“Mhm,” he hums. His finger traces the pulse in my neck. “Perhaps.”
I start to nod as his finger wanders lower. Oxygen leaves my lungs as he leans in close. Lips skimming my jaw.
My fingers curl around the lip of the desk.
“Perhaps, you’d rather I greet her like this.” He pulls at the neckline of my onesie as his lips move along my jaw. “Maybe make her comfortable like this.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” I whisper.
His lips stop moving. “And why’s that?”
Not waiting for my answer, he hoists my legs around his hips, pressing me close.
I feel him in every iota.
“Maybe,” his lips hover over mine. “I should greet her in a way I’ve wanted to since she first walked in my club after six long years away…”
My eyes skip to his. What?
All coherent thoughts leave as his head angles toward mine only to have him freeze above me. His gaze locked on my chest.
Naturally.
Huffing in annoyance, I snap my fingers. “I’m up here.”
Noah doesn’t respond.
“Noah.” I move to touch his face when, like a viper, his hand catches my wrist.
“You’re bleeding.”
“What?”
“You’re. Bleeding.”
His free hand traces the small flecks of dried blood on my collarbone.
I yank my hand from him, disentangling my legs from his waist as well. “I’m fine.”
Noah hasn’t stopped tracing the blood. I can feel him holding back. “Why are you bleeding, Sayer?”
I shake my head, silently begging him not to make me answer. I’m unsure I could find the right words.
“Sayer.” He cups my cheek.
Something flops to the floor and we pull apart to see Pan has knocked over my purse, the contents spilled on the floor.
Noah breaks away to pick it up and I’m quick to follow, rushing forward to gather everything before he can see…
The envelope.
His fingers wrap around it and without being told, he tears it open.
The photos fall out first, fanning across the desk. Touching me.
I recoil away from it as Noah, with slow, deliberate movements picks up the letter, reading it.
As his eyes move, his hands tighten around the paper. Wrinkling the edges.