Then he pulled me down toward him, so that my back was to his front. I could feel his dick, hard through his boxers, against my ass.
There was no pretense this time, no build up.
He pushed my t-shirt all the way up, pulled my panties down, and pulled me toward him.
“Open your legs,” he commanded.
He pushed in between them from behind and entered me in one long stroke. He grabbed my arm and pulled it back toward him, wrapping his other hand around my neck, his index finger slipping into my mouth.
He fucked me hard and fast.
“Come for me,” he said. “Come for me, baby.”
It was fast and dirty and the thought of him using my body was a turn on. So I did as he said. I came.
After it was over, he reached over and shut off the light, pulled me close to him, so that we were spooning.
“Charlotte,” he whispered. “What the hell are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know.”
He ran his fingers over my arm softly, slowly.
We were silent for a few moments and then I said, “Are you sleeping?”
“No. Are you?”
“No.” I giggled. “I just… don’t you think it’s weird that I hardly know anything about you?”
“You know plenty about me.”
“Not really.” I swallowed. “I don’t know where you’re from or if you have any brothers and sisters.”
“I’m from a very small town. I have one brother. We’re not close.” He pushed my hair off the back of my neck and kissed me. “Is that enough?”
“No,” I said honestly. “I feel so close to you, and yet that seems crazy. Because I don’t know anything about you. It’s frustrating.”
“It is extremely difficult for me to get close to people,” he said.
I thought about that woman, Nora, his ex-fiance, who died. I wondered if she was the reason he was afraid to get close to people. I intertwined my fingers with his. I wanted to ask him about her, but I sensed he would cause him to become more shut down than he already was.
“Is that why you wanted to bring me to that club?” I asked. “Because you feel like if you maintain control physically, you can maintain control emotionally?”
“Perhaps.”
I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t.
I wanted more.
I wanted him to tell me about his childhood, about where he grew up, about college, his parents, his favorite foods, his favorite cases, just… I wanted to talk to him.
In another sense, though, this was enough, the way he was being with me. The fact that he was holding me close, our bodies perfectly meshed together, felt like some kind of victory, some kind of tiny progress when it came to getting close to him.
“Goodnight, Charlotte,” he said.
“Goodnight, Noah.”
A second later, I was asleep.
I woke before it was light out, blinking groggily in the dark.
“Morning,” Noah said. He was standing on his side of the bed, dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and running pants. Even in his running clothes, fresh out of bed, he looked amazing. I shivered. “I’m going for a run,” he said. “It’s too early for you to be awake. Go back to sleep.”
He kissed me on my cheek and I slipped back off to sleep.
I was dimly aware of him coming back, of the sound of the shower running, of him emerging wearing only a towel, a flash of him in a suit, carrying a briefcase.
When I finally woke up, sun was streaming through the window and the clock next to me said 10:07. So much for getting up early.
I had a text on my phone from Noah.
At the office. Call me when you get this.
I sighed and lied back on the bed. The text was so perfunctory, so brief. I’d felt close to him last night, at least for a moment, and now I felt distant again.
I was just about to call him when my phone rang.
Professor Worthington.
“Charlotte?” he barked when I answered.
“Yes,” I said, trying to infuse my voice with enough energy so that he’d think I’d been awake for hours instead of sleeping in the bed of our client, a potential murderer.
“You need to get down to the park right now,” he said.
“Okay.” I sat up. “Is everything okay?”
“No, Charlotte, everything is not okay. They’ve found another body.”
“Another body?” My heart pounded in my ears.
“Yes. It’s Katie. Noah’s secretary. She’s dead.”
END OF BOOK THREE
WHAT HE NEEDS
(What He Wants, Book Four)
NOAH
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her eyes. Her skin. The way her body felt against mine. It was disconcerting, how I couldn’t get her out of my head.
My morning run was the time I used to quiet my mind, to block out all the noise of the city and the world and my own obsessive thoughts.
But she kept creeping in.
And I couldn’t stop it.
I ran faster, trying to escape her, but it was no use. My thoughts drifted to last night, how those men were looking at her in the club as I led her to the basement. They’d been salivating over her breasts and that gorgeous round ass of hers, and she’d had no idea. I’d wanted to fuck her right there, right in front of them, to show them that she was mine. But I was too protective of her for that. I didn’t even like that they got to see her in her sexy little dress. The thought of them looking at her body made me boil with jealousy.
She was so curvy that no matter what she was wearing, she was going to become the fantasy of every man she crossed paths with. I was going to have to set some rules about how she could dress in public. I couldn’t stop men from staring at her completely, but I could certainly make it more difficult.
My dick twitched as I remembered how she was afraid she wasn’t enough for me. The fact that she was worried about this already, after just one session at the club, made my cock hard. I couldn’t wait to explore her body, to push her, to tie her, to spank her, to fuck her and take her in every way she could even dream possible.
I picked up my pace, trying to channel my sexual energy into something physical, but it didn’t even take the edge off.
When I got back to my apartment, she was lying in my bed, her hair spread in a halo on the pillow. Her face was peaceful, the covers in a tangle around her body. She’d slept naked, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to pull the covers off her, push her legs up and bury my face in her tight little cunt. Her pussy was soft and smooth and tasted like honey.
She’d been asking questions last night, about why I needed the things I needed. I wanted to let her in, wanted to give her the answers she so desperately wanted.
I was beginning to realize that I would do anything to keep her close to me, to make sure I could have her near me whenever I wanted. And if that involved letting her in, I would have to find a way to do that.
My heart pulsed faster in my chest, as much at the sight of her long shapely legs and pouty little lips as the fact that I might have to let my walls down.
The thought itself was a threat, terrifying in its intensity.