Page 54 of Cruel Proposal
I can't force myself to do anything other than stand there. I stand there until he comes back, and then everything I've been pushing down comes to the surface: the anger, the hurt, the frustration.
And I do what any sane person would.
I grab the nearest vase and launch it at his head. "Fuck you!"
He dodges, not sparing a glance as the ceramic collides with the wall and shatters. "Great, so I do something nice for you, and that's the kind of mood you're in?" His smirk grows wider. "You know I like you like this. Remind me to do nice things for you more often."
My chest rises and falls rapidly as I glare at him. "I don't know what you brought her here for, but you let her walk out of here like it was nothing, yet you're keeping me hostage? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Noah shrugs, striding past me and heading for the living room.
I follow him, not ready to be done with this yet.
He slumps onto the couch, head tilted against the back of the couch, his hand covering his eyes. His breaths are deep and slow, like he's trying to calm himself down for some reason or another.
I could slit his throat right now and be done with it. I could end this entire war with just one flick of the knife.
But I can't bring myself to do it. Not when he looks like he's falling apart at the seams.
Instead, I drop down onto the couch beside him, my thigh pressing against his. I swallow hard, leaning back, not sure what I'm doing.
The leather is soft, the cushions plush. It'd be perfect for a nap.
Noah says nothing, but his hand drops from his eyes.
I put my feet up on the wooden coffee table, crossing one leg over the other. "What the hell was all of that?"
His head turns, gaze meeting mine. "I'm tired of it all. Tired of the fucking war. Tired of people trying to kill me and having to kill people. I don't have a single person in my life I can trust, and everything about each one of my relationships is transactional and about as deep as a kiddie pool."
"I didn't think you'd be the type to care about that."
He snorts, a tiny bit of amusement shining in his eyes. "Didn't think you thought much of me to begin with, so that's not exactly shocking."
My fingers itch to land on his thigh and trace patterns on the denim. To help him see that he's not alone right now.
I don't know where the urge comes from, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's based on the fact that focusing on other people's emotions has always been easier than focusing on my own.
Noah kicks his feet up on the table beside mine. "I have other members of my family to worry about, ones who are intent on fucking my life over in some way or another, and they want to get their hands on what's mine."
His gaze pins me in place, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter to life.
There's something about the way he saysmine, as if he's not talking about the family. As if there's far more to it than that.
Almost as if he's talking about me. That I might be his.
And deep down, warmth pools inside me, as wrong as it might be.
"You know, when I have shit going on in my life, I like to go to the top of the Empire State Building to think." I swallow hard, trying to make sense of everything going on in my head, but I don't think it's possible.
He smirks, his eyes lighting up. "Maybe one day we should go there to think about things together. I promise not to throw you off."
My stomach bottoms out, the butterflies trying to escape. I lean into him a little, staring straight ahead at the black screen of the TV.
I don't know what to say or do right now. Everything feels like I'm on fire. Burning up. My skin is tingling.
It'd be too easy to climb into his lap right now and take what I need. Beg him for another orgasm. Lose every horrible feeling I've been having lately in the feeling of him buried deep inside me. He could lose all those things he's going through, too. We could forget together.
But then there's still the question of what happens when it's over.
