Page 76 of Beauty
My stomach plummets. Shit. What was I thinking?
I whip around and sit on the edge of the desk, hiding the folder from his line of sight, and hold out the tissues.
He stalks across the room without an ounce of shame, and when he stops in front of me, he undoes his buckle and opens his pants, exposing his still half-hard cock, then uses the tissue to wipe himself clean.
The moment is so intimate, so personal. I should look away. But I can’t. I can’t focus on anything but the ease with which he moves and the length I still feel branded inside me six years later.
The hunger that I thought was sated only seconds ago dials up again.
He tosses the tissue in the trash beside my new desk and tucks himself back in, like all of this is completely normal.
Then again, maybe it is to him. Maybe he’s a player like so many of the pro athletes my brothers have always warned me about.
I dismiss the idea as quickly as it appears. We may have only spent a couple of days together, but I know better than that.
Once his glasses are back in place, he meets my eye and gives me a lazy smile. “Hi.”
The nerves winding tight inside me break free and rush out with a giggle. “Hello again, Noah Harrison.” I like saying his name. Knowing his last name is like finding the last puzzle piece and popping it into place.
“Hello again, Sienna Langfield.” As he forces out my last name, his voice goes hoarse, like it’s a problem. Though I already knew it would be.
A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow past it. “I told you the name would change things.”
He gives me a simple nod.
“I know it’s a lot to wrap your head around and you’ve only had a few hours to deal with it, but?—”
He steps forward and places one of his big hands on my thigh.
I can’t help but study the spot, relishing the sight of his hand on me.
“I’ve had a bit longer than that to think about it,” he says evenly.
Blinking, I zero in on his face. “What?”
He nods slowly, his eyes darting between mine like he’s considering what he wants to say next.
Like whatever it is, I won’t like it.
The earth shifts beneath me again. At least I’m sitting this time.
“I discovered who you were a while ago.”
Confusion and concern grow in my chest. “How?”
He swipes the glasses off his face and wipes at his eyes with a groan. “I saw you at Brooks’s wedding.”
“Wait, that was—” I do the math and my stomach tumbles. “That was over a year ago.”
He presses his teeth into his bottom lip and nods solemnly.
Moment after moment flashes through my mind. Times over the last year when I wished and hoped that I’d find Noah. Moments when I was at my weakest, when I berated myself for wanting him there to comfort me.
My return to Paris after the wedding, when it was time to face the music. The moment I gave up on my dreams and my business for good. The instant everything I’d worked for went up in flames. The day I moved home, broken, my only solace was the thought that being stateside might increase my chances of locating that stupid book with his information in it.
God, I was so naïve. All that time, he knew who I was and he chose not to reach out.
He chose to keep me in the dark.
