Page 34 of Beauty and the Cop
I wanted my dress on the floor and his hands on my body.
Why didn't I open my mouth and tell him that?
God, I'm such an idiot.
"What am I doing?" I groan as the door closes with a quietclickbehind me. I squeeze my eyes closed, hoping utter darkness will bring a moment of clarity or sanity, but it doesn't.
Blood rushes through my veins too wildly to be slowed, desire pulsing through me with all the force of a battering ram. I want him. Hell, I've wanted him since he knocked on my door the very first time.
What woman wouldn't want him? He's pure sex on legs, with a devilish smile and the kind of dedication that forges dynasties.
So why the hell am I standing here while he's going home, probably thinking he did something wrong?
He didn't. God, he did absolutely everything right.
Christ, you're beautiful, Elsie.
The look in his eye when that fierce whisper tumbled from his lips…no one has ever looked at me with such untamed need before. That look stripped me bare, and somehow made me feel safe and seen at the same damn time.
So why the hell am I standing here now?
Because I'm a coward, that's why. A big, fat coward. Because… because the thought of telling him that I'm in love with him and not hearing him say it back feels a little like a wrecking ball going to work inside me.
But the way he looked at me tonight. The way he said those words, as if not saying them was torturing him…
I spin around, ripping the door open.
"Noa—" His name dies on my lips when I catch sight of him standing on the porch, one hand clutched in his hair like he's ready to rip it out by the roots.
He's breathing like he just ran the block twice in the ninety seconds I've been debating with myself.
"Noa–"
"I didn't mean it the way it came out."
He didn't mean it.
The devastation is immediate and crushing, mangling my heart. Tears spring to my eyes. I suck in a breath to fight them back.
"It's fine," I mumble.
"Elsie—" His face falls. "Elsie, I—"
Here it comes,I think, the thought drenched in bitterness. The "you're a great friend, but" speech. I don't want to stand here and listen to it, not from him. Not tonight.
"It's fine," I say again, trying to muster up a smile or a laugh. So he called me beautiful and said he watches me. So what? Doesn't mean he's head over heels for me. "You don't owe me an explanation. We can just be friends." I turn toward the door, ready to flee before he sees the tears and realizes that I'm lying my ass off. We can't be just friends. I won't survive it.
"Fuck that. We're not friends," he growls.
I spin toward him again, hope and devastation crashing together in the center of my chest. "Wha—?"
"I've been falling in love with you for four fucking weeks, Dimples," he whispers, his voice as ragged as it was back in the restaurant. The wrecked, haunted expression on his face burns through me. "Tell me you don't feel the same way. Tell me that you feel nothing for me, and I swear I'll drop this if that's what you want. But I didn't just say any of that to get you to sleep with me tonight. Just…tell me you don't feel the same way. Please."
Oh, dear Lord.
My heart flips in my chest, relief filling my lungs so full they feel like they're going to burst. Or maybe that's my heart threatening to explode with happiness.
Noah Kirk is in love with me.
