CHAPTER SEVEN #2
“You’re fucking shivering, Parker.” Noah dragged his eyes off the road a few times and reached over, tugging the bottom of my top. “Get it off.”
“It’s fine. I’ll get in the shower when I get home.” I slapped at his hand.
“Take it off,” he growled.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” I tried to make light of it, but my teeth were chattering.
Gripping the steering wheel, he drew in a deep breath, as if seeking patience. But he didn’t tell me I was wrong. He never said he didn’t have a girlfriend waiting for him at home, and a pang of jealousy plowed through me.
“I’m sure they just rip their clothes off.” I glanced out the window, angry with myself because I could have had this man. Maybe for one night. Maybe it would have meant more, and...then all my success would be attributed to the relationship I was in with Noah.
My father had already stated that Captain Jenkins was an excellent commander who is known to support female GIs, so you’re lucky to be in his platoon.
As if that was why I’d been doing well.
“I work hard. Nothing is handed to me.”
Dad’s eyes had lifted from his book that night. “Newsflash, Quinn, the Army doesn’t treat both sexes the same. It just doesn’t happen.”
I’d seethed.
I could earn a Purple Heart, and he’d still tell me I got the girl version.
Noah slowed for a light while I shivered and wished things were different. His body turned. “There are no women, Quinn; you know that.”
I did.
I knew far more about Noah Jenkins than I pretended. I paid attention to what people said; I walked past his office building instead of taking other, faster routes. I parked near his SUV when I saw it.
I didn’t even admit these things to myself, but I did them and felt stupid for it.
We pulled up outside my house, and my mouth fell open as the realization that I hadn’t given him my address hit.
I turned and found him staring, waiting for me to say something.
But I didn’t; I just felt myself soften.
He had no girlfriend and knew where I lived.
A feeling unlike anything I’d felt before enveloped me.
Noah felt familiar, safe—and something far more important that I couldn’t acknowledge.
Mine.
“Stay there.” He got out, rounded the hood, and opened the passenger door. “Give me the keys; you’re shaking like a leaf.”
I hadn’t realized just how cold I’d gotten until I handed them to him, and the keys rattled loudly.
“God, I’m cold.” I climbed out, and we ran across the lawn.
Inside, Noah turned on the lights and heat while I dropped my bags and fumbled with my zipper.
“Here,” Noah rasped, unzipping it and tugging it off my arms. He dropped it on the floor and cupped my face. “Quinn, I need you to strip off and get in the shower.”
I froze in a different way.
Strip in front of this shirtless man I’d craved sexually for over two years and couldn’t sleep with? Oh no, that was a bad idea.
His eyes dipped, taking in my top which clung to my breasts. “Can you do that?”
He was right. I needed to get out of these wet clothes.
“Yes.” I nodded but didn’t move.
The corner of his lip quirked for a second before he nudged me down the hall to my bedroom. “Let’s go, gorgeous.”
Gorgeous.
I was so cold I wanted to slam myself against his nice warm muscles as he stood facing me on the tiled floor. But thankfully he turned and twisted the taps on.
My shivering ramped up and survival mode kicked in. I tugged at my wet top and pants, scrambling to get them off.
When Noah turned, I was in my bra and panties.
“Oh God, I’m so frigging freezing. Close your eyes.” I jogged on the spot.
“Not on your life. You’ve taken in every inch of me for the past thirty minutes, so fair’s fair.” He laughed, stepping to the side. “Get under the water.”
“It’s not the same. You’re a man.”
“Want me to take off my pants, Quinn?”
Yes.
That was hardly a threat; someone needed to tell him.
“No.” I stepped under the water in my panties and thong; then turned to face him. As his nostrils flared and eyes burned, I willed Noah to step under the water with me and do what we both knew we wanted.
We were both almost naked, after all.
All my reasons seemed to blur into ambiguity as I took in this huge, handsome man standing in my bathroom.
Take me.
Instead, I watched as he slowly swallowed, turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Damn it.
When I came out in a dressing gown and slippers twenty minutes later, I thought he might be gone. Instead, I found Noah leaning against my kitchen counter with familiar aromas floating in the air. I watched as he ate from one of my Tupperware containers.
“Viss is dwelicuss,” he said around a mouthful and chewed. “Where did you order this from?”
I stalked over and grabbed it out of his hand. “I didn’t order it; I made it.”
“You made this?” His eyes widened, and he snatched it back, grinning.
“Why is that so impossible to believe? Because I do a man’s job, I can’t cook?” I frowned at him.
He took another mouthful, then handed me the container and fork. Without thinking, I shoveled a big mouthful of the spaghetti bolognese into my mouth.
“I didn’t say that. And the Army has been unisex for years. You need to ignore the few idiots that have an issue with it.”
Like my father, the Colonel?
I didn’t say that, though.
“What I’m shocked about is how good this is.” Noah took another mouthful.
Swallowing and forcing back a smile was really hard. I shouldn’t have been so happy that he loved my cooking, but I was.
“Thanks.” Noticing Noah was now wearing a black sweatshirt, I realized I was not being a good hostess. “Did you want a shower?”
Handing him the spaghetti, which we seemed to be sharing, he took another mouthful and placed it on the counter. “I shouldn’t.”
“I don’t mind. I can throw your pants in the dryer.” I shrugged because the truth was I liked having him in my home.
Very much.
“Guess I could. Why don’t you finish the rest and curl up on the sofa? I’ll go warm up, then make sure you haven’t gone into some hypothermic coma when I’m done.” He tucked a strand of wet hair behind my ear as we both ignored the very obvious lie in his words.
It was spring.
Sure, it was cold, but now that I was out of my wet clothes, I was about as far from a hypothermic coma as I was from suddenly not finding my commander attractive ever again.
Miles.
Many, many miles.
Watching Noah walk down my hall, his wide shoulders filling the space, I wondered what it would be like to be in love with him. To be loved by him. To share a home and bed with him.
Nice.
I knew it would be.
Shaking my head, I finished the last of the spaghetti, rinsed the container and curled up on the sofa while the shower was running. A few minutes later, I felt myself dozing. The last thing I recall was a weight shift around me and being surrounded by his familiar scent and delicious heat.
Which I think I snuggled into.
The next morning, I woke up in my bed, wearing only the little cotton nightie I wore under my dressing gown and no panties.
I swear I stared at the ceiling for about thirty minutes, imagining a dozen scenarios, and I’m still not sure which one I wished had happened.
I never asked what he did, and Noah never volunteered the information.
Watching him now, across the table, I know we’re both remembering the same things.
“Beautiful, clear night out tonight,” he says, sipping his water. “Full moon.”
“I saw it when I was out there,” Marlene replies. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Not a lick of rain all week.” Noah holds my gaze. “Unfortunately.”
Oh, dear God.
As Marlene starts talking about rainfall levels and how the gardens need it right now, my body temperature rises dangerously.
Why do I feel like his prey?