Page 87 of Splintered Hearts

“Didn’t sleep well?”

Actually, I slept amazingly. Noah’s arms were a weighted blanket. They tethered me. It’s inevitable, though. Noah will be ripped away from me, either by his own doing or something bad will happen.

It will happen. It always does. “I slept fine. Just tired.”

Something sweeps over Noah’s face. “Well, take it easy today. If you aren’t into it, let me know. I’ll cancel.”

“No, it’s fine. Invite whoever you want. It’ll be... fun.”

“Aw. Maybe one day we’ll get to the point where you don’t look like you’re chewing glass when we have people over,” Noah teases, patting my cheek. “Okay, I’ll be home around five, then we can get ready. Seven okay? I’ll order pizza. My treat.”

“Okay.” Noah waves at me before disappearing again, and hearing the front door shut, I brace my hands against the counter.

I take a good hard look in the mirror. Most of the time I never really look at myself. It’s been years since I cared what the fuck I looked like—even longer since I cared about impressing someone.

Grabbing a bottle that says toner, I smell it. Slightly fruity. I have no idea what the fuck it does. Putting it back, I use Noah’s face wash. Then I grab the moisturizer, liking the way it makes my skin feel.

Standing straight, I try hard not to let the insecurity nestle into my skin. It’s hard, though. Before everything, I wanted tattoos all over my body, but even if I wanted them now, it would be nearly impossible. Not completely impossible, but painful and ugly. It wouldn’t look right at all.

Scraping the rough pads of my fingers against my sensitive skin, I shiver. The memory of Noah’s hands on me... fuck, he doesn’t even shy away from the worst of them. Even puts his lips on them. Noah looks at me like... like he likes what he’s seeing.

Looking at my stomach, I’m not out of shape, but I am a little soft, whereas Noah is all hard lines and sculpted curves.

I run my hands through my hair—there isn’t much to be done with it. Bri comes over once a month to cut it, but I shave the sides myself. It’s how I like it—short, low maintenance, and out of the way.

However . . .

Looking down, I pull my sweats out a little.

Okay, I could do something about that. No one has seen me naked in years, and yeah, I just stopped caring completely. Looking through my cabinet, I find the clippers and plug them in before stepping out of my sweats. Noah doesn’t seem to mind, but seeing him naked, seeing how well he maintains his body—well, I want a little bit of that.

After I’m done, I clean up the mess before showering. Another line of bottles doing fuck knows what line the shelf. How much shit does one person need? Grabbing a black bottle, I read it. “What the fuck is groin wash?” I smell it.

My dick hardens instantly.Fuck.That smell. The same one I inhaled, nosing along Noah’s balls. Warm, like vanilla. So damn delicious. Squirting some in my hand, I wash myself.

When I’m finished, I towel dry my hair before slinging the towel around my waist, and reaching for my phone, I hesitate... but I need help.

I let the phone ring until Xavi picks up. “The fuck you want?”

“I need to talk to Bri.”

“No.”

“Give it!” I hear Xavier cry out before I hear her. “Hello, sunshine.”

“I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you help me with something.”

“Baby doll, when I said if you ever need help hiding a body, I was just kidding.”

“If I send you some money, can you go down to the store on Erie and pick me out some clothes? I’ll send you my sizes.”

“Are you asking me to dress you?” Maybe this is a bad idea. “How much are you sending me? What’s our budget?”

“Um—”

“Don’t be cheap, Jamie!”

“I just want—”

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