Page 36 of Beauty and the Cop
"Yeah." I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I say to hell with it and let him strip me right here and give our neighbors a show. Old Mr. Thorne would keel over in horror.
It'd almost be worth it. Almost. But I kind of want to get laid tonight, not end up in jail.
"Inside, Dimples. Now," Noah barks.
Chapter Twelve
Noah
Ikick Elsie's frontdoor closed behind me, my heart pounding like I'm chasing a goddamn suspect through every alley and backyard in Chicago. I flip the deadbolt behind me, locking the door, my eyes never leaving her face. Part of me worries she'll vanish like smoke if I blink—or that I'll wake andrealize she never opened the door or called my name with that look in her eyes, as if she can't live without me.
I can't even think about how much I don't want this to be another dream. My cock actually hurts from how hard it is. If I don't kiss her again soon, I won't be responsible for my actions.
Now that I've tasted that sweet mouth and bitten that flawless skin, now that the truth is finally out there, hell itself won't be enough to stop me from putting my hands all over her, over and over again.
Need hums along every inch of my skin, settling deep into my bones. Desire shakes me to the fucking core, fogging my thoughts until all I can think about is Elsie, all I see is her. Her cheeks flush deep red, and her chest heaves as she sucks in breath after breath. Her eyes are wide and wild. Her lips, swollen from my kisses, part to form my name.
"Noah."
My heart skips a beat, then slams faster at the way she says it, as if she has to. As if she has to taste it on her lips.
She lifts a trembling hand toward me.
My cock jerks as I stare at her, memorizing her in this moment—hair tangled around her face, hand shaking as she reaches out. Her eyes beg me to touch her, to quiet the storm raging inside her.
I wrap my fingers around her wrist, light as a whisper.
Her shoulders slump into relief, and I haul her closer, until her breasts press against my chest and I can wrap my arms around her. She fits naturally, her body curling into mine like she belongs right here. Fuck, she does. This right here is precisely where she was made to fit.
I hold her for one perfect moment, my face buried in her hair, hers buried in my chest. It feels so fucking right.
Thank God I didn't blow it tonight. Those ninety seconds after she shut the door were pure hell, laced with panic.
All I could think was that I'd damaged us beyond repair by admitting just how obsessed I am. If she'd walked away—my anchor, my light—what the fuck was I going to do?
For ninety seconds, the idea of living across the street without being allowed in her life ripped me apart. I need her. She makes this whole fucking world tolerable, helps me forget the sting of seeing a kid drop in a hail of bullets. My job—my whole goddamn life—sucks less with her in it.
Without her, what the fuck would I do?
"Shh," she murmurs, squeezing me. "Shh. I'm not going anywhere."
Only then do I realize I've asked the question out loud, my arms shaking around her. That thought still wrecks me, despite her arms around me. I'm not stupid enough to pretend otherwise.
Elsie Cameron holds my heart in her palm—and by some miracle, she isn't saying no.
Thank you, God. Just…fucking thank you.
I tilt her face up and kiss her hard, pouring every ounce of gratitude and worship into that kiss. This beautiful, brilliant woman owns me, and I've never been more okay with anything. I'm beyond okay with it, actually. I'm fucking ecstatic.
"I want to make love to you," I whisper against her lips, then pull back to show her what words can't capture—the adoration, the need, and the worship blazing in my eyes.
"Yes," she says without hesitation, so damn brave.
I kiss her again, then step back. I kick off my shoes on the spot, my gaze never leaving hers, saying what I can't put into words: that I need her to piece me back together and stop the ache gnawing at my bones. That I need her to let me love her in a way I haven't been allowed yet.
As my socks and tie land by my shoes, her answer burns like green fire in her eyes. She wants me in every way I come to her tonight, and she won't regret it tomorrow.
"Yes," a primal part of me whispers. "She's mine."
