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The following day,I try to have a more logical outlook on relationships as I head off to work, at risk of being late. I have to let fate take me where I need to be and try to enjoy the journeyas much as possible, reminding myself that everything happens for a reason. That's what I’m trying to convince myself. I know I dodged a bullet with Wade, but it all still hurts. Screw him, I'm still young enough to find love, and Noah, while off limits, has sparked a desire in my gut that has lain dormant for years. My little pep talk doesn’t take away the sucky feeling of having to work today. I need a break from there, the days are becoming drawn out, draining me of any happiness. The pretending I’m okay with patients is exhausting.
As I get to the building, I stop in my tracks before opening the doors, hesitant to walk through. This is like being at the school gates as a child, my stomach churns with nausea at the very idea of going into work. My hands shake a little on the door handle as anxiety builds. I step back and turn around to face the street, trying to distract my mind from another mental meltdown of self-pity. The parking lot is filled with cars, visitors, and staff, busy making their way to wherever they're supposed to be, oblivious to me watching them and on the verge of crumbling into a heap on the floor. Wade has turned me into a mess, and I’d give anything to erase him from my head so I can go back to normal.
As I manage to hold myself together, a heat hits my neck and a crackling sensation in the air sends a shiver of caution down my spine with the feeling that someone is behind me. Watching me. Warily I turn back around, and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest in shock. Noah is standing so close and is just looking at me. How was he so quiet? How long has he been standing behind me? He possesses an air of dominance and strength that fills me with unease. He’s just standing there, watching me intently with an almost predatory smile. It's slightly creepy but weirdly sexy, too.
"Noah, you scared me," I say.
"Chase," he says in that deep, smoky voice while bringing a cigarette to his mouth.
I follow the action. I hadn't noticed how plump his lips were, how they grip the cigarette, and how he seductively removes his mouth from around the filter and blows the smoke off to the side. He knowingly grins, and I realize how fucking obvious I must be, just standing here looking at his mouth, wanting to lick the tobacco taste off his lips. I slightly stutter when I find the ability to talk.
"G-good morning. How are you feeling today after our first session?" I ask, trying to bring this back to a more professional interaction.
Saying nothing at first, he goes to walk by me.
"I think I’ll start to feel better very soon," he replies and strolls off without looking back, as stealth and elegant as a panther.
What was he doing here? I wonder before I jerk back, remembering that I’m running late, and take a look at my watch.Fuck. I dash off to my office while talking to myself, reassuring myself that today will be a good day, a Noah-free day.
As I get to my desk, it occurs to me that maybe he was here to make an appointment. Or cancel our next session? A hint of panic hits me at the thought of him canceling, so I log onto my computer and go through my calendar, quickly noting that his appointment for next week is still booked. Huh, he must have just been passing through. A waft of cigarette smoke hits my nose, and my mind goes back to that mouth. I wonder if he tastes of anything else besides tobacco? Would he taste sweet, or would it be all smoke and leather? Great, now I’m hard. So much for keeping it professional.
CHAPTER 6
NOAH
It's been a few days since I spooked Chase outside his workplace. What can I say? I like to play with my food. While he hasn't seen me since then, I’ve followed him daily, getting to know his little routines. I also stopped by his ex’s apartment to keep an eye on him. He had another guy with him, clearly trying to win back Chase, like he said. What a classic dick. Lucky for him, he's not with Chase anymore. I would've had to take care of that problem in a messier way, but as long as he stays away, he can keep breathing.
I look out of my car window at Chase's house. He’s still at work, so I’m using the opportunity to determine what makes my man tick. I casually walk over to the side gate of the house. The key to blending in is to always be relaxed, make yourself look like you belong, and know where you’re going. You never know who is watching or, in this case, any curtain twitchers, so I open the gate and am not surprised it’s unlocked. I approach the back door and remove my key from my pocket.
When I was behind Chase the other day at his work, I was there for another reason. I took his back door house key from his keychain in his pocket before he turned to notice me. At ourappointment, I’d seen the outline of the keychain when I was staring at his ass. From what I’ve observed, he rarely uses the back to go into the house, so I doubt he’s noticed it’s gone. But I have it covered. I had a copy made, and I’ll leave the original in a random spot in his kitchen, making it look like he had a moment of forgetfulness.
