Page 25 of Under the Lies

I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to feel his lips move against mine. Is he as aggressive with a kiss as he is in business?

To have his body pressed against me without the barrier of clothes between us. Would he take control over me and render me to a drunken mess at his feet?

All these questions that will never find their answers.

I can’t do anything with Noah.

Not just because he dated my sister and Harlow is the definition of a possessive and vindictive ex-girlfriend.

He’d ruin me before I’d even realized it.

And I’m already broken enough. Lost with no destination in mind.

I haven’t forgotten his promise either.

I’m going to break you.

Break me how? Break the shell I’m hiding behind or break my hidden spirit?

I should probably be scared, I should probably already be running. I’m not. I won’t. I want to find out what he means.

I remember the hungry look in his eyes as I danced for him on the roof, how he fisted his hands at his sides as if that was enough restraint to keep him going after what he wanted.

Me.

I shift in my seat, squeezing my thighs together.

I’m in the middle of taking down notes of a painting when my ears are no longer full of angry, angst screams. Only the silence of an empty library.

Glancing up, my pen falls from my hand and rolls off the table.

I make no move to retrieve it.

I’m too busy staring at who’s sitting across from me.

Noah lounges in the vacant seat opposite of mine, with a leather jacket around his shoulders and a beanie pulled low over his head and a grin designed to melt panties.

Perfect.

He always looks perfect. Even his glasses sit aligned on the bridge of his nose.

Meanwhile, my hair is pulled up in a messy bun because it hasn’t been washed in two days and I’m pretty sure I have flecks of croissant from the pastry I ate earlier around the corners of my mouth.

All aboard the hot mess express, passengers: me.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Noah pulls me out of self-deprecating thoughts.

“I’ve been here.” I reach down to pick up my pen, ignoring his eyes following me as I do.

When I sit back up, it’s to see Noah’s putting one of my earbuds in his ear. A brow quirks up when he hears what’s playing.

“Interesting.” He drops the pod between us.

“Not what you expected?” I ask, reaching for it.

“I took you for a bubble-gum pop kind of girl.”

Now it’s me who raises a brow. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

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