Page 5 of Truce: Declan
"Good idea. I'll head straight to the tattoo parlor after I drop you guys off."
She can't be serious.
I give Noah a look, and he merely shrugs, shuffling back beside me. He stretches his arm, resting it along the back of the seat, his fingers grazing my shoulder ever so gently.
There's a pang of jealousy that sweeps through me. I can't quite explain it. Noah isn't my boyfriend—we barely know each other—but I don't want any other women fawning all over him.
He smiles, staring at me, watching me intently as he wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer. "Jealous?" he whispers into my ear.
I inhale sharply. "No. Why would I be jealous?"
He smiles and shrugs. "No reason." He opens his mouth and quickly closes it as if he were about to say something and thinks better of it.
I don't push him into telling me what's on his mind. This is new. I don't want to make a mess of a perfect evening, minus the rain and thunderstorm towering overhead.
The driver pulls up outside my apartment complex. I had been hoping the rain would have ceased or, at the very least, lightened up, but to no avail. I will get soaked when I step out from the dry confines of the vehicle.
"Wait for me," he tells the driver, "I'll be right back. I want to make sure that she gets inside."
I glance at him, surprised he's willing to get soaked for the chance at a good night kiss. Inviting him up seems a bit forward, especially since he told the driver to wait for him.
I hurry out of the vehicle onto the sidewalk and rush up the front steps, water pouring down in buckets as I shove my key into the main door to gain entrance inside.
Noah is right behind me, standing under the sky, rain cascading down him in rivulets as he squints to see me through the deluge.
"Do you want to come in?" I ask. "I have coffee." I laugh awkwardly at my offer, given that's where we came from, getting coffee.
"I do, but I shouldn't," he says, and I hear the engine roar as the vehicle no longer waits for Noah, driving off, leaving him stranded in the rain on my front stoop.
He curses, and I smile with a soft laugh. "Come on in. We can always call you a cab," I say, managing to get the key turned into the lock and yank open the door.
The hallway is bright, given the darkness outside from the dark thunderclouds overhead. We are both soaked, our feet squishing and sloshing, leaving a mess behind us on the floor as we head for the stairs. "No elevator," I say.
"I think I can handle it."
He's an athlete, a professional one. Of course, he can manage a couple of flights of stairs. I grip the handrail and climb the staircase, dripping in the process.
Noah is right on my heel, and I keep hoping that I don't slip and fall on my ass, taking him down with me. Thankfully, I make it up to the third floor and yank open the stairwell door, holding it open for Noah to follow.
He waits beside me until I lead him down the hallway, not that he isn't familiar with my apartment complex. He did pick me up a few hours earlier with Jasper. "This way," I say as I lead him down the hall as we approach my front door. I unlock the door, flip on the lights, and shiver. The heat is barely on. It's been moderate outside the past couple of days, a nice warm-up for fall.
But with the rain soaking me through, I'm chilly. I need to get out of my wet clothes. I stand at the front entrance inside my house, working tirelessly on unlacing my boots without leaning on the wall because I'm wet.
Noah watches for a beat and removes his shoes without me asking. His socks are soaked, leaving an imprint on the wooden floorboards. He removes those next and pulls his shirt off over his head, undressing.
Glancing up at him as I'm bent forward attempting to remove my boots lands me toppling over. He catches me before I hit the floor with about as much grace and elegance as a cow tipping over. I'm a mess, and I can't imagine he has a single sexy thought running through his head while he's undressing.
However, my mind is entirely on him. His chiseled abs, wet hair, and skin that glistens in the light. My insides stir with a familiar warmth, and the shivering and chills I felt from the cold dissipate as the room is several degrees warmer.
"Careful," Noah says, his hands on my shoulders, steadying me from falling face-first onto the floor. His touch is warm and firm, and his fingers move from my shoulders down my arms. "How did you even get those boots on?" he asks at my predicament of attempting to remove them. It's an obvious struggle, and I'm grateful he's not laughing at me.
"They weren’t wet.” I don't intend on stalking into my bedroom with wet clothes and plopping my rear down to remove my shoes. "I swear they shrunk in the rain," I mutter to myself, but he laughs, apparently overhearing my remark.
"Let me," he says and bends down onto one knee.
I gasp softly at his position, his nose right near my crotch, my leather skirt riding up slightly from bending forward and nearly falling onto the floor.
His voice is gravelly and thick as he glances up at me. "Put your hands on my shoulders," Noah instructs.
