Chapter 6
Chiara
The night air hits my face the second we step outside the party, cool and sharp after the noise and heat of the crowded room.
For a moment, we just stand there.
The music thumps faintly through the walls behind us, laughter spilling out every time the door opens, but out here everything feels quieter. Slower.
More real.
My heart is still racing.
Partly from what just happened inside.
Partly because Noah Walker is standing right beside me, looking like he might tear the world apart if it means getting closer to me.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks, softer this time.
I nod because I am sure.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
And I am.
Mostly.
There’s a million reasons why leaving this party with Noah Walker is a bad idea.
Number one, he is so out of my league.
Number two, I work with him.
Number three—crap, what was number three?
Right now, my wrist tingles a little where that awful man grabbed me, and all I can think about is how Noah stepped in.
He’s still cradling it in his big hands, stroking his thumb along the inside of my wrist.
And yeah, I squirm because holy hell, he is making me so damn hot right now.
Noah must notice because his jaw tightens.
“Are-are we gonna go?” I ask uncertainty rising.
I mean, hell, I already asked the man to leave with me.
So, there’s no putting that particular cat back in the bag. But for some reason, he seems frozen.
“You positive?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I say, meeting his eyes. “I-I think maybe the tension between you and me needs to be addressed. Maybe we can go somewhere and just work this out of our systems. Then you won’t need to play knight in shining armor anymore.”
A crooked smile tugs at his mouth.
“Wasn’t about being a hero.”
“No? Then why did you get all Hulk smash on that guy?”
“That was about someone touching what’s mine.”
My stomach flips.
“That sounds dangerously territorial.”
His blue eyes darken.
“Maybe.”
I swallow and glance down the quiet street, suddenly very aware that we’re alone.
“Well,” I say lightly, trying to steady my nerves, “I suppose I should thank you.”
“You could.”
“Maybe I should just go home,” I whisper as he leans down and sniffs my neck,
He moves back like that didn’t just happen and snorts.
“You don’t actually want that.”
I raise a brow.
“You seem very confident about that.”
“I am,” he says simply.
I shake my head, half amused, half exasperated.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’ve been thinking about me for weeks.”
My cheeks burn.
“Ha! Conceited much?”
“Nah, just realistic. I’ve been thinking about you since the first time I saw you.”
We start walking slowly along the sidewalk, neither of us really heading anywhere in particular.
The stadium lights glow behind us.
“Look, first, you don’t have to say that to me,” I say finally, exhaling slowly. “Maybe we should just say it out loud.”
“We’ll get back to that thing you said about not having to say things to you, but first, we should just say what out loud?”
“That we both know what all this tension is about.”
He stops walking.
Turns toward me.
His voice drops lower.
“You mean sex?” he asks, and his grin is even more wicked.
I laugh nervously.
“Well, yes.”
“So, there’s no point pretending this means anything else.”
“No point,” he agrees.
I cross my arms, suddenly feeling both bold and terrified.
“We’re adults.”
“Last I checked.”
“So we should be able to talk about it.”
His eyes flicker with amusement.
“Go on then, Chiara. Talk about sex.”
I take a breath.
“Maybe we should. I mean, I might be interested in one night.”
His expression goes still.
Carefully neutral.
“One night,” he repeats.
“Well, yeah,” I say quickly. “I’m not looking for promises. I want to be realistic. Plus, I have my job, my life here, and I’m not going to complicate it. One night is doable.”
His jaw tightens.
“You keep saying one night,” he snaps.
“Because that’s all this is.”
“How do you know?” he asks.
“Because it has to be.”
Silence stretches between us and I look around to see we’re standing by the big yellow Bronco I know is his.
“It’s all I can offer you, Noah,” I say softly. “If you don’t want that, that’s fine. I can always—”
“If you say find another guy or use one of those goddamned dating apps,” he growls, voice rough with frustration, “I swear to God I’ll lose my fucking mind, Chiara.”
