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“Deep breaths, baby. I told you I’ve got you. It’ll pass, just breathe,” he says and I just want to sit in his lap. Let him pet me and tell me it will all be okay.
Minutes or seconds pass before I sit up, feeling a lot more in control of myself. The way he looks at me fills that gaping hole in my heart of being wanted, like we don’t need words to say what we feel. These little moments where he has brought peace to my busy mind has me questioning everything about him. The warmth that blooms in my chest at his protective nature has me wanting to scream that I’ve found someone who actually wants me. But then I make a mental list of all the fucked up shit he has done and I’m back to square one. Does he just crave the chase? Am I the prize, only to eventually be cast aside? The mental gymnastics is exhausting. Being around Noah is like walking into a maze. At first I have an idea where I’m going, then make a wrong turn and get lost which is when the panic sets in.
“You’re screwing with my head, Noah. How can you read me so well and make it better? You don’t give a shit about me or anyone else.”
“Oh I definitely give a shit about you, Chase. I’ve memorized so much about you, that I know what you need. I look after and protect what’s mine. And that’s you. Don’t ever fucking doubt it again,” he says as he reaches out and massages the back of my head with his large sexy hand. My eyes roll back at how good hishands feel on me. They’re like magic to my soul. As I open my eyes to look at him, I see he has torn the muffin into pieces. It's like deja vu when he lifts a piece to my mouth.
“Open up, baby,” he says gruffly like he’s smoked a full packet of cigarettes. I open for him and let his fingers slide into my mouth, I gently suck on them, making him growl, his face full of desire. As he removes his fingers, he grabs me harder behind the neck and kisses me. Full-on, dirty porno kissing. The taste of blueberry and tobacco from his tongue explodes into my mouth, and fucking hell is it an amazing combination.
“Do you mind? None of us want to see that shit,” is shouted at us by a middle-aged pudgy guy, sitting two tables away. The coffee shop seems to stop in time as the display grabs their attention. I’ve had comments like this before, but normally in passing. Yes, the kiss by any couple was not appropriate in a public place, but we aren’t hurting anyone.
“The fuck you say?” Noah says and goes to stand to walk over to the homophobic asshole.
“Isaid, no one wants to see that queer shit. You’ve ruined my coffee you sick bastards,” he shouts and gets up to move towards Noah. This guy is confident as hell approaching a beast like Noah, the height difference itself is comical.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Bobby. This is a coffee shop, not a bar and we don’t tolerate any discrimination,” the barista says. This Bobby looks like his head may explode from the hatred that's now fully aimed at the young girl.
“I’ve a right to have my coffee in peace, not a full porno fag show,” he grumbles, moving closer to her to try and intimidate her.
Before I know it, Noah has moved over to Bobby, grabbing him by the collar and punching him in the face. Bobby falls to the ground, hitting the table on his way, causing the coffee cup to smash on the floor and a scream from a fellow patron.
“Stop, Noah, leave it,” I say as I grab his arm before he gets another hit in.
Bobby has blood coming out of his nose and he struggles to sit up. “I’m gonna put your queer ass in jail, shithead,” he threatens.
“No you won’t. Nobody here saw him hit you, all we saw is your homophobic ass spilling hate. Now get out,” the barista orders and Bobby manages to stand and waddle out of the door.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to the young girl. She smiles and pats my forearm.
“Don’t apologize. Now enjoy your coffee,” she says and walks off.
I turn to look at Noah, who is still watching the door.
“You okay, Noah?” I ask, and he looks at me with a vacant stare. The desire and playfulness has been replaced with a harder look. Evil is the only word I can think of to describe it and it sends chills through me.
“I’ll come by later tonight, Chase. Don’t fight me on this,” he warns, and this time I listen and just nod. His large hands cup my face in a tight hold as he kisses me deep and hard. Just like the past few minutes didn’t happen. Then in true Noah fashion, he walks away, leaving me cold in his wake.
CHAPTER 25
NOAH
That fucker ruined a perfectly good lunch with my Chase. As soon as I’d heard his words and saw the slight wince on Chase’s face, a switch flipped in my brain. No fucker talks to me or Chase in that way and this guy is about to find out. I follow him down the street. It's not hard to catch up with him. If my guess is right, I bet he’s going to the hospital. I’m pretty sure I felt his nose break when I punched the fucker.
As I walk behind him, keeping my distance of course, he turns right at the end of the street, moving towards the parking lot on the corner. It's a much quieter part of town. I quickly scan the area and note that there aren’t a lot of cars here. I see no CCTV cameras or security guards. It's quite run down on this side of town. He moves to a rusty old pick up truck, and I overhear him talking to himself while searching for his keys in his pocket. I take the opportunity to slam him face first into the car door and quickly grab him in a headlock, which stops him from screaming.
“Let's take a drive,” I say before I put pressure on the side of his neck hard enough to cut off the blood supply to his brain. Then it’s lights out for the big guy. He’s a heavy fucker, but Imanage to swiftly maneuver him into the backseat of his truck, retrieving his keys from his pants and heading to a location that I’ve not used for a while.
My phone buzzes en route with a message from my mother, claiming she needs to talk to me again. I’d forgotten about that whole fanfare while I’ve been focused on Chase. That guy has literally taken up every inch of space in my head. My family is a loose end that needs tying up before I can bring Chase home with me. Huh. Would we be better living at my place or his? Mine is nicer and bigger, but I like his home. Gives me that sense of peace, like I’m cut off from the world. Thinking of a future with Chase has me borderline in a meditative state.
About an hour later, we arrive at a run down house that I’ve owned since I was eighteen years old. It's in the middle of nowhere, and was perfect for when I needed to get away from home. I’ve brought a couple of people here before, a few years back when I dealt with some business for my dad. They were people who needed disposing of. Now they’re mulch in the outbuilding. It's a perfect location.
Movement in the backseat has my foot pressing heavier on the gas to climb the long driveway so I can get him inside. I park around the back of the property that's covered in gravel and turn off the engine, jumping out to unlock the house before I drag him inside.
The smell of musty damp assaults me as I open the door, then I run back to the truck just as he starts to stir.
“Come on, big guy. Let's get you inside,” I say, and he groans as I let his body drop to the ground before hauling him up and dragging him by the neck into the house.
“Where the fuck am I?” he mutters, still slightly unbalanced as he becomes more alert.
