Page 1 of Saving Noah

Chapter 1

The dull thump of music crept through the thick walls of his neighbor’s penthouse apartment, irritating him to the point he punched in the incorrect code to open his door. He’d only lived in this tower for three months, but he’d already learned the curious and annoying schedule of the only other top floor resident. Loud music, erotic costumes, and a different group of lovers every second and last Friday of the month.

When the electronic lock buzzed a warning to indicate he’d entered the incorrect code, his best friend barked out a laugh. Connor being there to laugh at him didn’t help the situation one damned bit. The bastard knew how much his younger neighbor pissed him off and was clearly enjoying witnessing it firsthand.

Zach had lived in his new apartment for exactly ninety-three days and had complained to Connor all ninety-three days about Neighbor Boy. Hell, the thing was, Connor hadn’t heard the half of it. He’d only complained about the loud music and irritating way the kid wasalwaysat home. He’d yet to mention the fact that he was fairly certain the guy was a prostitute of some sort.

Neighbor Boy rocked the kind of sexy appearance that could make a straight man untuck his wallet and smack down some of his hard-earned cash to see those plump lips wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck!” He hissed in frustration as the image of those lips wrapped around his own cock caused him to fumble with the code yet again. “Damned music,” he muttered, unsure if the lie was for Connor’s benefit or his. No, the lie was solely for Connor’s benefit. As far as his friend understood, Zachary hated his new neighbor because of the wild parties…not because just looking at the guy made him forget his ABCs and 123s. If Connor had any hint of the beauty residing on the other side of the heavy iron door, he would know exactly why Zachary bitched from daylight to dark to anybody who would listen to him as he complained about the one and only offensive thing about his new penthouse suite. Yeah, his lifelong goal was to never allow Connor to meet John face-to-face.

The guy told him his name was John. Mr. Hottie Hot Pants didn’t look like a John, but Zachary assumed the kid knew his own name, even if he didn’t know turning tricks was against the law and extremely dangerous.

“Problems, Doctor?” Connor asked with one of his annoying smirks. “Here, let me hold the pizza so you can focus all your intellect on punching in the seven-digit code you’re struggling so diligently with. I hope to fuck you aren’t the doctor on duty at the hospital if I’m ever injured in the line of duty.” He leaned against the wall. “I mean, seriously, Zach, the music isn’t that loud. To hear you tell it, I would’ve estimated having to have you fitted for a hearing aid sometime in the next two weeks. Jeezus, man; I used to answer 911 calls where pictures on the walls were rattling six doors down in a neighborhood instead of a top floor uppity penthouse suite.” He shook his head. “I think somebody is just old and crotchety.”

Connor tugged the delicious-smelling pizza out of his hands about the same time the bane of Zach’s existence started unbolting the locking mechanism on his door.Shit. Shit. Shit. He didn’t want Connor seeing what he was about to see. Connor was about to learn exactly why Zachary did indeed feel old and crotchety since moving in, and it didn’t have one damned thing to do with loud music or sex parties…that Zach had never once been invited to.

His finger trembled with nervous embarrassment as he hit the last digit and heard the blessed sound of the locking mechanism indicating he’d finally entered the proper code. He grabbed Connor’s upper arm and tried to push him through the door at the same time he was shoving it open.

But, of course, he wouldn’t dare get so lucky. Not him. No sirree. Luck wasn’t his friend tonight.

The music’s clarity increased then became muffled again, warning him his neighbor’s door had opened and closed. Hell, who was he fooling? He hadn’t needed the musical warning to alert him that John had stepped out into the hallway. Every fucking nerve in his traitorous body went on high alert, especially the really big one between his legs.

Defeated, he dropped his head and tried to wish himself somewhere far, far away, but Connor’s soft whistle told him he remained stuck straight in I-lust-after-my-hot-prostitute-neighbor land. Party for fucking three since Connor was right there with him. One glance in his friend’s direction told him he was fucked seven ways to Sunday. He absolutely refused to look in John’s way.

“Hey, neighbor.” John’s sexy voice filled the hallway.

That was what John called him since Zachary refused to tell him his name, even though John had politely tried to pry the information from him. The low, sexy voice tickled Zachary in places that hadn’t been tickled in…well, forever. He hadn’t encountered another person who got under his skin like this kid did. To top it off, they couldn’t have exchanged more than twenty words to each other. He also had to admit he’d been horrifically rude with every word, one through twenty. Stopping the rudeness seemed implausible as well. It infuriated Zachary to see someone so young and beautiful live their life so dangerously. He was a prostitute; Zachary was convinced of it.

“Hey, John,” he mumbled without even looking over his shoulder. All it would take would be one glance and he’d be lost in those bright blue eyes and pouty lips. Eyes straight ahead. He could do this. “Get inside, Connor. The pizza’s getting cold.” He tried muscling Connor through the door, but his friend stood strong, feet glued to the floor and eyes glued to the man standing across the hallway.

