Page 41 of Under the Lies

“Relax,” he whispers in my ear. I guess I didn’t unwind as much as I thought. But it’s hard. Agreeing to this.

If I felt uncomfortable and out of place at The Underground, it’s ten times worse being here. People keep staring, their whispers are a constant white noise in my ears.

“I thought you said it didn’t matter how I acted,” I hiss under my breath.

Evidently, he lied.

“It does when it feels like I’m holding a corpse. You’re too tense.”

“Hey, there’s an idea.” I lean my head back onto his chest. “Maybe you don’t need me after all. Harlow would be super jealous if you were suddenly into necrophilia.”

He chuckles, spinning me around so fast the room blurs. His forehead rests on mine. “Not happening. I like my women warm and breathing.”

“How else do you like your women?” I can’t stop myself from asking, curiosity hooks me by her claws.

Noah hums, heat pooling in his eyes, his voice husky as he says, “I have a particular liking for blondes.” He wraps a finger around my hair and tugs it. “And eyes like molten gun metal.”

Me.

“Noah—” Swallowing, my hands go to his chest to create some healthy distance between us.

I can’t let his words get to me. If I do, I’ll let him in and if I let him in, I’ll be the one getting hurt in the end. But it’s like pushing against a wall. He doesn’t move. At least, not his feet.

His hands skim over my hips and around the curve of my ass. A gasp leaves me as he squeezes, pulling our bodies closer together. If he’s trying to make me relax, he’s doing it wrong. I’m wound tight, my chest beating wild.

Close. We’re so close.

“I changed my mind,” he whispers, his lips hover inches from mine.

“About what?” I breathe, too focused on his body against mine. His hard to my soft. The dark of his suit to the white of my dress.

We’re opposites who shouldn’t fit, but with our bodies this close it feels like we’re a perfect match. Puzzle pieces made to go together.

“About how we act tonight.” The stubble of his beard scratches my cheek as he moves to whisper in my ear. “I want you like this. Next to me. My hands on you. The entire time.”

“But the contract,” I protest weakly as his other hand moves behind my back, locking me to his chiseled chest. The flimsy excuse to protect me and my soft heart.

“Fuck the…” Noah’s voice trails off as his hands tighten.

“You don’t get to hog her the entire night, Kincaid,” a voice says from behind me.

Thea le Veck.

I know without turning around. She sounds the same as she did when we were lab partners in tenth grade.

Noah cuts her a sharp look as I turn around. Unlike most people who’d buckle under the weight of Noah’s stare, Thea ignores him, smiling at me. It’s a warmer greeting than I expected. I haven’t talked to her since prep school.

She hasn’t changed appearance-wise, either. Her dark brown skin is flawless and her hair still wild and big with voluminous tight curls that bounce when she moves.

I find myself smiling back, it growing wider when Noah makes a sound behind me.

He’s not thrilled.

“What’re you doing here, Thea?” he asks.

“Please, as if I wouldn’t be here.” She rolls her eyes before focusing back on me. “So. Sayer. Welcome home.”

My smile falters a little.

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