I blink at him.
“I’ll take what you’re offering,” he continues, stepping closer.
His voice drops, raw and honest.
“Because I want you more than air.”
The words hit me like a shockwave.
And before I can think—before I can retreat—Noah Walker, hooker for the Carolina Rovers, pulls me against him.
Our mouths collide, and it is—cataclysmic.
The kiss is positively electric.
Hot.
Hungry.
Everything I’ve been pretending not to feel for months.
His hands slide to my waist, gripping just tight enough to make my pulse explode.
And for a few breathless seconds, I kiss him back.
Really kiss him.
Not the careful, polite kind of kiss you give someone you’re unsure about. Not the quick peck you can pretend didn’t happen.
This one is deep. Hungry. Reckless.
Like the dam I’ve been holding up for months just cracked wide open.
“If you want to back out, love, here’s your chance,” Noah growls against my mouth.
We’re both breathing hard now. The night air suddenly feels warmer, thicker somehow.
He drops a soft kiss to my temple, and then his forehead rests against mine.
And holy crap.
That tiny, gentle gesture?
It might actually be my downfall.
Because Noah Walker—big, sexy, intimidating rugby player Noah Walker—looks almost vulnerable right now.
Like he’s waiting for me to decide.
Giving me the choice.
My heart pounds.
All the reasons I told myself this was a bad idea rush through my mind.
Work boundaries.
Professionalism.
The whole don’t shit where you eat speech my father drilled into me growing up.
But then another voice pushes through.
A louder one.
The voice that’s been whispering what if every time Noah walks into a room or onto the field.
YOLO, right?
Maybe if I give in—just once—we’ll get this out of our systems.
Maybe then I’ll finally be able to think straight again.
“I don’t want to back out,” I whisper.
His blue eyes lock on mine.
Intense. Searching.
Like he’s making sure I really mean it.
Then suddenly he moves.
The world spins.
Next thing I know we’re in his car and pulling away from the stadium.
I stare out the window, trying to breathe normally, but my heart is racing like I just sprinted the length of the field.
“Um… w-where are we going?” I ask.
“I have a house,” he says simply.
Right.
Of course he does.
I fiddle nervously with the hem of my skirt, watching the streetlights blur past the window.
Because this is happening.
Sexy, ridiculously hot rugby star Noah Walker is driving me to his house.
His house.
My stomach flips.
Then his hand settles on my thigh.
Big. Warm.
Heavy in the most distracting way possible.
When his fingers squeeze gently, I nearly moan out loud.
“Easy, love,” he murmurs, glancing at me with a small smile. “I got you.”
Christ.
I hope so.
His house turns out to be incredible—modern and spacious with huge windows and a wraparound porch—but honestly?
I barely notice any of it.
Because Noah barely puts the car in park before he’s already out of the driver’s seat.
He rounds the front of the car and opens my door like he’s been waiting his entire life to do exactly this.
Then he spins me to face him.
One hand curls around the back of my neck, firm but careful, and suddenly his mouth is on mine again.
Hot.
Possessive.
And I actually squeak when his other arm wraps around my waist and he lifts me clean off the seat.
“Hey!” I gasp between kisses. “You can’t carry me! I’m too big!”
The words fly out before I can stop them.
And the effect is immediate.
His hand leaves my neck and lands squarely on my butt.
SMACK!
It’s not hard enough to hurt.
But definitely hard enough to make me yelp—and make every nerve ending in my body spark to life.
“No more talk like that, Love,” he rumbles.
His voice is low and rough, and suddenly my entire body feels warm.
“You’re mine for the night, right?”
I nod automatically, breath catching.
“Well then,” he says, tightening his hold on me as he starts walking toward the house.
“That means you do what I say.”
His mouth brushes mine again, teasing.
“And I say… hold on.”
And, oh my God.
I wrap my arms around his neck.
Because if this is really happening?
I am absolutely not missing a second of it.