Chapter 11 #2
“You didn’t.” Noelle places her hand on my face. Her skin is soft and cool and smells faintly of vanilla. “But are you okay? Really? If tonight’s not a good time, we can—”
“Of course it’s a good time. I set all this up for you so we could have a nice date.”
“But if you have work to do,” she protests. “Since I’ve been here, you’ve been spending so much time with me. Which I love, but I don’t want to keep you from your work responsibilities, either.”
My heart jolts at the word love again.
“You’re not keeping me from anything,” I tell her. “I still do my training in the morning. And I’ve been keeping up with orders and paperwork on my laptop. I wasn’t scheduled for any out of town jobs, so that’s not an issue.”
And since I wanted to stick close to Noelle in case she needs me, my friends volunteered to take on the surveillance part of her case.
Indy’s going to Noelle’s apartment, Ace is tailing Donaldson, and Tyler already hacked into the security system at Donaldson’s apartment building to keep an eye on his activity.
So far we haven’t found anything solid, but like Rafe reminded me, it’s still early days.
But still, I wish we’d found something to go on.
Tracing the burner phones hasn’t turned up anything helpful, since all the calls have originated from crowded areas of Portland where it would be impossible to tie them to Noelle’s former boss.
And the phones were purchased with cash, so we can’t see who bought them.
Tyler’s been looking into the TVs at the diner, but that’s come up empty as well. Apparently, whoever hacked into them—asshole Ken Donaldson, I’m sure—used a program to remotely access the Wi-Fi, then just swapped out the regular programming for a video of Noelle.
“I’m still trying to trace the signal,” Tyler explained during a brief update yesterday, “but this guy is better with computers than I’d hoped. I’ll find something. It may just take a little more time.”
“He’s a sixty-two-year-old artistic director of a theater,” I grumbled in response. “How does he know about remotely accessing a Wi-Fi signal and burner phones?”
“The internet,” Indy replied grimly. “People can find anything they want on there.”
“And the guy has experience with digital cinematography,” Tyler added. “So he’s probably more knowledgeable about computers. I’d wager money that’s why I haven’t been able to find those videos of Noelle on Donaldson’s computer or laptop.”
Because, of course, we’ve haven’t had any luck finding the videos, either. Tyler was able to hack into Donaldson’s personal computer and laptop, but there was no sign of anything incriminating. So it seems likely that the files are stored on a USB drive, just like Noelle originally thought.
A USB drive I could convince Donaldson to tell me about, if I had some one-on-one time with him, that is.
But I promised the team I wouldn’t go off half-cocked and do something I might regret later.
“I know you want to get this guy,” Rafe told me after our meeting yesterday, “and we will. Just give it some time. Noelle is safe here, and that’s the most important thing, isn’t it? ”
Yes. It is. And I’m beyond relieved that Noelle took me up on the offer to stay here. But I want this over for her. And I want that asshole ex-boss of hers punished for what he did.
I can feel myself tensing again, so I forcibly unclench my jaw and take a long, calming breath. Then another.
Not now, I remind myself. This is supposed to be a special night for Noelle. Concerns about Ken Donaldson can wait until later.
“Are you sure?” Noelle presses. “Because if I’m taking up too much of your time during the day…”
“Noelle.” I touch her chin, tilting her head back as I lower my mouth to hers. Teasing her lips open, I plunge deep, exploring the sweet, honeyed warmth inside.
She makes a little humming sound in the back of her throat; half moan, half sigh. Then she grips my biceps and pulls me closer. Her breasts press against my chest, plump and full, and her nipples draw into hard peaks.
My dick jerks as it strains against the unforgiving denim of my jeans.
I move my hand to the back of Noelle’s head, running my fingers through her silky hair.
She makes that sexy sound in her throat again and kisses me harder, then turns in my lap so my erection nudges at her center.
Need throbs deep inside me. Pressure builds. I palm her breast, plucking at her engorged nipple through the silky shirt she’s wearing.
I pull Noelle’s lower lip between my teeth and suck at it. When I nip at her lip, she wriggles her hips, pressing her heated core against my aching dick.
And shit, do I want her.
Right here. Right now.
I could peel away her clothes and do all the things I’ve been dreaming about for weeks.
I could lay her out on this extra thick blanket—and yes, I’m an asshole because I picked it out specifically because I thought it would be comfortable enough to have sex on—and plunge into her tight, slick heat.
I could finally find out what it feels like to move inside her, find out what sounds she makes, how her inner muscles ripple around me, how she looks when she comes…
But.
