Page 72 of The Workaholic Down the Hall

She hesitated, leaning back into the couch like she was trying to maintain that distance between us, trying to remember why she didn't trust me.

“It's for Sophie,” I said. “I think it will be fun for her.”

Her hesitation turned to a blank expression and a tight-lipped smile. “You can dance with her alone, you don't need me.”

I sighed. Why did this woman have to be so difficult? What was it going to take to convince her to let me love her? “I need you. We both need you, Aubrey, and we both want you to dance with us.”

I expected her to make some excuse about needing to go to bed, but she nodded and stood. “Okay. Let's give it a try.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Aubrey

I lay in bed, listening to the soft breathing from the tiny bed next to mine, and stared at the dark ceiling. I stared at the ceiling, but what I was seeing was Noah's warm smile and the curve of his bicep and his fingers woven through mine. I could still feel his warm breath on my neck as he held me and danced with me, the way his words whispered against my skin as he sang along to the Christmas songs. I was an idiot for agreeing to dance with him and an even bigger idiot for not putting a stop to it as soon as I realized how good it felt to be held by him, how much I loved the way he smiled at Sophie and included her in our dance.

I'd kept dancing with him, because I was tired of fighting against hope. I was tired of maintaining a distance I despised. Except now I was lying in bed and fighting the urge to go to him, to crawl into his bed and give in. To just let him hold me. He'd been there every day, he'd shown me in every way possible that he was serious about sticking around, and I felt like the meanest woman in the world for not accepting what he was offering. If it weren't for Sophie, I'd believe him, but Sophie complicated things. He wasn't just trying to win me over because he wanted me, he was trying to win me over because he wanted this idea of a family, or maybe he just wanted to do the right thing by me and Sophie.

I flung myself onto my side and huffed out an annoyed sigh. Was I being too careful? Was I destroying the possibility of something great between me and Noah? Did it matter if he was only there for Sophie if the end result was that he loved us both? I knew real life wasn't a fairy tale. Maybe it should be enough that Noah was there, maybe it should be enough that he was attracted to me and could possibly grow to love me. But it wasn't enough. I was still that little girl who'd lost her parents and just wanted to be wanted, wanted to be loved with an overwhelming, unconditional kind of love. When I was a kid, it had been a child's desire for love, but as I'd gotten older, it'd evolved into an adult's desire for romance, for the kind of love that swept me up and made me forget I'd ever been alone.

I flipped again and sighed again. I was being an idiot. Noah was everything I wanted. So what if he'd had to be convinced to want me, too? What mattered was that he was offering himself to me and Sophie, that he wanted to be there for us. What mattered was that his arms were warm and he wanted me. He might not love me, but I knew he wanted me, that he could put out the flame of desire that dancing with him had ignited.

I rolled onto my belly and huffed. It might be wonderful to have Noah, to make a family with him, until he woke up one day and realized he wanted a woman he loved desperately, not one he'd accidentally knocked up, who he'd sacrificed his career and his life in Atlanta for. I couldn't do that to him, I wouldn't.

I flipped onto my back and stared at the ceiling for several more long minutes before I accepted sleep wasn't going to come. I got out of bed, slipped my feet into slippers and tiptoed downstairs. I'd just have some of that chamomile tea Noah had given me and hope it was strong enough to fight against my overactive brain and libido. I stepped into the kitchen and over to the stove, focused on the tea pot and the basket of tea bags next to it.

“Couldn't sleep?”

I started and slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my scream. I spun to see Noah seated at the dining room table. “What are you doing up?”

“I'm watching the snow fall,” he said.

I stepped over to stand next to his chair and looked out the window. The moon was full and bright, reflecting off the snow-covered ground and the fat flakes that drifted slowly to earth. It was gorgeous and peaceful. I stood and watched, transfixed.

“Want me to make you some tea?” Noah asked. He pushed his chair back and stood, suddenly so close that we were practically touching, his hard chest centimeters from my nose.

“No, I got it.” But I didn't move. I couldn't have moved from that spot if I'd wanted to. I tilted my head to look up at him, my whole body thrumming with desire. Desire and the need to let go of my worry and over-thinking. He met my gaze, his blue eyes dark, and his big hands wrapped around my waist like he was as drawn to me as I was to him.

“Aubrey,” he said, his voice husky.

And something in me snapped. I'd been fighting so hard and I just couldn't fight anymore. I popped up onto my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. For a moment, he didn't move. He was solid marble, cold and immobile. Then he tightened his grip around my waist, lifted me and put me away from him. “I can't do this,” he said. “Not until we talk—”

“I'm tired of talking. I want you. Tonight.”

“And tomorrow we go back to pretending to be friends? To denying this pull between us?”

“Yes,” I said. “No.” I shook my head. “I don't know. I don't want you to be here out of some misdirected sense of obligation. You deserve to be free to live your own life, not tied down—”

He grabbed my waist and yanked me tight against him. Tight enough that I could feel his hardness against me. “Does that feel like I don't want you? Does that feel like obligation?”

“No, but…”

“I'll be here, Aubrey. Every day. Until I convince you this is where I want to be more than anywhere else in the world. I'll be here every night, until you believe your body is the only one I want and inside you is my favorite place to be.”

I dissolved against him in a mess of lust and wanton desire. He squeezed my waist with one hand and gripped my chin with the other. “Tell me you believe me.”

“I believe you.” I didn't recognize my own voice it was so husky and raw. I had no choice but to believe him, I didn't have any fight left in me to deny him. And I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. Happiness swelled and whispered through me and I couldn't stop the smile that followed.

He growled and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me with a voraciousness that had me pressing myself against him, so desperate for him I could scream. He anchored me in place, holding me still while he kissed my mouth and then my chin and my neck, taking his time to press his lips to every part of me he could reach.

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