Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Caroline
I told Noah about Richard’s wild warning the second he walked in the door.
He listened, face gone blank. No smile, no joke, just a tightness around his eyes I’d never seen before.
“Is any of it true?” I asked, searching his face.
He looked down, then back at me. “Not all of it. But I haven’t exactly been honest about my business.”
The air in the room changed—heavier, charged.
“I run the coffee shops,” he said. “And the bakery, and a few other things. But I grew up with nothing. I had to get good at protecting what was mine.”
I waited. My heart thudded, but I didn’t feel afraid. Not of him.
He reached for my hand, squeezed it tight. “I never lied to you about how I feel. Not once. I’d never hurt you.”
I believed him. God help me, I did.
“Are you dangerous?” I asked, voice small.
He exhaled, slow. “Only to people who threaten what I care about.”
I nodded, thinking of Richard. Of the men in the suits, the cars outside the café, the way Noah always checked the street before we walked anywhere.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, voice hoarse.
I shook my head. “I want you to stay.”
The tension snapped. He pulled me into his arms, crushing me against his chest. His mouth was on mine—hungry, desperate, full of the need to prove what words couldn’t.
He lifted me, carried me to the bedroom, and stripped me bare with trembling hands.
I let him.
He traced my skin with his mouth, biting and kissing until I begged for more.
He cupped my breasts, sucked my nipples until I arched off the bed. His hand found my pussy—already wet, slick for him—and he teased me with slow circles, never giving me enough.
When I reached for his cock, it was hard as steel. I stroked him, marveling at the girth, the weight of it. He groaned into my neck, hips thrusting into my palm.
He lined himself up, entered me in one long, slow push. The stretch was perfect, the fullness almost too much. I gasped, and he paused, kissing my eyelids.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Better than okay,” I whispered, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He fucked me slow at first, savoring every inch, every sound I made. Then faster, deeper, his hands gripping my hips like he was anchoring himself to earth.
I came twice before he lost control, thrusting hard, filling me with heat and need.
He held me after, shaking a little, as if he’d barely kept himself together.
“I love you,” he said, voice muffled in my hair.
I didn’t say it back. Not yet. But I thought it, loud enough to echo.
Later, after we showered and dressed, he took my hand and led me to the terrace.
The city was quiet, the sky a navy blanket.
He stood there a long time, holding me, before one of his captains appeared in the doorway.
“Boss,” the man said. “Carter’s not stopping. He’s going to blow it all open if we don’t move.”
Noah stared at the skyline. “Let him. I’ll tell Caroline myself.”
The captain nodded, vanishing into the dark.
I leaned into Noah’s chest, breathing in the smell of him—coffee, spice, something dangerous and sweet.
“I trust you,” I said, barely louder than a breath.
He kissed me, long and deep.
“You should.”
That night, I slept like the dead, safe in the arms of a man the city called a monster.
But in the morning, the monster made me coffee, kissed my forehead, and promised to tell me everything.
I was ready.
For the first time in my life, I wanted the truth—even if it wrecked me.
Because there are worse things than loving a dangerous man.
Like never loving at all.