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Brazen
I check the clock and drive faster.
Noah will be leaving the office at any minute, and I haven’t seen her all day.
I’ve been dying to claim her lips since Benson interrupted us on her porch.
Noah and her lips have even been running through my dreams.
My tires squeal a little as I pull into the office parking lot. The front door opens, and Noah steps outside. To my surprise, she doesn’t stop when she sees me. She strolls away down the sidewalk. Cursing my timing, I throw my truck into park and jump to the pavement.
“Noah!” I start to jog. “Hey, wait up!”
“Oh, hey, Brazen.” She lifts her purse strap higher on her shoulder but doesn’t stop walking.
I’m stuck between loving her legs, which are bare again today, or hating them because they are carrying her farther away.
“Where are you going?” I ask, trying to keep the annoyance from my tone.
Our date went great last night before our good-bye, didn’t it? Why the hell does she seem as if she can’t get away from me fast enough?
I walk beside her, meeting her brisk pace.
“To the center. I have another class tonight.”
Is she giving me the brush-off?
Stunned, I falter in my steps and come to a stop. Noah doesn’t even slow.
She does look back at me over her shoulder while biting her bottom lip. “Well, are you coming?” Her voice is sly, and her expression hints of wicked intentions.
She’s up to no good. It’s intoxicating on such an innocent girl. She doesn’t have to ask me twice before I’m hot on her heels again. Together, we walk the short distance to her class.
I’ve never really enjoyed sitting around, drawing, but it’s a whole new experience with Noah. At the center, she helps to set up my area once again but neglects to set up her own.
“I’ll be right back,” she tells me.
And I’m left scratching my head.
The instructor comes out but still no Noah.
I fiddle with the oil paints that she set up for me, keeping my attention on the door.
I’m still watching it as she comes back in … wearing a robe.
I attempt to control my reaction, but I’m positive that I fail when I have to practically pick my jaw up off the floor. The tube of green paint falls from my hand. With long strides, Noah walks onto the stage in the center of the room, never once breaking eye contact with me. I get the sense that she’s telling me something, and I am sure as fuck listening. She takes a deep breath and looks down for just a beat. Then, her chin lifts, her eyes rise to mine, and a coy smile spreads across her face as she slowly drops the robe to her feet.
I couldn’t look away even if there were a freight train barreling toward me.
It isn’t about her body or her naked skin.
My initial reaction is so much deeper than that.
Noah is wearing all her emotions on her flesh.
It’s complete honesty in its truest form, and somehow, it doesn’t even bother me that we’re in a roomful of people. They are inconsequential when it comes to what’s transpiring between us. Noah isn’t up there for them. She relaxes her shoulders and positions herself for the hour-long session, and I still haven’t cracked open a single color or touched any of the brushes set out for me.
Her body is the perfect picture of sensuality. Her right hand lightly touches her slender neck and draws attention to her delicate clavicle. Her left hand grazes her hip, accentuating her natural curves, and her ashy blonde hair falls in front of her shoulder, resting atop the swell of her breasts.
