Page 104 of Under the Lies

He puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. And despite myself, I melt into him. I tell myself it’s because I want to steal his body heat and not because when I woke I was craving this very thing.

Noah. His arms around me.

“I thought we could go out to eat,” Noah says, walking us down the sidewalk. I feel the eyes of some people watching us as we go and it’s the only thing that makes me want to pull away. I don’t want this to be a spectacle. I don’t want to be a prop on display.

But I stay tucked under Noah’s arm. For the extra warmth.

And because I’m hungry.

As if on cue my stomach rumbles.

Noah chuckles in response.

“Where are we going?” I ask when we reach his car, the sleek black sports car that’s still idling in a no park zone. “Not worried about someone stealing your car?”

He gives me a look from over the hood before popping his door open, disappearing from view.

Right, of course. No one would dare take his car. How silly of me to ask.

I open the passenger door and slide in, thankful for seat warmers.

It’s not until we’re pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road that Noah answers my first question. “I was thinking Thai.”

My favorite.

When I don’t respond, Noah spares me a quick glance, only to smirk at the surprised expression on my face.

“I like it.”

“Like what?” I study his profile. Strong and profound, I’ll never get over how he’s like a flesh and bone statue.

“Surprising you.” That smirk grows, pulling at his cheek and crinkling the corner of his eye.

“I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

“I like surprising you, Sayer.” He shoots me another quick glance. “The way your lips part and how a crease appears between your eyebrows. It reminds me of the face you make when I’m inside you.”

I feel my cheeks twinge in color, shifting in my seat. Knowing he studies me as much as I study him has my stomach doing flips.

A quip is set on my tongue when a chime from Noah’s phone stops me as a sharp curse brushes his lips at the sound.

“What?” he growls in answer, the device held in a tight grip against his ear.

I strain to hear what’s being said on the other line, but Noah is the only person who has his volume turned deathly low. It doesn’t help that he’s only answering in nonverbal sounds.

A grunt here, a growl there. Slamming on his brakes so fast that the seatbelt digs into my throat.

It’s only when the call is over and he’s throwing his phone up on the dash that he speaks again. Low and pissed. “I’m taking you home.”

“What? Why?!” I should be embarrassed by how panicked I sound over it. For allowing him to see a weakness. “What about food?”

I don’t really care about the food. I care about what that phone call was about. What flipped his mood so fast.

“There’s been a change of plans.”

When he doesn’t elaborate further, I poke his arm. Hard. “Which is…?”

“An alert from one of your sister’s old hangouts.”

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