A Shot at Love

Not on My Watch

"I can't believe the Brit beat me here," Noah teases with a playful pout, pulling me closer before I can open the door. His clean aftershave consumes my senses, still lingering after a long day at work.

I trace my fingers up the crisp white fabric of his button-down, my touch slow, until they reach the top button. With a flick of my wrist, I undo it, my eyes locking with his. "How about I show you a few things he's never seen?"

Noah's eyes smolder with a dangerous desire. "I'd very much like that," he murmurs, his lips brushing softly against mine. His hands glide slowly up my waist and across my breasts as if memorizing every inch of me. My heart races at his touch as his index finger gently catches the tennis necklace draped around my neck. "I love seeing you wear this."

I inhale deeply, trying to steady my breath. "And I love wearing it," I whisper, my fingers tracing the necklace as a smile tugs at my lips. The memory of Noah's gift floods back—he'd given it to me just before whisking me away on a helicopter ride to the gala in Orange County.

Noah begins planting gentle kisses along my jawline, his lips warm against my skin, while his hand slips seamlessly under my skirt, melting into my inner thigh. "I've decided—I'd like a house tour. Now," he growls between kisses, his voice low. "Just us — and very naked."

Heat floods my cheeks. How does he still have this effect on me?

"Well, Mr. Westbrook," I grin, "I believe we could arrange that." I tug lightly at the collar of his button-down, pulling him closer.

He devours my mouth mercilessly, his minty breath mingling with mine, our faces flushed. His lips pull away, just long enough to breathe out, "I've missed you. God, I've missed you so much, baby." His skilled fingers dance upward, effortlessly tracing the outline of my panties, making my pulse race uncontrollably.

"Oh my gosh, Noah," I giggle, my hand pressing lightly against his chest, a flush spreading across my cheeks at the thought of any neighbors catching us. "We really need to go inside."

With my back against the door, I reach for the cool handle, pressing down and pulling it back to open. But my stomach drops as the door gives way more easily than I expect—it's already open.

I stumble, losing my balance, and before I can catch myself, my heel snags on the doorstep. In an instant, I'm tumbling backward.

Just as I'm about to hit the ground, strong arms wrap around me, pulling me into a secure embrace. Noah's voice is a raspy laugh in my ear. "Careful, baby," he says, his grip firm as he effortlessly steadies me. My heart skips a beat as I look up, his face inches from mine. "I've got you."

Noah holds me for a beat longer, his presence grounding me before we both straighten up. We step into the loft together, and the moment we cross the threshold, our energies shift. It doesn't take long to see—everything is off. The furniture is overturned, drawers and cabinets are thrown open, and every surface is disturbed—it's clear someone has torn the place apart, searching for something specific.

I blink, stunned, trying to process the chaos of my ransacked loft. My stomach drops, and before I can think, my body is already moving toward my bedroom, driven by a gut instinct.

"Kingston, don't!" Noah demands, his eyes narrowing as his protective instincts kick in. I've never heard him sound so serious, so worried. His voice freezes me in my tracks, and he steps in front of me, blocking the way to the bedroom.

I'm too shaken to react. Wordlessly, I step back, allowing Noah to take the lead.

He turns to me, his voice dropping to a hushed tone before he steps toward the bedroom. "Please, baby, stay here until I give you the all-clear, okay?"