries delivered this morning, and I made scrambled eggs with cheese.
I have bacon and sausage ready, and I was trying to make waffles.
Jenna may have told me how you like your eggs.
Oh, there’s also fresh coffee being brewed right now.
I didn’t want to start the coffee until I heard the water shut off. ”
“Why?”
“Because fresh coffee is the best.”
“No…” My voice slightly cracks. “Why did you do all of this?”
We could have easily just gone out for breakfast, or hell, even just DoorDash something. He didn’t need to go through the trouble of having groceries delivered, and now his kitchen is a mess, and his bowl is broken and…
His hand cups my cheek, stopping my spiraling.
“I did all this because I care about you, Willow. A lot. I told you earlier, I want to take care of you. So just let me…Please.”
My eyes shift back and forth between his, searching for any hint of deceit in his words. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve never been able to fully trust a man. Not with my past. But with him, I only see truth in his eyes.
I decide right there, I’m done hiding. I’m thinking logically. I’m done fighting whatever this fucking pull is to him because, goddammit, I want him.
I launch myself into his arms, wrapping mine around him and nearly knocking us over in the process as I kiss him. His back hits against the cabinets as his hands possessively wrap around me, pulling me to straddle his lap.
His hands roam over my bare legs up to where his boxers are hidden beneath the hoodie, and I swear I hear him practically growl in approval of me wearing his clothes. Fuck, why does that seem so hot?
My stomach chooses then to make the loudest, most obnoxious growl I’ve ever heard it make in my lifetime. Embarrassment heats my face as he pulls away, laughing as he rests his forehead against mine. We’re both left slightly breathless from that kiss, and his fingers are pressing deep into my hips.
“Let’s get you some food first, Little Rabbit.”
Fuck. I do not want food right now. But of course, my body betrays me again with another growl. He laughs before tipping my face to kiss me again.
“Go sit on the couch and relax. Breakfast is almost ready.” He glances over at the waffle maker, now smoking from the burning waffle we forgot about. “Well…maybe ten more minutes.”