Page 8 of Losing Forever
I snort and stand, using my foot to push the barstool under the counter. “I don't need help from a voodoo therapist.” With a final chug, I finish my coffee and join Noah at the sink.
“It's not voodoo. That was my dad messing around. You know how he is.” He takes the mug from my hand and shoves me away with his elbow. “Get out of here. We're leaving in fifteen minutes sharp.”
“Yes, sir. Boss.” I salute him.
“Asshole.”
I smirk and take the stairs two at a time to the third floor to get my laptop. As soon as I reach my room, I remember I left it on the table by the front door. I’m halfway down the stairs when a beauty walks in through the sliding glass doors. Awestruck, I freeze on the middle landing, hidden in the shadow, unable to do more than stare.Who is she and what is she doing here?
She can’t be Noah’s cousin. When he was talking about her, I pictured a gimpy girl with thick-ass glasses, a disfigured face, a hunched back because that makes sense, and a wheelchair because that makes even more sense. I also pictured her wearing rainbow clothes that didn't match. I’m creative like that.
This girl is far from that image. She's thin, a little too slender for my usual taste, and her skin is fair. I've always had a thing for bronze skin and blonde hair. The beauty in the family room is the opposite.
Dark, wavy hair cascades down her pale arms. Her chest is a decent size. She’s a good height. Not too tall but above average. Five seven, maybe. And those legs seem to go on for days. I like that. A lot. They're toned and covered in creamy skin that looks as soft as silk.
Her tank top hugs her slim frame and her skirt hits a few inches above her knees. If a breeze caught the hem, the light material would blow right up.
I glance outside. The leaves on the palm trees hang limp.Damn.
My gaze darts back to the girl, eager to take in her face. The way her hair falls over her profile makes it hard for me to see her features. Is she pretty? I can't imagine her face isn't as pleasing as the rest of her.
She strolls to the dining room table. I’m thankful for the railing at the bottom half of the stairs or I would have lost sight of her. With her back to me, she rummages through a laptop bag while making small talk with Noah. I'm not listening to their conversation, too caught up in her to care. Her movements are graceful, or maybe careful is a better word. Nothing about her is hurried.
If only she’d turn a little to the left, I could see her face. She bends more as she digs through her bag. Those gorgeous waves fall forward, blocking her even more.Dammit.
Noah has been a tits and ass guy for as long as I can remember. I fall under the legs and ass category, but I've always had a thing for hair. Long strands that are soft when I run my fingers through to the ends, right before I take a girl from behind.
My dick twitches at the thought. The last thing I need is a stiffy on my first day of work. Not that Noah would care. He'd use it to his humorous advantage, but not if my stiffy is directed at his cousin.No way that is her. No way.She must be Noah’s friend or maybe his girlfriend, which would suck for me.
Instead of feasting my eyes on the current object of my dick's affection, I force myself up the stairs and hurry to my room to calm the fuck down.
I've never been this hard up for a girl. But then, I've never gone without sex for four weeks. Ever since Taryn broke up with me two months ago, I've been too busy dealing with the media, my uncle, and my fucked-up life to go out and get some.
Now that I'm here and less stressed, I need to make that a priority. Hell, after work I can head to a beach bar and take home a hot sun goddess.
Noah won't care, but I'm not sure about his cousin. I'll have to check with him to make sure it's okay. If not, I'll have to talk my way into said goddess’s panties at her place.
I brush my teeth to get rid of my coffee breath, just in case I meet a hot little number on the way to work, or at work. I’m not picky.
A surge of excitement takes me by surprise. I'm going to work, my first real job, with my best friend, wearing my casual best—per company dress code—and I won't need to spend a dime of the tainted money in my bank account. I don't even know how much is in there. I refuse to find out. I do, however, need to know my job title. And duties.
When Noah hired me, he said, “We'll figure it out when you start.”
I race downstairs to the second floor. Silence greets me. “Noah?”
No response.
I get out my phone to text him, and get one from him instead.
I’m downstairs, cooling off the car. You riding with us?
Yeah. Be right down,I reply.
Running water sounds from inside the nearby bathroom.
When the door opens, I turn and come face-to-face with the brunette I saw earlier. Her strawberry scent hits me like a breath of fresh air. She glances up from under long black lashes and reveals the lightest blue eyes. They widen for a second. From shock? Fear?
I hope not because I know those eyes, have only ever seen them once before on a young girl who rocked my world.
