What if she was called as a witness, or suspect, and her phone records were subpoenaed? A call to Noah right after a visit from the arson investigator would look suspicious. And it should.
One thought toppled onto others. What if someone had seen them together the night before? Either coming out of Flawless. Or worse, entering her apartment building. What if Investigator Durvan already knew they’d come up to her apartment, and that Noah had stayed until the wee hours. One plus one would make a man like Durvan think of sex every time. Not that Noah had actually been in her bed. They’d never made it that far.
There it was again, the jolt of desire that made her body flush and her toes curl inside her sky-high heels every time her mind wandered to the early hours of the morning.
She glanced begrudgingly at the chair on which they’d had sex—made love? The novelty of her feelings surprised her. She’d wanted Noah Glover with an urgency she hadn’t felt since Arnaud. And maybe not then. She’d been almost a virgin with Arnaud. Now she was a grown woman who knew pleasure—how to give it and receive it.
Last night she’d done both, with a man who knew how to give as well as receive too.
She blew out a long almost desperate breath.
She’d thought she knew what she was doing. It was just sex, after all. Nothing earth shattering, or with a future. She had heard out all his objections, all the sane reasons why they should take their hands off each other, turn their backs, and step quickly away in opposite directions. But they hadn’t.
Even after the first time, they hadn’t wanted to get far enough apart to make it possible to move to the softer more comfortable bed in the next room.
He’d simply held her as she lay in boneless contentment against him until it was clear that his body was rallying. His touch turned more gentle the second time. His fingers no longer held on desperately but leisurely quested out the contours of her body. He whispered into her ear. Telling her what he was going to do to her, and how it was going to be better than the first time.
The wonder of it was, he’d kept that promise. With her still astride him, he’d found a way to take control, hands holding, molding, forcing her up and down his shaft until she was gasping softly as his mouth tugged first one nipple and then the other. He was waiting, still whispering now and then in a deep voice that seemed to come from someplace deeper than his chest. And still he waited, bringing her to climax twice before he groaned and stiffened and emptied into her.
Carly smiled as she ran a finger along the back of the chair she’d never before liked all that much. She hadn’t expected the power of the feelings that stirred in her lower belly even now. It wasn’t the beginning of anything. It couldn’t be.
And yet, the erotic images that her memory was suddenly offering up fed those hot and satisfying sensations.
Carly turned away from the chair. She’d matched his composure after they’d come back to reality, still locked in a sweaty embrace. Leaning toward him, her eyes shut, she remembered how she inhaled the scent of his skin just beneath his chin one last time. A memory to preserve until another night.
Smiling, she opened her eyes. That’s when reality landed like Dorothy’s Kansas house, shattering the unformed plans stirring in her thoughts.
In the faint light she had seen his expression becoming wary even before he spoke.
They couldn’t have another time. This was it.
And so she’d retreated, watched him dress silently, and then let him go.
Carly turned toward the view beyond her windows.
How did she feel about Noah Glover? She wasn’t certain. She hadn’t had to consider a man in in her life in—damn!—years. There’d been no conscious decision to become celibate. It had just happened, first as a protection against the pain of Arnaud’s death. And then because she was busy trying to reinvent herself. The drought had lasted so long, it was no surprise she’d been overwhelmed by the sensation of good sex. Oh, Noah was good. But eyes-rolling-back-in-her-head good?
Or was that just the novelty of letting go after three years of self-imposed celibacy that had turned her into a delicious mush of satiation?
“I’d have to have something to compare it to.” She spoke the words to the chair, as if it might provide the solution. The only idea that formed in her head in reply was More, please.
But Noah wouldn’t be coming back. Not to her home, or to her bed. He’d made that clear.
The very best thing she could do was go to church and pray all during the service that she wouldn’t be caught up in Noah Glover’s life any more than she already was. No good could come of getting in deeper.