Of course, a short-term fling could blossom into something more, but when they slept together, he wanted her fully committed to making this thing between them work. His thought process stunned him. He’d never before given any consideration to how a woman would feel about sleeping with him. Only that she did.
What the hell had happened to him? Of course, the answer was simple, even if it had taken him months to figure it out: Libby St. Clair.
“Noah?”
She had to wonder why he was just standing there, gawking at her. What had they been talking about? Oh, yeah. His password.
“My laptop is more secure than Fort Knox.” He moved to the other side of the bed and sat down, trying to act like sitting next to her on the bed they were going to sleep in together was no big deal.
“Is that a challenge?” Her voice rose with excitement.
“Sure, if that makes you happy. I’d prefer to call it a worthless endeavor.”
She closed the computer and handed it to him. He set it on the nightstand, worried he’d stolen her playfulness, but while she wasn’t bursting with happiness, she wasn’t frowning either.
He started to slide closer to her, but there was a knock at the door. Libby stiffened, her body tense with anxiety, and Noah slid off the bed. “I’ll check and see who it is.”
He peered through the peephole, and was surprised to see a hotel employee with a room service tray. “You must have the wrong room,” he said, opening the door. “We didn’t order anything.”
The older man dressed in black pants and a white long-sleeved shirt paired with a black bow tie cleared his throat. “Compliments of the hotel. For your wedding night.” His eyes shifted to Noah’s crotch, but he abruptly lifted his gaze and held out a tray with a bottle of champagne, two plastic cups, and a piece of shriveled angel food cake.
Noah tried to hide his grin as he took the tray.
“Is it true?” the man asked. “Did she . . . you know?”
Noah gave a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back and lowering his voice. “Yeah, she’s vicious in bed. I can show you the foot-long scar if you like. It’s still pretty fresh.”
The man’s eyes widened and he turned around, muttering, “No thank you, no thank you,” before hurrying down the hall to the elevator.
Noah carried the tray into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.
“A foot long?” Libby commented with raised brows. “I’m sure there’s some psychological delusion of grandeur there.”
Noah grinned as he set the tray on the dresser, trying to think of things other than his exaggerated twelve inches and the woman on the bed. His T-shirt wouldn’t hide much. “How about some champagne?”
Her smile fell. “Champagne is for celebrating and there is nothing to celebrate.”
“I disagree.” Noah twisted off the cork and quickly filled the plastic cups, then carried them over to the bed and sat down, one leg still dangling off the side. “Here.”
She refused to take it. “No. I told you we have nothing to celebrate.”
“Of course we do. How about the fact you dodged a bullet today? You could have married a man you didn’t really love, but you came to your senses at the last minute.”
He held it out to her again and she reluctantly took it this time. “That doesn’t seem like something to be proud of.”
He looked her in the eyes. “It took guts, Lib. Do you know how many people would have just stood there and gone through with it?”
Some emotion washed over her face, but it passed too quickly for him to register. She looked up with a smile. “How about we celebrate the fact I haven’t kicked you in the other ball . . . yet.”
He burst out laughing. “I’ll drink to that, although I resent the tacked-on yet.”
She clacked her glass against his, then took a healthy gulp.
He took a sip of his own champagne and said, “Looks like we’ll need more of this.” He got up and grabbed the bottle and the cake, setting the bottle on the nightstand before sitting down again. “Do you want the cake?”
“Angel food?” she asked. “Doesn’t sound appropriate for either one of us. You and I are more like devil’s food, don’t you think?” Her teasing tone removed the sting.
“Maybe it’ll be a good influence on us.” He picked it up off the plate and held it up to her mouth.
Hesitation flickered in her eyes for a few seconds, but she leaned forward and took a bite. She grabbed the cake out of his hand and held it up to him, lifting her eyebrows playfully.
As she held the cake in front of his face, he realized why she’d held back for a moment. Without realizing what he was doing, he’d reenacted the cake part of a wedding reception.
She put the cake on the plate, then finished off her cup of champagne. He grabbed the bottle and poured more for her.
“What do you want to do?” he asked. “Watch some TV? Go to sleep?”
“TV. I don’t think I can sleep.”
He reached for the remote and clicked on the TV, scrolling through the channels until he found an episode of Friends. The goal was to put her at ease. They’d watched plenty of movies together at her apartment, and sometime he’d sit behind her and rub her back. “I’ll rub your back if you like.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, turn around.”
She drank the rest of her champagne and handed him the cup before scooting closer.
“Why don’t you lay your head on my legs, close enough for me to reach your back.”
“Okay.”
She maneuvered so that she lay sideways, her head resting on his upper thighs. His hand rested on her back. It should have been no big deal; they’d watched TV on her sofa before, but never this intimately.
He stayed still for a moment, letting her relax on him before he began to rub over her T-shirt, shifting slightly so she couldn’t see his arousal at the sight of her sexy legs and barely covered ass. She sighed with contentment and soon her breathing evened, her body sagged into his, and he realized she’d fallen asleep.
To his surprise his arousal faded, shifting to something deeper—the need to make sure she felt protected and comforted. He realized even if she made a move, he would turn her down. That so wasn’t his style, but he didn’t want to blow their chance on what she could potentially see as a one-night fling.
The episode ended and he turned off the TV, then tried to decide if he should disturb her to turn off the light.
She shifted slightly, then lifted her head to look at him. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”
“It’s okay, I’m tired too.” He reached up and flipped the switch, flooding the room with darkness.
She scooted off him but stayed close. “Noah? Can I ask you a favor?”
“Anything . . . well, except for buying you tampons. A guy has to draw the line somewhere.”
She laughed. “You’re safe there . . . for now.”
He grinned in the dark. “What’s your favor?”
She paused, and when she finally answered, her voice sounded unsure. “Will you hold me?”
He didn’t answer, just rolled onto his side and reached for her, pulling her back to his chest, bending his hips back in case touching her aroused him again.