“Let’s agree to disagree.” Then I raise my fist to my mouth and cough-mumble, “You’re wrong.”
“I heard that, Kavanaugh. Loud and clear.” She sounds amused, and it takes effort to school my features and keep my eyes on the road ahead of us. I can’t ignore the fact that it makes me damn happy—and relieved—to have Noelle back to normal, back to feeling herself. Especially since she had been released from the hospital earlier. As I make the drive back to my house, I wonder how well she’s going to handle sleeping at night—without the help of a sleep aid like the one she’d been given at the hospital.
As if she senses the train of my thoughts, I hear her let out a long, drawn-out breath. “I could really do without the last few months—maybe even year—of my life.”
There’s a pinched feeling in my chest at her words, even though I realize what she’s getting at. The thing is, as selfish as it might be, I wouldn’t undo the last few months—even taking all the shit with her ex into account—because it’s been pretty damn incredible. Being with Noelle, having her around and not in a work-only capacity. For whatever reason, her presence is soothing.
“I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting me out of your hair, especially after all this.” There’s a tinge of self-deprecating teasing to her tone.
I pull the truck into the driveway, park, and turn off the ignition before unfastening my seatbelt, letting my eyes rest on her. She’s watching me, appearing apologetic and almost shy.
“I really am sorry you got roped into all my … crap.”
“Hey.” My tone is soft, but commanding. I reach out and cradle the side of her face with my palm. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. All that matters is that you’re safe.”
We stay that way for a beat, probably far longer than I realize because I swear, this woman has some strange pull on me. I could easily sit here and watch her, not just for her outer beauty, but also for the vibrant personality that shines through.
Fuck. Now, she’s got me on the verge of spouting off sonnets and shit.
The start of a smile plays at her lips. “Something the matter, Kavanaugh? You look a little green.” Her smile grows. “Maybe too much of a sappy, sincere moment for the big, bad Grinch?”
I let my hand drop slowly from her face, dusting over her shoulder and breast, catching her nipple and giving it a quick swipe with my thumb before I rest it between us on the console.
She gasps. “Kavanaugh!”
My eyes widen in mock surprise. “Davis? What’s wrong?”
I only receive one of those looks, before I shift to get out of the truck, hiding my smirk. Coming around to her door, I assist her as she gets out, muttering under her breath about how I’m trouble and need to work on keeping my hands to myself. There’s no heat to her words, though.
Walking up the steps, I mention, “Laney dropped off some stuff for you again. Feel free to take a shower; do whatever you like. I’ll make us some dinner.” Unlocking the door, I enter and disarm the security system. I set my wallet and keys on the counter in the kitchen while she heads off to what I now think of as her bedroom.
Her bedroom.
“Holy shit,” I mutter to myself, washing my hands in the sink, watching as the water runs off my hands and disappears down the drain. Dazed, I turn off the water, but don’t make a move toward the refrigerator to start dinner. Standing there at my kitchen sink, I’m hit with the fact that Noelle Davis is the first woman to be here longer than any of the others. Ever. Shaking off my thoughts, I don’t want to investigate why or how she’s managed that.
Moving to the refrigerator, I dig out some Muenster cheese and toss it on the counter beside the sourdough bread already sitting there. Deciding to make some grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup—comfort food I hope will ensure she feels a sense of calmness after all the events the past twenty-four hours.
I get to work while I hear the shower running in the spare bathroom. Where Noelle is naked and washing her body with soap. If I were in the shower with her, I’d be washing her—no, wait. That’s not true. I’d be pressing her against the wall, my mouth on hers while I slid my fingers inside of that sweet pussy of hers, right before I’d slide down onto my knees and put my mouth over—
“Fuck!” The smell of burning toast jars me from my daydream, and I hurry up and flip the sandwich over. “Guess I’ll be eating that one,” I mutter. Working hard to regain my focus, by the time I finish making the sandwiches and heating up the soup, I hear the sound of bare feet padding across the hardwood floor.
“Something smells good.”