Breaking Noah (14 page)

“Whatever you do, don’t move. You stay right here and take what I’m going to give you. If you move, I stop. Do you understand?”

I shiver as his voice rings out through the speakers of my Mac, smirking as I watch the scene unfold on my screen—me in a very precarious position, thoroughly enjoying myself, as Noah rams his fingers inside me.

It definitely leaves nothing to the imagination.

My phone beeps, alerting me of a new message. It’s Dillon, telling me he won’t be home tonight. I snort. Like I actually give a damn. Him not coming home gives me more time to get this right. It needs to be perfect before I unleash this baby. I’m actually surprised he had the decency to message me. He never has before. Usually he just stumbles in whenever he’s done fucking the poor little slut he’s hooked up with for the night.

I play the video back over and over, editing it to make it look as bad as possible. Not that I really need to do much of anything.
“As your professor, you should refer to me as Mr. Bain. It’s only fair to the other students.”
I mean, come on.

The more I watch, the more convinced I am that I’m doing the right thing. Once I’m happy with the footage, I save it to a USB drive and hide it under the carpet in the corner of the spare room—a place I know Dillon will never find it.

Climbing into bed, I check my phone and see a text from Noah, asking me if I got home okay. I text back a reply, then turn off my phone. I hate the thrill that races through me when I see his name on my phone. I hate the way my body betrays me when he touches me. Dillon has never made me feel like that before….

Rolling over, I close my eyes, the image of Noah’s mouth on me playing over and over in my mind. I’ve watched that damn video so many times now I have every second of our encounter memorized.

My hand grazes my nipples, a rush of desire racing through me. I’m aroused, because if there’s one thing Noah knows how to do, it’s please a woman.

As my hand moves lower, resting between my thighs, I forget everything except the way his tongue felt when it thrust inside me. My finger slowly circles my clit as I spread my legs farther apart.

Come for me, Zara, I imagine him telling me in this moment if he were actually here.

Oh, God.
Those eyes locked on mine. Watching him taste me was so fucking sexy. I’ve received oral sex many times, but not one time did it come close to making me feel the way he did.

My fingers slide in and out of my pussy as I imagine his mouth pressed against my wetness. Remembering the growl in his throat when my body would respond to his nipping at my clit, my back arches off the bed as I rub feverishly against my clit, my thighs beginning to quiver.

“Noah,” I quietly mutter under my breath. He may not be physically with me, but he’s fucking here.

With my thumb pressed firmly to my clit, I thrust two fingers into my opening, feeling everything that Noah would feel if it were him inside me. My walls clamp down on my digits, warmth fills my entire body, and stars dance behind my closed lids. Pure ecstasy. Well, as close as I can get by myself, anyway.

I’m late for work again the following morning, having picked up an extra shift on my free day. A side effect of spending too much time thinking about Noah is I am easily distracted and I make stupid mistakes—like setting my alarm for p.m. instead of a.m.

After a word from my boss about my “tardiness not being acceptable” and me promising not to be late for the next month, I slip on my apron and begin my shift. The second I loop that apron over my head, though, I push all thoughts of Noah away, because even though I don’t need this job, I enjoy the distraction it gives me. I find making coffee relaxing, which is kind of ironic, considering how jittery I feel when I drink the stuff. Not that it stops me from downing a few cups a day. It’s even harder to pass up when you can get it for half the price.

“Hey! Zara, right?”

I look up and recognize the girl standing at the counter as the chick from my lit class. I rack my brain trying to remember her name, but it’s refusing to come to me.

“Yeah, hey.” I smile widely. “How’re things?” I hope I can avoid having to use her name until I remember it.

“Good. We were going to catch up, but you never called me.”

“Right. Sorry, I totally forgot. I’ve been so busy with classes and work….” My voice trails off because it sounds like a piss-weak excuse, but it’s better than telling her the truth: that I had no intention of calling her. “I have a break in about an hour, if you’re still around,” I say, nodding to the pile of books under her arms.

“I was heading to the library, but sure. That sounds great. I’ll meet you back here.” Her bright smile makes me feel bad about not calling her earlier.

She hangs around out front until my break, when I join her. My new friend—whose name I still cannot remember—is sitting at one of the four white plastic tables in the dining room. I sit down and slide the coffee I’ve just made her across the table. I’m racking my brain trying to think of a way to find out her name without actually asking, but I’m coming up empty.

“Thanks.” She grins, her fingers closing around the cup. “So I didn’t even realize you work here. I haven’t seen you and I swear I come past at least twice a day for my fix.”

“I only do a few shifts a week,” I explain. “Just enough to kill off some of my spare time.”

“I wish my parents would let me get a job. They’re so overprotective. I guess I can either work or go to school,” she jokes, staring wistfully into the black depths of her cup.

