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“Hey. Thanks for believing me, Ash.And believe mewhen I say, I want you.”
How does he do that? He calms me. It’s like he sees my insecurities and takes them on as his own.
“Can I be honest with you?” he asks.
“Yeah, please do,” I answer.
He looks just as good as he did an hour ago. His hair is a little wild, mussed as if he ran his fingers through his dark strands a hundred times since we said goodbye. In his dark brown eyes is a spark, and it feels like he’s staring right through me.
“I like you. I meet men, take them home, and fuck them. Then I’m done. No going back for seconds. But with you, I look forward to seconds, thirds, fourths, fifths, and so on and so forth.”
His words send shivers down my spine, and every time Noah’s gaze meets mine, my pulse quickens. My heart wants him as much as my body does. “No one has ever been this honest with me,” I admit.
“You’ve met no one like me before, Ash.” His simple reply is delivered teasingly, but his words are sensual, as his tone raises an octave or two.
And that’s the fucking truth.I’ve not met anyone like him, ever.
“Anyway,” he continues. “I was going to come back and work on this sculpting project, but I’d rather talk with you.”
In the backdrop, I’m privy to Noah’s apartment, but the lights from the city are what my eyes focus on. “Are you at your home, or in a warehouse?”
His velvety laugh hits different than any other man ever has. He’s like my home away from home. How can I feel this way before I get to know him? There’s a connection that goes beyond attraction, but it doesn’t make me want him any less.
“I guess it’s both. It’s a cliché, really. An artist living in an old warehouse, reinvented as loft apartments.”
He sweeps his phone three hundred and sixty degrees. The entire place is open. “This is my bedroom.” He stands, doing another three-sixty of his apartment. He’s pointing to a set of steps. “I guess you wouldn’t classify it as a room, but it’s where I sleep.” He has a bed on a raised floor, four or five steps above another part of his loft. He walks down the stairs to an open kitchen and small living room, furnished lavishly with plush leather couches facing one another. “This is where I sketch and normally get projects started.”
He moves to his kitchen, where open countertops separate the living room from another space. He walks further, toward the windows. “This is my TV room.” Behind him are two huge leather recliners and a pool table. “If I didn’t have this, my brother would never visit me.”
I’m getting to know him a little bit better through this tour. He takes a different set of steps back to his bedroom level, which lead to another raised floor, closest to the windows. “This is my art studio.” The pride in his voice is obvious. He’s proud of his work, and he should be. He’s amazing.
“The tour doesn’t do my place justice. I love it. I bought it when I became a featured artist at Kate’s studio.”
He doesn’t elaborate on his success but brings the camera back to his handsome face. “Okay, so tell me more about you. What’s your age?”
Getting to know him some more. I can do this.
“I’m twenty-five. Just turned twenty-five on Saturday.”
Noah’s lips part in surprise, giving way to an irresistible grin. “No shit? Your birthday was this past Saturday?” he asks, like he needs clarification.
“Yeah.”
“Wow, my twin and I turned twenty-five on Sunday. So, you’re technically older than me. One may say you’re robbing the cradle.”
He’s a tease and a flirt. I love it. “Yeah, I guess I am. So, tell me, where were you born? It would be funny if we were in the same hospital.”
“As you know, my parents are from Issaquah. Liam and I were born at the Swedish hospital there,” Noah answers.
“Well, I guess we weren’t born in the same place. My mom had me at Swedish in Edmonds.”
“But what are the odds, right?” He opens his mouth to speak, and I stare longingly at him. What I would do for his lips to be fused with mine right now.
“Ash, you there?” he asks and yeah, I missed that he’s still talking. I’d been too focused on his lips.
“Yeah, sorry. Go ahead.” I wonder if he’ll ask me what had me zoning out. But he doesn’t.
“So, what’s your favorite food?”That’s his question.Phew!
