His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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C A M I L A
Billy Idol's Eyes Without a Face filters through the walls, the old stereo in the kitchen offering a soundtrack to my internal meltdown.
I'm pacing barefoot on my carpet in baggy black sweatpants and an equally loose hoodie.
Oh god. Oh god.
My hair is pulled back, clean from the shower, and I've brushed my teeth three times. My skin smells like the coconut cream I've slathered on my skin in an attempt to calm down but it has not worked and it won't work and I can't believe Maddie just left!
I press my back to my door and slide down, pulling the strings of my hood until my field of vision closes up. I should jump out the window.
The music shifts, the next song coming through, sensual and soul-pounding guitar. Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.
He's trying to kill me.
With a deep breath, I get to my feet, shrugging off my hood.
Stepping into the hallway, my heart hammers against the sensual guitar drifting from the kitchen. I creep around and see Noah at the sink, damp purple sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands working under the stream of water.
This is like a crush on speed. Ecstasy.
Well, I've never done drugs. But maybe tonight.
His hair is pushed back, a few strands falling over his forehead, and I'm drunk on the urge to touch them. Drunk on the urge to let him touch me. He hums along, off-key but endearing.
I add tone-deaf to my mental Noah Map.
There's another small scar on his neck. And a little dark beauty mark next to it. It's the little things that get me. He's beautiful in a way that's entirely his.
Where's his fatal flaw, huh? I'm waiting.
Noah glances up, as if sensing me, and our eyes lock. "Hey, Rocky."
I like that. I should've jumped out the window.
I lean against the door frame, arms crossed, then uncrossed, then crossed again. "Um, I'm really sorry you somehow got stuck with this."
He dries his hands on a dish towel and turns fully to me, gesturing for me to come closer with a finger. My body just...listens.
I stop about a foot away.
He nods to the counter behind me. "Hop up."
"Um, okay," I murmur, shuffling back until my lower back hits the edge. Jumping up, I shift a bit, my legs hanging.
Am I in a time-out?
Noah leans back against the sink, arms crossed. "You have good taste in music."