As I open the door and cross over the threshold, a tantalizing fragrance immediately hits me. I'm not sure what cologne he wears, but it’s unique. I'd know it anywhere. It has a soft hint of spice to it, which makes my groin stir. I place the key next to the coffeemaker on his kitchen counter and walk into his living room. Chase comes across as a friendly, homey guy, so it surprises me that he hardly has anything in this room apart from two brown leather sofas, a wooden coffee table, and a TV. There are a couple of pictures on the mantelpiece, one with some older guy who I assume must be family as they look similar, and one of him at his college graduation. I wonder if he has any family or close friends.
Moving to the other side of the living room, I head upstairs and turn to the right, where two doors are across from one another. The door facing the front of the property appears to be a spare room, which is dismal, with only a plain bed occupying it. Clearly, he doesn't have overnight guests much. I turn to the other door facing the back of the property, and just from his scent hitting my face as I open the door, I know this is his room. A zap of heightened anticipation pumps in my chest. What would his reaction be if I lay on his bed naked, waiting for him to return home? Would he scream? Would he be scared? Or would he completely submit to me? Truth be told, I’d be happy with all three of those reactions. Those pretty eyes would be so beautiful when filled with fear.
His bed is larger than I thought it would be, nearly taking up the entire room. I sit on the edge of the mattress, and damn,does it feel good. It feels like falling into clouds of softness. The duvet is a light blue with plain matching pillows. He has two bedside tables, both with lamps, and above his bed is a painting that makes my eyes widen. It's a painting of two very naked men kissing and groping each other's asses. It's so erotic and not at all what I expected. For a short time, I imagine us in that scenario, except I would bite and slap that ass, gripping it so hard it would leave bruises. My dick’s even harder than it was downstairs, if that's possible, making the thrill of having him under me all the more alluring.
My phone rings, and irritance flares in my chest. What the fuck does my dad want? I'm tempted not to answer, I don’t want to listen to whatever bullshit he has to spew. Why can't he just be himself, the monster I know he is? All of this father-like behavior is like watching an actor rehearse a script. It's fake and practiced. He and my mother are just walking shells with heartbeats. They’re a waste of the air that we breathe. And he wonders why I’m like I am.
"What?" I ask, accepting the call.
There’s a pause before his commanding voice demands. "Where are you? I’m at your apartment."
"I'm out."
"Don’t be fucking smart, you better get back here," he scolds.
"Nah, I'm good, thanks," I say.
"Listen to me, Noah…” he starts, and I hang up, bored with the conversation.
Gripping my phone hard in my hand, I’m annoyed that he took me away from enjoying my time in Chase’s space. Irritance turns to anger as I let myself get lost in how badly I want to hurt him. I want to burn the skin off his body, I want to remove every limb, I want to hear the fucker scream, want my face to be the last he sees.
I know what he’s up to. My dad is a master manipulator and is overconfident with it. He thinks he’s untouchable, thinking this push and pull with my grandfather's trust affects me. The stupid fucker never knew that I had received a large sum of money from my grandmother, his mother, before she passed. They didn’t have a relationship to speak of because she disapproved of his life and his wife, my mother, which is not a shock. My mother is a fucked up empty mess who is worse than I am. She looks the part of a wealthy and successful family member, but she was a ghost in our house. Never around or ignored everyone if she was. The total opposite of my grandmother, who made an effort even though it was wasted, but for some reason, she loved me. I didn’t even really care much for her, but she always looked out for me and never trusted her fucked up son. So, before she died, she gave me twenty million dollars that she had buried away for me and hidden from my grandfather. She knew Dad would try to control me with the fund he had set up with my grandfather. It was money from her family, which my dad knew nothing about. Not that he needed to. He was beyond filthy rich just from my grandfather’s old money and empire.
My grandmother knew how to play the deceptive wife and mother well. She and my grandfather weren’t close. They shared a house but not a life. The marriage was two families that united for name and money. But I digress. Money is not the end goal for me. I’m only doing this because of how eager my dad is to get his hands on that trust money. It's more fun to push him to levels of insanity before I destroy him.
Coming back from my trip down memory lane, I take in Chase's room and take in one final inhale of his lingering smell before I turn and leave to head home.