A knowing smile curved Connor’s lips. “The pizza may get cold, but it sure as hell is hot out here.” He stepped away from Zachary’s door and straight toward John. “Well, hello, there,” Connor’s voice teased playfully. “I can’t believe Zachary has never once mentioned that his neighbor modeled. Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

Zachary rolled his eyes, counted to ten, and then slowly turned around to face what he lusted and longed for at night in his lonely bedroom, knowing the object of his desire was on the other side of the wall…fucking a different man, or men, every other fucking Friday. Fucking Fridays. That was what he’d labeled them in his warped mind. He should’ve known better than to let Connor invite himself over tonight of all nights.

Don’t look into his eyes. Just walk into your apartment, close the door, and leave Connor to flirt his fool head off. Ha! Wouldn’t it be hilarious if John propositioned Connor, a cop, for sex? Yeah, that’d serve them both right.

Regardless of the warnings blaring inside his head, Zachary allowed his eyes to stray in John’s direction. He shouldn’t have done it. It was even worse than he could’ve ever imagined, and he’d imagined a lot ofbadthings where his younger neighbor was concerned. Connor was positioned on the other side of John and was propped up against the wall, eye-fucking John one minute and laughing at Zachary the next. Zach’s beloved pizza was tucked beneath Connor’s armpit.

All the times he’d accidentally run into his neighbor the past three months, John had been wearing workout clothes, because he’d been in the building’s gym, coming home from the gym, or going to the gym. John, even in slouchy gym clothes that looked at least one size too big, was almost too much for Zachary to handle. John wearing one of the erotic costumes Zach had seen many of the frequent guests dressed in was damned well going to be more than his thirty-year-old heart could handle. He stood there, mouth wide open, and gawked at John.

Tonight, on Fucking Friday, John wore a pair of skin-tight black leather pants cut low enough to perfectly frame the most fucking sexy V and washboard abs Zachary’s eyes had ever lusted after. He was a doctor; he’d seen a lot of nakedness. Nothing came close to what this kid looked like without a shirt on. His torso was lean yet defined with lithe muscles that could only be described as a work of art. Sheer perfection. His pale skin was flawless except for the tattoo of a strand of rosary beads that dipped almost as low as the leather pants—something pure decorating something so obviously impure. Zachary couldn’t help himself; the dark tattoo on the pale skin literally made his mouth water and his cock leak. John’s inky black hair looked mussed, like he’d already engaged in at least one bout of reckless fucking. Zachary’s fingers itched to test the silkiness, to prove that it couldn’t possibly feel as soft as it looked. Heavy black eyeliner highlighted John’s azure blue eyes, making him appear seductively haunted. To top off the magnificence of six feet of perfection, a thick diamond collar wrapped snugly around his slim neck.

Connor’s hearty laugh snapped him from his blatant ogling, and Zachary’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. More than he wanted his next breath of air, he wished he still held that damned pizza box so he could hide the bulge growing in his pants. But Connor had it trapped under his arm and turned on its side, clearly forgotten as he focused on Zach’s neighbor.

“Stop acting like a fool, Connor,” he finally snapped. “He’s a child.” Oh, good Lord, what a ridiculous statement. John wasn’t a child; if he were being honest with himself, he’d have to admit he didn’t like Connor looking at or flirting with John.

John’s blue eyes narrowed following Zachary’s comment, the first real burst of emotion Zachary had seen from him. John was always polite and had shyly tried to engage him in conversation a couple of times, but in most of their encounters, John kept his head down and he focused on the floor in front of him. It was a strange trait for a hooker, but from all the men he saw going in and out of that apartment, people bought what John was selling.

After another flash of annoyance directed toward Zachary, John turned away and gave Connor his full attention. “Hey. I’m John. Twenty-two-year-old adult extraordinaire,” he said as he offered Connor his hand to shake.

Connor’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he eagerly shook John’s hand. “Connor Vanderwall. Thirty-year-old pretender of adulthood.”

Connor didn’t let go of John’s hand at anywhere near the appropriate hand-shaking time limit…in Zachary’s opinion. Then again, from the looks of the two men in front of him, neither of them gave a fuck about his opinion. With John’s back turned to him as his hand stayed imprisoned in Connor’s grasp, Zachary had an unrestricted view of his neighbor’s bare back. Like his chest, it was perfectly proportioned with just the right amount of lean muscle. A pair of black angel wings, with delicate feathers appearing so real Zachary longed to touch them, covered his slim back.

Lust burned through Zachary, making him want things he had no business wanting. John was a fucking prostitute, not potential dating material for a doctor. Hell, maybe he should just purchase a night of mischief and be done with it. Once he’d gotten a taste of what was sold on Fucking Fridays, he’d be finished with his ridiculous infatuation with his neighbor. Yeah, that was it; he’d ask what he charged for a ‘trick,’ tally up the funds, fuck him silly, and be finished. Zachary’s eyes strayed to the luscious curve of John’s bubble ass that was barely tucked into the black leather. No, it might take more than one hit before he could quit.

What. The. Fuck. He wasn’t going to proposition a hooker, for fuck’s sake. Frustrated anger rolled through him. The fact that Connor still gripped John’s hand did nothing to soothe the dangerous mood threatening to overtake him.

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