Page 81 of Under the Lies

Pressing my chest against his back, I bring my lips to the shell of his ear. “Noah,” I whisper softly, “Please stop.”

Dropping his hold on Dickie, who collapses to the ground in a boneless heap, I feel Noah’s body shift against mine and I squeeze him tight.

“Enough, Noah,” I whisper in his ear, hoping I can soothe this raging storm. “I’m okay. I’m here. With you.”

That seems to reach him.

Noah grabs my ankles that are locked around his waist, and he squeezes them. Not painfully, not gently. Reassuringly.

“Get him out of here,” Noah orders, voice rough. “Before I do what I really want to.”

Reeve and Gabe appear, flanking either side of Dickie and drag his limp body to the elevator where they unceremoniously throw him in.

As soon as the doors to the elevator closes, the music turns back on and the people disperse. Almost like the past five minutes never happened and they’re back to on their journeys of not remembering tomorrow.

I try to shimmy down Noah’s back, but he locks his hands around my legs.

“Noah.” I tap his shoulder. “I’m ready to get down now.”

“Too damn bad.”

“Seriously, Noah. Put me down.” I try to wiggle, only for friction to grow between my legs, feeling his muscled body against mine. Suddenly, I don’t mind being wrapped around him.

Until he opens his mouth.

“Hey, Sayer? Stop talking.”

Rude. Always so rude.

Normally, I wouldn’t, especially not when he barks it at me like an order, but there’s something in his tone that makes me heed his advice. So, my lips are sealed…for now.

Noah might fight with his fists, but I use my words, and I have a whole lot to say for him abandoning me in his cold, dark home all without a simple text explaining why.

Fused to his back, Noah walks across the apartment to a little door tucked beside his kitchen.

It leads into the laundry room, which quietly shuts behind us, cutting off the light and encasing us in darkness.

But before the door can shut completely, as Noah pulls me off his body and sets me on the washer, the metal cool against my thighs, I get a look at his face.

Wild eyes and a stone jaw, he’s still wired from the fight. And with Dickie gone, Noah’s changed his focus, shifting to another target.

Me.

And I welcome it with two words. Bring. It.

He wants a fight. He’s going to get one.

I sharpened my claws just for the occasion. After all, this is why I agreed to the party.

I’d rather fight with Noah than have him ignore me. At least when we fight, I know he sees me.

How messed up is that?

“What were you thinking?” he growls in my ear, the timbre as rough as tree bark. It grates against my skin, raising my defenses.

“Excuse me?” I force out, unsure what he’s implying. “I wasn’t doing anything. Dickie was—”

“Not that.” Noah cuts me off, pulling my knees apart and settles between my thighs. Bringing us closer.

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