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Which sucks for me really, because Noah made it clear he’s comfortable with me only if I’m at a distance. It had been three days and two nights away from him, but almost every hour on the hour I was remembering the anger… almost hate on his face when he left me to stand in front of Ryan. I don’t know what he expected I would do to Ryan, or at all really. What I did know was it hurt and every time I thought about it that hurt came back.
I pulled into my driveway and when I see Noah’s truck, my heart immediately begins beating faster. I’d like to think that reaction is out of anger and maybe a little fear, because I don’t want to face him yet. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t take the time to decipher my emotions, however. I need to hurry and get out of my vehicle and get inside. I don’t think Noah will come after me, he has Ryan and he won’t leave him alone to come to my house—which means safety comes only when I get inside. Then again, I may be just acting stupid. It’s doubtful I mean enough to Noah for him to even come over.
For some reason that thought makes me sad.
I leave my crap in my car. I can get it out tomorrow, while Noah is taking Ryan to school. I make it to the front door and I’m so nervous, I drop my key. I pick it up, but before I get the chance to put it in and turn it, a large hand reaches out and caps overtop of mine, taking over control of the key. I jump, but I don’t scream—only because I can smell Noah’s aftershave, and I know the press of his body against mine. I can feel his scruffy beard against my shoulder as his head comes down and he whispers in my ear.
“About time you got back, Gorgeous,” he murmurs, his voice is coarse and it sends vibrations through my body that unfortunately seem to stop between my legs.
“You need to leave,” I tell him, my voice tight.
He ignores me, turns the key and then opens the door. I try to remain glued to the doorstep, but he doesn’t allow that either. He gives me a gentle push, his hand firm on my back and with that and the pressure of his body so close to mine, I stumble inside.
I immediately make space between us and turn to face him. That was probably a mistake for several reasons—the first being that he looks really good in faded jeans and a worn black t-shirt with the words Silver Bullet Band emblazoned across it.
Damn him.
“You need to leave, Noah,” I tell him again, doing my best to make my voice stern, despite the pleasure that is moving through me just from seeing him again.
“Missed you, Gorgeous,” he says and I don’t know how it’s possible that words can sound so sweet and yet kill you at the same time.
“You need to go,” I tell him again, calmly. “Ryan needs you,” I add, trying to remind him that he has a son he can’t leave alone.
“Ryan’s at an afterschool dance. He’ll be there for another hour,” he answers and that look in his eye sends my panic skyrocketing.
“I don’t want you here, Noah. We’re done, now.”
“We’re not done, Rory,” he argues, his voice quiet and those brown eyes heated. “We’re going to have this out and then I’m going to show you how much I missed you the last two days.”
“No. I don’t want to work anything out. It just needs to be done.”
“Two days, Rory. You were gone two days.”
“I needed time to think,” I tell him.
The entire time we’re talking he’s advancing and I’m retreating. For every step he makes, I take two back. Noah’s always been intense, but that has definitely amplified.
“Hope you thought it out, so we can work this out quickly,” he says.
I frown.
“There’s nothing to work out.”
“Glad you feel that way, Baby.”
“There’s nothing to work out, because I’ve decided we’re over,” I clarify, because I don’t think he’s getting it.
“We’re not over, Rory,” he growls his voice intense before, but now it feels like it burns me.
“Noah—”
“Missed the fucking hell out of you, Rory” he growls and those words, that tone, and his eyes all combine to make my body shudder and not in fear. I can even feel myself getting wet for him.
That definitely makes me panic.
“Noah! You need to go!” I yell—letting the panic have full reign.
Noah ignores me and his steps increase until I’ve retreated so far that I’m pressed against the wall, then Noah is pressed to my front. His hand comes out to hold my neck, his thumb sweeping up against my cheek and pressing in firmly. It’s not painful, but his eyes are so heated they’re burning me and my hand goes up to wrap around his wrist in defense.
