Chapter 18
Rook
Rook didn’t let go of Avery’s hand the entire walk down the hallway.
He didn’t trust himself to. He didn’t trust the world not to take her from him if he loosened his grip for even a second.
The clubhouse was quieter back here, the music a distant thrum, the voices muffled. Avery stayed close, her shoulder brushing his arm with every step. Every touch sent a warm, dangerous pulse through him.
He stopped at his door.
“You’re staying with me,” he said.
She didn’t argue this time. Just nodded, eyes wide and tired and still a little shaken.
He opened the door and stepped aside. “Go on.”
She walked in slowly, taking in the room: the dark walls, the neatly made bed, the shelves lined with books and gear, the faint scent of leather and cedar.
His world. His space. His sanctuary.
And now she was in it.
Rook shut the door behind them, locking it out of instinct. Avery jumped slightly at the sound.
“Hey,” he murmured, stepping closer. “You’re safe.”
She nodded, but her hands were trembling again.
He hated it; someone had scared her, and he hadn’t been there to stop it.
“Sit,” he said gently.
She sat on the edge of his bed. He crouched in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. Heat stole her breath for a beat, but she didn’t pull away.
“You okay?” he asked.
She swallowed. “I… I think so.”
“You don’t have to be,” he said. “Not with me.”
Her eyes softened. “Noah…”
He shouldn’t have looked at her then. Shouldn’t have let himself see the way she was looking at him, as if he were something she could trust.
But he did.
And it wrecked him.
He stood slowly, offering her his hand. “Come here.”
She took it.
He pulled her up gently, guiding her closer until she was standing right in front of him, her chest brushing his. She tilted her head back to look at him, eyes wide and searching.
He lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb along her skin. She leaned into the touch like she’d been waiting years for it.
“Noah,” she whispered, breath trembling. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
His voice dropped, low and rough. “If something scares you… you reach for me. I’m the one who comes.”
He didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was both of them, pulled together by something that had been building for years.
But suddenly her hands were on his chest, and his mouth was hovering just above hers, and the air between them was hot and thin and electric.
He shouldn’t have leaned in. He shouldn’t have let himself get close enough to feel her breath on his mouth.
But he did.
For a second, one dangerous, breathless second, he almost kissed her.
Not the kiss he’d been imagining for years. Just the edge of it.
Her lips parted. His hand tightened on her waist. The air between them thinned.
He stopped himself. Barely.
“Aves,” he breathed, the words brushing her lips. “Tell me to stop.”
She shook her head. “Don’t.”
That was all he needed.
His control snapped.
He kissed her.
Slow at first, careful, reverent, like he was afraid she might break. Her lips were soft, warm, familiar in a way that made his chest ache.
Then she made a small sound, a soft, desperate little exhale, and Noah lost the last of his restraint.
Heat surged between, a rush of everything they’d buried, everything they’d lost, everything they still wanted. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. He groaned softly against her mouth, the sound low and helpless, like she’d knocked the breath out of him.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, guiding her deeper into the kiss. Her lips parted beneath his, and the world narrowed to the warmth of her mouth, the soft gasp she made, the way she pressed against him like she couldn’t get close enough.
He’d imagined this a thousand times. None of it came close.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard, foreheads resting together, hearts pounding in sync.
Avery’s voice was barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to fall apart tonight.”
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. “You didn’t fall apart,” he murmured into her hair. “You called me.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “I guess I did.”
“Good,” he said softly. “You keep doing that.”
He guided her toward the bed, pulling back the blankets. “Lie down.”
She hesitated. “Noah…”
“I’m not touching you,” he said softly. “Not like that. Not tonight. You’re exhausted.”
She exhaled, relieved and disappointed all at once.
He lay down beside her, pulling her gently into his arms. She curled against him without hesitation, her head on his chest, her hand resting over his heart.
He felt her breathing slow. Felt her body relax. Felt the moment she finally let go.
She fell asleep in his arms.
Noah stared at the ceiling, one hand stroking her hair, the other wrapped around her waist.
He’d held her once before — years ago, in a bakery after closing, when they were too young to understand what they were feeling.
But this was different.
This was everything he’d been running from. Everything he’d been missing. Everything he’d never stopped wanting.
He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.
“Sleep, Aves,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
And for the first time in years, Noah Carter fell asleep holding the only girl he’d ever loved.