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CHAPTER 15
Noemi
Life used to make sense. At least, she and her dad picked up the pieces after her mom died. They’d become a family unit, just the two of them, surviving and moving on because they had to. Her dad had the business. She had school, her volunteer work, and him.
It wasn’t exactly simple, but she did know what to pretty much expect from every day. Twenty-four hours never used to be a big deal. It was just a span of time.
Now it was so much more than that.
In less than twenty-four hours, she’d lost herself completely. She had no idea what she was doing.
Driving. That’s what she was doing. Driving too fast. Not paying attention. She needed to pull over before she ran someone off the road.
Her hands were shaking, and a cold sweat coated her skin as she steered the rental over to the side of a residential street. The houses were all cute and quaint. They totally screamed resort town, with nice manicured lawns and pretty flower beds. The only thing they were missing was the white picket fence. They were so different from what was in New York, expensive, cramped living quarters. Most of her friends had to have at least three to four roommates just to afford basic rent. She knew she was lucky that her dad had money. They’d come over after her mom passed and bought a new three-bedroom construction. She’d always had enough space.
There was just noise and people and things going on everywhere in New York. She didn’t realize how much she missed the peace and quiet before.
She took a shuddering breath. Had she really just sworn at and flipped off the same man who’d given her more orgasms than she’d ever had in her life? Yes, that would be in one night than she’d probably had ever. Period. Total.
She never swore. She never cursed. Not really even in her mind. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d flipped someone the bird.
Noemi’s chest shuddered in and out with her shaky breath. She blinked hard, perilously close to tears that she didn’t want to give in to. Crying just made it all that much more real. Byron stood there like what he’d done wasn’t even a big deal. He’d taken it all in stride. He had the nerve to grin at her, cross his arms so that his muscles did all that crazy bunching and flexing that he probably knew looked good.
Of course, she’d noticed.
She couldn’t not notice.
What was wrong with her that she noticed?
He’d stood there making fun of her while she tried to rip him a new asshole. Not that there was anything wrong with the one he’d had. It was a very nice asshole…
Jesus. She should not be thinking about any of Byron’s anatomy. Byron. Not Cason.
Her hands were still shaking, her breaths violent and uncontrolled, her pulse ripping so hard at the side of her throat that it actually made it difficult to swallow, when a sharp knock rattled off the driver’s side window.
She gasped and nearly jumped out through the windshield. Thankfully, she still had her seatbelt on. She whipped her head around and found Byron staring back at her.
God. Of course, he was there. He’d followed her. He just couldn’t let her go. He’d chased her from New York. Literally, since she’d left because she was fleeing him. He’d followed her halfway across the country. Of course, he wasn’t going to let her just wander off and lose all hope of selling his stupid shoes across the pond. That’s what this was all about. Fucking. Shoes.
Without thinking, she raised her middle finger again. “This means fuck off, not fuck you,” she clarified in a near scream, just to be sure he could hear her.
Byron blinked. He was still wearing those damn faded jeans that cupped his ass, his leg muscles, his evil, seductive crotch area. And no, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His muscles gleamed in the sunlight, bronze, luscious, tempting, good enough to lick.
Oh yes, she’d licked him plenty. She knew exactly what that bronzed, smooth skin tasted like. She knew how he tasted just about everywhere. She knew the sounds he made when he came, what it felt like to have him, hard and velvet, burning hot and wicked as a brand and throbbing, hard as steel inside of her.
They fit.
They fit in a way she didn’t even know was possible. In a way she’d never fit with anyone.
She nearly slammed the car into drive and peeled out of the spot, but she didn’t want to risk running Byron over. She wanted to get away from him, not be tied up in court in some ridiculous lawsuit because she somehow maimed him. It pissed her off that she couldn’t even be evil when she wanted to be.
