My face flushed as I remembered what we’d just done, how he’d taken me in the ass, put me up on the ottoman on all fours and entered me, all the while pulling on my hair, tangling it with the belt he’d wrapped around my neck.
“I’m not talking about the sex, Noah,” I said.
“What are you talking about, Charlotte?” His back was to me as he opened his desk drawer and placed the belt inside. But I could tell from his tone that I was treading on dangerous ground. I wasn’t stupid - he’d fucked me soft and slow to distract me.
But I wouldn’t be distracted.
Not from this.
“I’m talking about using me. To lure out whoever killed Katie.”
He slid the drawer shut slowly. Then he gripped the edge of his desk and leaned over it, the muscles in his arms flexing. The light from the desk lamp bounced off his bronze skin, making him look more like a model in a photo shoot for office furniture than a powerful lawyer. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. But still, he didn’t look at me. “That’s not going to happen.” His tone was measured, and I could tell it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to explode.
But I was done treading carefully.
Now that I’d seen the evidence, there was no getting away from the truth. If we didn’t do something drastic, there was a good chance Noah would spend the rest of his life in jail.
“Noah,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice calm. “You need to do something drastic. You need to –”
“Don’t tell me what I need to do,” he said, cutting me off. His voice was raised, and I could tell he was losing his grip on his control. The thought gave me a sick satisfaction. He should be losing his grip on his control. Everything about this situation was out of control, and for him to think otherwise was insane. “What I need to do is keep you safe.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, sick of playing his game. “And how are you going to do that from jail, Noah? How are you going to keep me safe while you’re locked up and we’re allowed one visit a week where we can’t even touch each other?”
“I’m not going to jail.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Charlotte!” he said. “Enough!” His cheeks were flushed, his muscular chest heaving as his breathing deepened.
“Enough what?” I asked. I stood up and grabbed my jeans off the floor. “Enough truth? Enough uncomfortable conversations? I’m sorry, Noah, but sometimes life involves uncomfortable conversations, it involves dealing with things, not just burying your head in the sand and pretending nothing is happening.”
He walked over to me, grabbed my hand. “You’re not leaving.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.” He wrestled my jeans out of my hand, threw them on the floor. His face was a mask of determination. But I was sick of playing by his rules, sick of the arrogance he displayed by deciding anything I had to say should be dismissed because he thought he knew better.
“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But if I stay here, we’re talking about this. We’re discussing it. You can’t just dismiss me because you don’t think I’m smart enough to exist on your level.”
His eyes darkened, his face clouding with confusion for a moment before softening. “Is that what you think? That I don’t think you’re smart enough to have an opinion?”
“I don’t know what you think,” I countered. “Because you won’t tell me.”
“Charlotte.” He took my hand in his. His strong fingers began kneading my palm, the massage causing the tension to instantly begin flowing out of my body. His gaze was on my face, watching me, smoky and penetrating and disconcerting. I hated that he had this effect on me, hated that every time I tried to stand up to him, he would touch me or kiss me or say something that made me lose my senses, made me lose my mind. “You are the smartest, kindest, most amazing woman I know. You are everything I want, more than I could dream.”
His words sent a lusty warmth sliding through my body.
I longed to surrender to him, to just let him take care of everything. To let him wrap me in his sweater and take me back to his apartment, to let him take control, to let him tie me up and take me and render me powerless.
It would certainly have been easier to just play his game, to let him pull the strings, to test me like he had today at that meeting with Professor Worthington and Clementine.
For a moment, I almost gave in.
But I pulled my hand away from his.
“Then why won’t you talk to me about this?” I asked softly. I took my palm and pressed it against his bare chest. I could feel his heart beating, strong and steady. “If you mean those things that you say, then why won’t you talk to me, Noah? Why won’t you let me in?”