“Stand up.”
I stood up and he grabbed me around the waist, picked me up like I was a rag doll and pushed my back up against the door.
I wrapped my legs around him as he entered me, my nails digging into his back as he fucked me.
“God, you feel good,” he said.
I moaned, and leaned my head back as he started moving faster, his cock pounding my pussy harder and faster as my back slammed against the door behind me.
I closed my eyes as his mouth returned to mine, our tongues moving against each other in a wet frenzy as we fucked.
He pulled away. “Look at me,” he whispered. “I want you to look at me when you come.”
“I want to come,” I groaned.
“Do it,” he said. “Come all over me, baby. Come on my hard dick.”
I came, crying out, not caring who heard. Our eyes were locked on each other as my orgasm ripped through me. The connection between us was so intense it took every ounce of my self-control not to look away from him – the feeling was so amazing, so pleasurable that I almost couldn’t take it.
At the end of my orgasm, just as my pussy was spasming on his cock, I felt him release his load inside of me, shot after shot, filling me with his cum.
He collapsed against me, both of us spent.
When we’d finally caught our breath, I unwrapped my legs from around his waist and lowered them to the floor. I was breathless, light-headed, almost high from what we’d just done.
“Charlotte,” Noah said, pushing my hair back from my face. “I don’t ever... I thought I’d lost you. I don’t want to ever feel like that again.”
He pulled me close, so close I could feel his heart beating rapidly against mine.
Then, finally, he pulled away.
“Well,” he said, picking his sweater up off the floor. “I should probably head back to the table. I’ll give you a second, and then you can join me.”
Once he was gone, I let out the breath I’d been holding.
I splashed some water on my face. My cheeks were flushed and my hair was a mess, but other than that, I didn’t look that bad. I dressed quickly and smoothed my hair down, hoping the waiter wouldn’t realize what we’d been up to, but knowing he probably would.
When I got back to the table, Noah was standing by the table, with his coat on.
“Hi,” he said when he saw me.
“Hi.” I looked at our table. It had been cleared and reset with new place settings.
“Oh,” I said. “I guess we’re not having dinner.” I was disappointed. I was suddenly ravenous, and I wanted my steak.
“I had them wrap it up,” Noah said. “I thought it would taste better at my place.”
I smiled. “It will taste better at your place,” I said.
“Then let’s go.” He took my hand and led me through the main part of the restaurant toward the front door. I liked that he was holding my hand, that he was showing the world that we were together.
I liked belonging to him.
When we got out onto the sidewalk, I looked around for his car.
“The car’s waiting down the block,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to take it, or if you were more comfortable walking.”
“I’m okay with the car.” I appreciated that he was asking me this, loved that he wanted to make sure I was okay with taking the car after I’d been hesitant before. And I was okay with it now. I felt foolish for not trusting him, for going against my instincts and thinking he might have done something wrong.
Noah wasn’t a murderer.
He was the man I was falling in love with.
We were halfway to the limo when it happened.
Three police cars pulled up to the sidewalk, their sirens blaring, throwing beams of red and blue light onto the concrete.
Two cops got out of the car, guns drawn.
“Noah Cutler,” one of them yelled. “Put your hands up in the air! Right now, put your hands up in the air!”
My heart pounded in my chest, the blood rushing in my ears. Noah dropped my hand and stepped away from me. I went to grab it again reflexively, but he was already moving away, out of my reach.
“Really?” Noah asked, sighing. “It had to go down this way?”
The cop reached into his pocket and pulled out his handcuffs. “Noah Cutler,” he said. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Katie Price. You have the right to remain silent…”
He kept talking, reading Noah his rights, but I couldn’t hear him. It was suddenly like everything was happening in the slow motion haze of a nightmare I couldn’t get out of. I was rooted in place, unable to move, unable to talk, unable to even process what was going on.
“Call Worthington,” Noah instructed me before they loaded him into the back of the police car.
I tried to pull out my phone and call Professor Worthington, but I couldn’t. I was frozen in place. And I stayed frozen in place, watching as the sirens started back up and the cruiser pulled back onto the street.
Bile rose up in my throat and I leaned over and dry heaved onto the sidewalk.
Noah had been arrested.
Which could only mean two things.
One, they had evidence implicating him in Katie’s murder.
And two, things were about to get even more complicated.
Finally, I pulled out my phone and dialed Professor Worthington.
“Professor,” I said when he answered. “We have a problem.”
END OF BOOK FIVE
WHAT HE PROTECTS
(What He Wants, Book Six)
CHARLOTTE
It bothered me that I knew exactly how to get to the police station. In fact, it almost seemed normal now, walking in and seeing the same receptionist who had been there when Noah was questioned.
She was decidedly less friendly today. This time, there were no private looks about how hot Noah was, no professional tone or polite attitude. She gave me a sigh when she saw me, and acted put-out when I told her I was there to speak with someone who’d just been arrested.
“Name?” she asked.
“Mine or the, um, sus—person’s?”
“Suspect’s.”
“Noah Cutler.” I’m sure I was just being paranoid, but I felt like she could somehow tell I had a personal interest in the case.
“Are you his lawyer?” she asked, looking me up and down skeptically. Not that I could blame her. I didn’t look like a lawyer.
“No,” I said. “I’m a law student. But I’m part of his legal team.”
She shook her head. “Did he call his lawyer?”
“Of course he called his lawyer.” It wasn’t technically true. I was the one who’d called Professor Worthington, explaining to him what had happened while I stood on a busy street corner. He hadn’t seemed shocked or alarmed at all – he just said ‘I’ll meet you there’ and then he’d hung up.
“Well, then you can wait over there,” the receptionist said. “Until the lawyer gets here.”
She said “lawyer” very pointedly, like since I wasn’t one, I had no business being there. I sighed and sat down in one of the folding chairs in the lobby. I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a notebook. But there was nothing for me to make notes on.