Page 38 of Lovers in Lockdown

Whatever attraction she had for me three weeks ago is still there. Still festering. Still drawing her to me like a paintbrush to a clean canvas.

And like she can hear my thoughts, a noise from the bathroom has my head snapping in its direction, confirming my theory.

A gasp.

A quiet moan.

And then another one. And another.

Holy fuck.

My dick jumps in response to the sounds, to the recognition of what they mean, to the memory of the last time I heard those breathy moans, when she was writhing on the kitchen island, her hips gyrating, her body thrashing as I thrusted my tongue inside of her.

A grin of pre-emptive victory tugs at the corners of my lips.

She can ignore me all she wants. She can hide away in her room and pretend that I don’t affect her, but if her guilty little secret and not-so-quiet private time in the shower tells me anything, it’s that she can run, but she sure as shit can’t hide.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Honey

I collapse against the shower door, my heart pounding and legs shaking as I wait to come down from my high.

Eurgh, what’s wrong with me?

For weeks I’ve tried to curb my attraction to Noah, tried to cure it like a disease, and yet nothing has worked to get that stupidly handsome asshole out of my head.

I thought that hiding away in the bedroom for the better part of three weeks would purge out the memory of what he did to me. But it didn’t.

If anything, it made it worse.

Two and a half weeks of near silence and solitude has made it very difficult to think of anything other than the feel of his hot, wet mouth exploring my most private place. The way he spread me apart and lapped at me like he hadn’t eaten in months.

Gah,and now here I am, waiting for my post-orgasm glow to fade after wanking one out to the memory of his eyes locking on mine as he made me explode on his tongue, and all because I saw the outline of his abs under his t-shirt.

I need to get a fucking grip.

The shower water runs cold and I shut off the faucet, grabbing my towel off the bathroom floor and lazily towel drying my hair. Having naturally straight hair is a godsend on days like this, when I can’t even be bothered to brush it, let alone blow-dry and style it.

Taking a deep breath, I psyche myself up to leave the safe confines of the bathroom, my heart already beating double time at the thought of having to talk to Noah, even if just for a few seconds.

Clearly, even the briefest of exchanges has me turning to horny gloop, despite how odd and suspicious he behaves. My body only cares about one thing, apparently. Those eight hard hills and valleys hiding underneath his clothes.

But cabin fever has clearly sunk its claws into Noah, if his bizarre behaviour is anything to go by. Can’t blame him, though. Being stuck inside the apartment all day with only an hour to go out and exercise feels like I’m being punished for a crime I didn’t commit.

Unless you can count my vagina going rogue and disobeying my brain’s orders toforget all about that giant hunk and pretend that he doesn’t existas illegal behaviour.

I certainly do anyway.

The traitorous bitch.

Noah isn’t lurking in the hallway like he was before my shower when I finally emerge from the bathroom, a relief, I must say, because that really would have freaked me out, but a quick glance around the apartment and my eyes land on him standing at the far end of the living room, staring straight at me.

His expression makes my breath catch.

His eyes are blazing, hooded and hot, and if he was standing closer to me, I swear I’d be able to see flames burning in his irises.

My breathing quickens. It comes short and shallow. The air between us crackles with that ever present electric current and his gaze is so intense, I wouldn’t be surprised if he scalded a hole in the towel that’s draped around my otherwise naked body.

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