Page 54 of Defend Me

He doesn’t see me, his eyes focused on the stove and the timer still beeping away.

“Noah,” I say, shocked my voice isn’t hoarse but strong and powerful.

Noah shrieks anddrops the towel.

Oh god. I catch the briefest glimpse of a pair of strong thighs covered in dark hair, and a large, long shaft hanging between—no, I tell myself, whirling around, my cheeks on fire, my heart racing.

“Von!” Noah cries.

“Sorry!” I squeak as I hear Noah scamper from the room, then the door to his bedroom shuts.

My head spins and my legs feel numb and tingly. I can’t shake the image of all that taut muscle, that smooth wet skin, of Noah’s enormous—no, no, no, I will not think about that. I go through my trusty reasons. He’s my client. He’s my brother’s best friend. He has agirlfriend.

Okay, Von, I tell myself. Compartmentalize. Shut it down. Put that image in a box.

I take a few deep breaths and hear the bedroom door open. I scramble to look cool and collected, perching on the edge of one the armchairs and pretending to be very busy on my phone.

“Hi,” Noah says, and his voice sends a thousand shivers scuttling down my spine. I refuse to look up.

“Hi,” I say.

“Sorry about that,” he says with an embarrassed chuckle. I can imagine him, running a hand through his hair, his mouth curving shyly.

I can’t keep staring at my phone like this. If anything, it makes me look guilty.

“It’s fine,” I say. My voice sounds weird. Tight and breathy at the same time.

“Von.”

“Mm?”

“I’m wearing clothes now.” There’s the faintest trace of teasing in his voice but also something else—nerves, maybe?

I surreptitiously take a steadying breath and look up. He’s wearing his usual tee and jeans combo. His feet are bare, his hair still mussed. Every one of my nerve endings is raw and aching.

“I’m making lamb for dinner,” he says, silencing the timer and pulling the pan out of the oven. He frowns at it—I know he’s worried by the dent that forms between his eyebrows—then smiles with relief. God, when did his smile become the best part of my day? When did I learn the minutiae of his facial expressions? “It’s not overdone,” he says, looking up at me.

“Okay. Good. Great.” I finally wrench myself out of my uncomfortable perch. My heart pitter-patters wildly but I keep my expression neutral. I’m good at this—hiding my emotions. “Do you mind if I change before we eat?”

I need a minute alone.

“Sure,” Noah says as I sweep past him and up the stairs to my room. I close the door and lean my head against it, pressing my eyes closed, the impression of Noah’s bare chest imprinted on the inside of my lids. Desire tickles the back of my throat, sweet and thick like molasses. I inhale sharply. I am stronger than these feelings. They don’tmeananything. It was shock, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting a naked Noah in my kitchen.

I wonder if he’s going to tell Charlotte about it. The thought makes my stomach dip.

I kick off my shoes and change into a pair of mauve slacks and an off-the-shoulder white cashmere blouse. I’ve started wearing more casual clothes around Noah since the rowboats. I release myhair from its sleek bun and run a brush through it, the sensation sending more prickles over my neck and shoulders. I have a brief thought of the way Noah’s hands might feel, sinking into my hair, massaging my scalp, his rough palm cupping the nape of my neck.

Get it together, I tell myself. I pull my hair back into a low pony, freshen my lipstick, give myself a parting glance in the mirror, then head back downstairs.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

NOAH

I’m glad Von went upstairs to change.

I need a second alone. My arms are trembling, my head light. I swear, there was a flash of something like hunger in Von’s eyes when my towel fell.

I keep my hands busy, prepping the plates, adding spinach and lamb and rice to them in automatic fashion, as my mind churns and my groin aches. These past few weeks with Von have been…well, surprisingly enjoyable. The feelings that started beneath the boughs of the weeping willow on that lake in Central Park have stubbornly refused to fade. If anything, they’ve sunk their roots deep, sprouting tendrils that have taken hold inside me.

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