I want to do things right, starting with making sure she has the date I planned.
So I reluctantly drag my mouth from hers and set her on the blanket beside me. Then I stroke my thumb across her kiss-swollen lips before lightly kissing her again.
As I take a few steadying breaths to regain my composure, Noelle’s expression creases in confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Fuck no.” She blinks in surprise, so I quickly explain, “No, Noelle. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all. I loved everything you did. Everything.”
Her brows draw into a puzzled V. “Then why did you stop?”
“Because I planned a date for you. Dinner. Music. A movie.” I angle my head towards the gift bag. “A gift. And I want to make sure you have all of it. Even if I want you more than I want to breathe.”
Twin spots of pink rise on her cheeks. “You want me more than you want to breathe?”
“Yes.” I rest my hand on her heated cheek. “But with you… I want to do this right. Do romantic things with flowers and gifts and chocolate. I’ll admit, I don’t have much experience with romance unless you count my first date in high school, but—”
“Your first date in high school?” Noelle drapes her legs across mine. Interest lights her gaze. “Was that the only time you did anything romantic?”
I’m already regretting saying anything, but now that I have… Shit. I can’t walk it back.
“It’s not that I was some jerk. It wasn’t like that. I always paid, picked them up and brought them home, all the things my dad told me to do when I was with a woman. But I never planned out a date like this. The only thing even close was with Dana Wilson in sophomore year of high school.”
“And what did you do for Dana?”
“I bought flowers. They were from the gas station, but it was all I could afford. And I—” My face warms. “Remember, I was sixteen. Okay?”
Noelle laughs. “Noted. What grand, romantic gesture did you do?”
I run my hand down her hair before answering. “I brought her to Burger King.”
She snorts, then claps her hand across her mouth. “Sorry. That was rude.”
“No, it’s fine. I know what it sounds like. But in my defense, I had a plan. I brought a white tablecloth and sparkling apple juice. And I set up a table in the corner of the restaurant with it. Along with the flowers, that was my romantic gesture.”
Her features soften. “Well, the tablecloth and the sparkling apple juice are sweet. Plus the flowers. So, I guess for a sixteen-year-old, that wasn’t too bad.”
Shaking my head, I reply, “I don’t think Dana was overly impressed. By the following week, she was dating the shortstop on the baseball team.”
“What?” Noelle’s voice rises with indignation. “She went out with some stupid shortstop after you did all that?”
My lips twitch as I reply solemnly, “Yes. Grady Finklestone.”
“Grady Finklestone?”
“He had a Mustang. Ten years old, but it was still pretty cool. And his parents went out of town nearly every weekend. So…” I shrug lightly. “I guess I could see the appeal.”
“Well, I can’t,” Noelle replies fiercely. “You are way better than stupid Grady Finklestone with his dumb Mustang. I bet he was a jerk. He was, wasn’t he?”
I grin at her. “Kind of.”
“She didn’t know what she was missing out on. But I’m glad. Because that silly Dana didn’t deserve you.”
Warmth expands in my chest. “You think so?”
“Webb.” She gives me a look I’ve come to refer to—privately—as her are you being intentionally dense look.
“I know so. You’re incredible. You’re smart and kind and brave—yes, you are, don’t think I forgot how you launched yourself in front of a motorcycle to rescue me, not to mention the whole flying in war zones thing—and funny and sweet and so handsome I can hardly believe it. ”
I remember seeing a cartoon once where a guy’s chest literally puffed up with pride. That’s how I feel right now, hearing what Noelle thinks about me. And it makes me more determined to prove her right.
“I think you’re the incredible one,” I tell her. “You’re talented. Strong. Funny. Thoughtful. Beautiful. You’re… shit. You’re perfect.”
“No, I’m not. I’m scared and—”
“You are. You’re perfect to me. And that’s why I want to make sure I don’t mess things up. That’s why I want to do my best with this romance thing, even though I’m not sure I’m doing it right.”
“Webb.” Her expression softens. “I think you’re doing a great job.”
My heart jumps.
“Good,” I reply. “I’ll keep trying, though. Practice makes perfect and all.”
On that note, I grab the gift bag and hold it out to her. “Here. It’s not jewelry, but I hope you’ll like it, just the same.”
Noelle takes the bag from me. “Do you see me wearing a lot of jewelry?”
I scan her quickly, noting that no, she isn’t. In fact, all she’s wearing is a pair of small silver hoops in her ears. “I suppose not.”