Page 43 of His Greatest Muse

He answers with two steps toward me. My lips part when he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed and places two shaky palms on my lower thighs. I freeze, my legs so tense they begin to burn.

The air fizzles as I focus on the heat of his hands. On the scent of leather and spice. On the growing throb between my legs.

He watches me with those dark eyes, suddenly so full of emotion I struggle to suck in my next breath. My blood feels electric, my skin buzzing. I tighten my grip on the comforter to keep from reaching for him.

When he speaks, I feel the words rip through my skin and bones before burrowing deep in my soul.

“You are the only one I will ever get on my knees for. That should tell you everything you need to know.” Calloused fingers rub at the material of my jeans as if they’re trying to burn a hole through them to touch my bare skin. “I’ve been patient. You’ve seen it. You know what I feel for you. What I think of you. I will not pretend you didn’t light up for me earlier. You’re mine, and you’ll realize that soon.”

My lungs scream at me to breathe, but I struggle to. It’s already taking everything in me not to run and hide. Not out of fear of Noah but of the confidence in his words. He doesn’t just think we’ll be together; he seems sure of it. That’s what scares me.

Have I really been that blind? Is there something I’m just not understanding? Am I that naïve to my feelings that I didn’t see what he has been?

A knuckle traces the line of my jaw. It’s just the ghost of a touch, but it helps me steady myself. I focus on Noah’s eyes and watch the specks of gold dance in the brown. This is still my best friend. The one person I trust more than any other on this earth. I need to focus on that.

I want a fairy tale and a Taylor Swift song-worthy love. That’s what I’ve always wanted. But if that’s true . . . why am I beginning to feel such a pull toward the man who isn’t meant to fit into either of those categories?

Have I just been reading the wrong stories and listening to the wrong music?

“I’ve scared you,” he rasps.

I swallow to soothe my dry throat and shake my head. With a full breath, I uncurl my fingers from the blanket and shyly rest a hand atop the one he has on my thigh.

“I’ve always known that you cared for me that way. But I—I’m not—I just—you’re my best friend, Noah. That means everything to me. You are so important to me,” I push out. Frustration nips at me.

He doesn’t look surprised by my words. “I won’t push you. But I refuse to hide my feelings from you anymore. It’s too hard.”

Suddenly, a wave of sadness barrels into me. I tug my lip between my teeth and bite down to try and fight the burn in my eyes. My nostrils flare as I glance at the ceiling.

“Tinsley.” It’s nothing more than a rough sound.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” I whisper.

A deep, pained sound fills the room before he gently grabs my face between two rough hands and forces me to look at him. A lone tear slips out of the corner of my eye, and by the way Noah recoils, you’d think I had reached out and slapped him.

He’s always been terrible with tears.

“Stop,” he demands.

I choke on a watery laugh. “Most people are afraid of things like clowns or sharks. Not tears.”

He scowls while taking his thumb to the inner corner of my eye to collect the tear. The lines between his brows become more prominent. “I’m afraid of nothing.”

“Sure.”

“You’re afraid of ladybugs.”

I scrunch my face, the sting in my eyes gone just as suddenly as it appeared. Just like he was hoping.

“They appear out of nowhere and infest your home. They’re the worst type of pest.”

“They’re cute.”

“You don’t think anything is cute. Nice try.”

“Liam is cute.”

“Liam is a child. Of course you’d use him to back yourself.”

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