Page 80 of Million Dollar High

“I don’t know… A fluttering.”

“You have a degree from Cornell, Ashley, and if you weren’t telling one of your many lies, I believe your dad wasted a lot of money to send you to some fancy bullshit finishing school in Switzerland. Find the words.”

A moment of silence. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

A needle of guilt pierced him, perversely making him angrier. “I’ll call the doctor, tell her to swing by the condo.” He paid enough for Dr. Franklin to make house calls.

“Thank you, Noah, I knew you?—”

He hung up and threw the phone down. Dragging a hand over his face, he looked up to find Leia watching him.

They hadn’t talked about Ashley or the baby since she’d moved in. His heart hammered as her eyes stayed on him.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he murmured, gauging her reaction. “That woman drives me to the fucking edge.”

Without responding, she pushed aside the light blanket he’d thrown over her and stood. Expecting her to come to him, his eyes widened when she caught the hem of the short cream jersey dress and pulled it over her head.

No bra.

No panties.

His heart leapt into his throat. Leia’s body. The ultimate distraction, panacea and paradise rolled into one. He stood and walked around to perch on the edge of his desk. His groin wasalready hard enough to cause him severe distress, but he stopped himself from reaching for her. He wanted to savor her, drown in the feeling thundering through him.

“Leia…”

She traced her fingers down her midriff to the top of her thighs. His breath stalled, then rushed out when she slid her fingers into her pussy. “If you come over here, I’ll drive you to the edge, but in a good way.”

His clothes came off in seconds.

Driving into her, he shuddered. “God, Leia… you make me… I feel…”

Her wet fingers drifted to his lips. “I know, baby,” she whispered. “You don’t need to find the words. This is our language. Express yourself.”

Tim and Harry’s traffic-tracking program picked up Stephen Willoughby, returning to a seedy motel in South Beach, just before 8p.m. that evening. After congratulating them on a job well done, Noah left them hi-fiving each other and called Paddy.

“Call me once you confirm it’s him,” Noah instructed. “What I have to share with him won’t take too long.” Five minutes alone with the guy was all he needed.

“Understood.”

He went into the bedroom.

Leia was packing her clothes away in the space he’d provided in his closet. She hadn’t put up a fight when he’d had her stuff removed from her condo to his, thank God. Crossing to his side, he swapped his jeans and white T-shirt for a black turtleneck and black cargo pants. Leia’s eyes widened when he opened a drawer and pulled out black leather gloves.

“Are we going out? And why do you need gloves—” Her breath stalled. “You’ve found him?”

He gave a curt nod. “Paddy has a man stationed downstairs. He’ll come up and stay with you until I come back?—”

“No way. I’m coming with you.”

“Hell no. I don’t want you anywhere near that shithead.”

She walked up to him and stared him in the eye. “I need this, Noah. You want me to be able to put all this behind me one day, I need to bring my shovel.”

And there was his fucking conundrum. He loved her so desperately he didn’t want her harmed in any way, but he loved her because of that steely determination and unquenchable fire that blazed through her.

“Okay, you can come, but you remain at my side at all fucking times. Understood?”

A solemn nod. “Yes, Noah.”

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