Cole
Noelle thought her cat eating a pedophile’s heart would get her out of finishing the movie, but I am nothing if not persistent. So when she tried to suggest it might be time for bed, I hoisted her over my shoulder fireman style and planted her fine ass back on the couch, nestling in beside her this time with an arm around her shoulders.
The stiffness in her posture eases into gentle cuddling the longer I make her endure human contact and watch the movie she claimed she would despise. She’s made more mock gagging sounds through the duration of this movie than she has laughed, so I’m making it my mission to get a real laugh out of her before the end credits role.
And not a moment too soon, Hugh Grant’s iconic dance scene begins to play. Startling her with the sudden movement, I leap out of my seat to perform the dance moves in sync with the Prime Minister’s awkwardly adorable moves on screen.
Except I’m completely naked as I perform this routine.
“You have too much free time on your hands if you know this dance by heart,” Noelle teases. But I see the ghost of a smile forming, the twinkle in her eyes that says my adorable vulnerability is wearing herdown.
I just shrug my shoulders, choosing the blissful art of not giving a fuck instead of being scorned by her defense mechanism.
And it’s a good thing I do, because my determination leads to success when Hugh Grant’s moment of frivolity comes to an embarrassing end but I continue to dance to music that isn’t playing. Thrusting my hips in her direction makes me acutely aware of my lack of underwear as things…movein time with the music.
But it’s all worth it when a bright smile of uninhibited joy spreads across Noelle’s face, lighting her eyes with a glow that illuminates my world.
Something about seeing her so happy, just letting herself enjoy this moment, is more rewarding than I could have imagined. I barely know Noelle, but I want to. The glimpse I’ve seen tonight has been almost as fulfilling as killing evil people.
I have a feeling it’s not just the holiday season that dampens her spirit, Noelle wears the armor of a woman who has never had anyone to rely on, who has endured cruelty at the hands of another, and she never wants to relive that again. Looking past the pessimism and sarcastic comments, I see a young woman who needs validation and acceptance.
A woman who needs love.
“I think your clothes should be dry, now,” she brings us back to reality. “I’m sure you don’t want to spend the rest of the night with your dick hanging out.”
“No, I’d rather spend the rest of the night with my dick inside you.”
The look in her eyes is priceless, it’s somewhere between shock, hesitation, and desire. She would like that just as much as I would, but she doesn’twantto want it.
And I think I know why.
That part of me that Noelle brings out takes over, the darker, depraved side that I know she craves as much as fears. My shade of morally grayis a nice compliment to her own.
In this moment, the predator in me comes out to play. I prowl toward her with calculated steps that increase the tension sizzling between us. Each step that brings me closer to her builds the weight of her breaths. As much as I’d love to watch her chest rise and fall with each inhale/exhale, I keep my eyes fixed on hers, admiring the way her hair frames her face to make her features more pronounced.
Bracing my hands on the back of the couch on either side of her head, I lean down toward Noelle so we share the same breath. “Do you really want me to put my clothes back on?”
Her addled mind fumbles with the answer her body wants her to give as opposed to her rational mind, the part of herself that believes everything about tonight is wrong.
“N-no,” she admits in a whisper that sends a chill of need down my spine.
The urge to bite that lush bottom lip overtakes me again. Slowly, painfully slowly, I dip my head down until our mouths are a hair’s-breadth apart before I say, “My turn to ask a question.”
The fury that flickers across her face shouldn’t make me hard but it does, I like seeing her on edge.
Rising to my full height, I walk across the apartment to the stacked laundry machines to pull my clothes out of the drier, but all I put on is my boxers. I have no intention of getting fully dressed until morning, but this conversation doesn’t need Cole junior alert and present.
“Fine,” she huffs with disappointment and irritation. I think she’s quite enjoyed our little game, but she wants to know what I feel like inside of her more than she wants to play. “What do you want to know?”
“Why haven’t you asked why I killed your ex-boyfriend?”
Chapter Eleven
Cole
Crossing my arms over my chest is more out of habit than anything, but I do want to impress upon her that I won’t touch her again unless she wants me to. At the end of the day, I’m still a killer, one with ties to her past.
She knows it, but she didn’t know I knew it until this moment.
