He’s gazing somewhere far away as his eyes penetrate through the wall as if it has wronged him. His sharp features constrict as his jaw clenches tight, a vein in his forehead feathering.
I’ve never seen such a vacant yet agony-filled look in his eyes. My heart hammers in my chest for an entirely different reason now. I’m scared to utter the wrong words that would make him pull away from me.
I don’t know if he’s hurting or if he’s angry or maybe even both. Taking a deep breath when it looks like he’s not coming back from where he’s transported anytime soon, I call out his name softly, “Noah.”
I press my hand to his bearded cheek—the stubble tickling my palm—hoping to let him sense my presence wherever he’s trapped and bring him back. I whisper his name once more, and that has him rapidly blinking his eyes, coming to it.
I heave a relieved sigh, glad that I haven’t lost him yet.
He shakes his head, his air-dried rogue strands falling over his forehead as he clears his throat. “Yeah…Mhmm…Sorry.”
Why is he apologizing?
Carefully placing me on the edge of the bed, he saunters over to his wardrobe. Very much aware of how naked I am from waist down, I toy with my hair, my legs pressed shut. Seconds later, he stands in front of me, a towel now back around his trimmed waist. I crane my neck to look up at him, and he extends the clothes in his hands.
“Go freshen up,” he suggests, jerking his head toward his bathroom. “I’ll go and shower in the guest bathroom,” he informs me as I grab the clothes from him.
I nod at him, and without a word, we both move in the direction of our destinations. All my thoughts in the shower are consumed with everything that transpired from the moment I showed up unannounced at his door. Honestly, I’m not even sure how to react in front of him anymore.
I don’t want things to be awkward. Not when his heated gaze builds my broken confidence piece by piece, even if he’s only helping me out. Even if whatever we’re doing is because he pities me.
Done with the shower, I slide myself into his clothes and wipe the fogged mirror to look at myself. The reflection staring back at me glows,eyes lighter even though they cried their heart out.
I’m by no means small, regardless of my 5’3” stature, yet Noah’s grey t-shirt swallows me whole, drowning me in the fabric that smells like him. Makes me look like someone who’s adored by her possessive lover.
Noah is none of those things. But I’ll be lying if I say that I don’t like the way I look in his clothes, or the drag I take of his scent, pressing the collar to my nose.
God! His scent is invading my senses, and I love it.
A knock on the door startles me. “You done in there, Andie?” Comes Noah’s voice, muffled by the wood between us.
Heat floods my body at the prospect of seeing him in his clothes. “Be out in a second!” I say, hurrying and putting on the pair of shorts he gave me. With a deep breath, I brace myself and walk out.
Unfortunately, I found Noah fully clothed this time as he swipes through his phone. My movements alert him to my presence, and he gazes up from the screen. The second he locates me, heat flares in his eyes as his eyes roam my body from my head to my toes.
Tension cackles in the air as I slowly close the distance between us. “You hungry?” he rasps, his voice scratchier than before.
“I could eat,” I nod, shrugging, not entirely sure what he plans to do.
He pockets his phone, grabs his cap from the nightstand, and strides out of the room. Confused, I jog to catch up to him. “Good. We’re gonna grab a bite,” he throws over his shoulder so nonchalantly that I literally finger my ear, wondering if I heard him wrong.
My steps cease in the living room, unable to process what he said. He wants to go out and eat with me? Is he not sending me home? Is he not done with me after I bawled in his arms like a baby and covered him in my tears and snot?
When he doesn’t find me following him, he pads back into the living room and jerks his head to the door. “Well, come on.” Before I can get a word in, he continues, “No, wait right here.”
My brows furrow because I have no darn idea what this man wants. Seconds later, he appears with his hoodie in his hand. “Wear this,” he says, extending it to me.
“Why?” I tilt my head, trying to understand.
“You’re not going out without your bra, Andie,”he growls, his words sending a shiver down the length of my body.
My brows rise. “Oh, I can wear mine. It must be in your bedroom.” My cheeks heat the moment the words are out of my mouth, because of how intimate that sounds.
“No, wear this,” he demands, not letting me pass.
Unable to deny him with the way his words please me, I grab it and put my arms through it.
His eyes shine with primal satisfaction, and with a nod, he again goes to leave, and this time, I follow him out.