Page 149 of Under the Lies

While Noah and Thea play shadow, Reeve and Gabe have been trying to find who took me from the art gallery. There was a list of guests, so they’ve been going through it meticulously, interrogating each person.

So far they haven’t had much luck.

With each passing day of them not finding the person, Noah grows more and more frustrated.

Every night, he storms into his office and locks himself inside the room for hours.

It’s not until I’m getting ready for bed that he ventures out to pull me out of my bedroom and into his. Because that’s where I sleep now. In Noah’s room with his arms wrapped around me like a boa.

Never would I have pegged Noah to be a cuddler, but in the middle of the night I wake up to his chest pressed against my back, one arm wrapped around my waist while the other cups one of my boobs.

Although, I’m not sure Noah would call it cuddling. From the way he’s wrapped around my body it feels like he’s putting himself in front of me to ward off another attack.

My guard. My shield. My protector.

Sometimes I catch him watching me as if I’m going to vanish. I called him out on it one night, but in typical Noah fashion, he didn’t answer me. Just smirked and pulled me to his chest, his lips finding mine. That night he kissed me like he needed reassurance.

One morning when Thea was walking with me to class, I told her about it, and she reminded me that he lost his parents when he was young and emotions work differently with Noah.

He was a broken, damaged boy who grew up to be a callous and merciless man. But underneath that hard shell exterior, I knew there was a man whose heart beat red.

A man who currently stands in the kitchen; bare-chested as he makes us breakfast.

“You’re staring.”

“You want me to stare,” I remind him. If he didn’t want me ogling him, he’d put on a shirt. I watch him as much as he watches me. It’s hard not to when he’s a magnet for my gaze.

We pull to each other, opposite ends of the same string.

He smirks into the pan as I make myself more comfortable on the kitchen stool.

Today has been canceled. Literally. More snow than predicted fell during the night with inches piling up on the streets and roads.

It’s six a.m. and already half the city has lost power. Shut down for the day.

So this is how I’m choosing to spend it. Watching Noah make an elaborate feast for two. Eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, toast, and champagne, I can’t stop myself from thinking he’s trying to butter me up for a snow day sex fest.

And if that’s the case, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. I’m behind on schoolwork so today has to be my catch-up day. And I will not let him distract me.

He’s the reason I’m behind to begin with.

I tear my gaze from Noah, opening my laptop to force myself to work.

As I’m typing away, my body shivers. Maybe I picked the wrong outfit to wear, a stolen button-down from Noah’s floor, and socks. It’s not cozy enough for a snow day. I need to be cozy.

About twenty minutes in and one assignment finished, I decide to check the weather radar before jumping into the next.

When I see what they’re reporting, my eyes widen. God, that’s so much snow predicted.

Why did I move back here again?

A throat clears, startling me.

Noah frowns as he jerks his chin to the two plates on the counter stacked with food.

Ah, we’re back to his native tongue. Caveman.

Too bad for him, I chose French in school.

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