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There she is. The spitfire I know she can be. But I also know she can be sweet, shy, and isn’t one for fights.
The one and only time her brother and I got jumped, she’d been there to witness it, and yeah, in the end, we’d gotten the best of the assholes, but she’d been screaming at the top of her lungs for them to stop. She was crying and pleading for them to leave us alone. In the end, it was pointless, we’d shown them we were not to be fucked with.
Reaching for her, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her until she’s flush against my front. “Because I like havin’ you close,” I utter and tilt my head just enough to brush my lips against hers.
“Cyprus,” she whispers my name and my dick jumps at the way she does it. “You need to stop this.”
“Stop what?” I ask, our breaths mingling together.
“This.” Noelle tries to push away, but I don’t let her.
“Noelle, get this and let it sink in. I’m not going to stop this. I told you I claimed you. Means you’re mine. Fuck, you’ve been mine since you were no more than a kid. Even before Noah warned me off.”
That admission causes her to stop pushing against me and look directly in my eyes.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me.”
There’s no way I’m repeating myself on this, and she knows it.
“You mean to say . . .”
“Yeah, baby, I didn’t just help Noah drive the boys away for nothing.” I smirk.
Noelle stares at me for a long pause, and I can see the wheels spinning in that head of hers. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
“You know what?” she finally speaks again, tears forming in her eyes, but they don’t spill over.
“What’s that?”
“You are a jerk. A big fat jerk.”
“No, baby, I’m an asshole.” I use the name I know she really wants to use.
“Yes, you’re that too.” Shoving away from me, I let her go this time, sensing she’s going to lose her shit soon, and I have a feeling sparks are about to fly.
“Want to explain why you think I’m an asshole.”
“I don’t have to explain. You already know. I mean, you can’t exactly hide it. You go from hating me to . . . to . . . God, I don’t even know what to call what you’re doing right now. But it’s not funny. You’re missing with my head.” She lifts her arms and rakes her fingers through her thick dark waves of lush hair, and my hands are itching to sink into it. “You need to stop. Stop messing with me. Stop with the pity and charity. I don’t need . . .”
I don’t let her finish that sentence. I yank her back to me and get in her face. “You think I pity you? That what I’m doing is charity?”
“What else could it be?” She scoffs.
“It’s called me taking care of you. Giving you what you deserve. Showing you how you should have been treated to all along,” I snap, claiming her lips with a demanding frustrated kiss while holding her close enough to feel what she does to me. Breaking away, I sear her with a glare. “You think I could have that if I pitied you? Thought you were nothing but a charity case? No, baby, you’d be wrong. So fuckin’ wrong.”
I let her go and turn my attention to the steaks. I flip them and finish cooking them while Noelle stands there, wordless.
As I take the steaks off the grill, I look at Noelle and use my free hand to cup the side of her face. “We’ll finish this conversation after dinner, and Bride is in bed.”
Noelle pulls her lip between her teeth and nods in response. Her eyes never leaving mine.
“Can I come out here now?” Bride asks, standing in the doorway.
“We’re just coming back in, Punk. What’s wrong?”
“I was just coming to tell you someone was knocking at the front door,” Bride answers, and I take in the funny look on her face.