“I wish my mom and dad were like that. I have to work to afford little things like gas and food,” I tease back. “But my grades are good, so I can’t complain.”

The conversation grows silent as we both search for a new topic to talk about. It’s hard when you don’t really know someone. What should you say? How do you get to know someone without asking a billion questions? I probably should have thought of this before deciding to make friends. In my defense, she did pop up here out of nowhere.

“Did you finish your paper?” she finally asks, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, the other night. It was easier than I thought it would be, though.”

“You’re insane. That was the hardest thing I’ve written…ever. Maybe that’s why you can work and go to school. You’re obviously a genius.” We both halfheartedly laugh.

“Well, my break is almost over,” I say, my voice apologetic.

“That’s cool. My sister’s here, anyway. Maybe we can catch up again?” she asks.

I feel bad because I can see how hopeful she is. She seems like a nice girl, but I just don’t need friends complicating my life right now. I’m here for a reason, and I can’t risk losing sight of that.

“Sure,” I say, forcing a smile. I hand her my phone, which is open to contacts. “Throw your number in and I’ll call you.”

“Hey, Mel.” I look up to see a petite brunette and I know it’s her sister. I can see the likeness right away. They have the same facial features and dark eyes. “You ready?”

Melanie.
That’s it. I have to stop myself from hugging this chick. Instead I offer her a small smile, which she returns, her eyes watching me curiously.

“Oh, Heather, this is my friend, Zara. She’s just moved here from Ohio.”

“Oh, nice,” she says, her smile widening. “That’s a pretty big move. Do you have family out here, or just for college?”

“Both.” I smile. “My boyfriend lives here, so it made sense to apply here.”

“Nice,” she says again. “Well, it was great meeting you….”

“Zara,” I supply. “Zara Hamilton.”

Her eyes widen, her gaze slipping to the floor. I have no idea what just happened, but this chick won’t even look at me. Even Mel is eyeing her sister like she’s lost the plot.

“What’s wrong?” Mel demands.

“Nothing,” Heather mumbles. She grabs Mel’s wrist and practically drags her off the seat. “I’m late for work is all. See you later, Zara. Nice meeting you.”

I watch, dumbfounded, as they walk off.
What the hell was that all about?
I’m positive that her weird change in behavior and hearing my surname isn’t a coincidence. She recognized my name, I’m sure of it. Which could mean only one thing. She had to have known Karly.

After work, I rush home, really needing a shower. The days that the diner hosts the weekly fish fry, I always end up smelling like the cargo area of a ship, and it’s fucking nasty. As soon as I bust through the front door, Dillon catches my eye. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, still wearing his shoes and coat, he stares me down, his glare unforgiving.

“So, what’s this I hear about you going on a date with Luke last week?”
Great.
Exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I have to find a way to cover this one up.

“It was nothing. We went out for dinner. He’s in one of my classes and I’m trying to catch up. Calm down, all right?”

“Hell, no. The kid’s running all around my frat talking about how he’s gonna fuck my girl. That she has the hots for him. So, Zars, do you wanna screw Luke? Is it true? You got a thing for football players now? Trading in your Greek for a jock?”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re fucking drunk.” I spin on my heel, trying to walk away and defuse the situation, but he’s quicker than I thought he would be. Grabbing my arm forcefully, he turns me back around and straight into his hard chest.

“You didn’t answer the question. Do. You. Want. To. Fuck. Luke?”

“No,” I spit out.
Hell, no.
Hand to God, I don’t want anything to do with that guy. The audacity of Dillon to question me, anyway. He’s screwing half of the campus, and if one stupid football player shows me the slightest bit of attention, he flies off the handle. Say hello to Captain Hyprocrite.

“I’ll tell you one time, Zars. I find out you’re fucking Luke or any other douche bag, I’ll ruin you. You’re not gonna make me look like a chump.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” I mock, ripping my arm from his grip. “And I’ll tell you this. You lay another fucking hand on me, I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep, you cocky bastard.”

His eyes widen in fear, then they subtly fall to a glare, a smirk across his lips. “There’s my girl. I thought you checked out on me. Glad to have ya back, Zars.” What a sick, twisted fuck.

I walk to the bathroom, raising my sleeve to see the impression of his fingers across my biceps. It’s going to bruise, I already can tell. A few moments later, the front door opens and closes just as quickly. Thank you, Lord, he’s gone. Maybe he’ll stay out all night.

Then again, if he doesn’t, I don’t want to be in his crosshairs when he comes back even more drunk and out of control. Tossing a pair of sleep pants and a tank top into my purse, I leave a note on the counter that says I’m going to hang out at Mel’s tonight to start getting ready for finals just before Thanksgiving break. I lock up behind me and hop in my car. My destination isn’t going to be Mel’s.

I knock on the door, and Noah opens it. “Are you okay? You never texted me back. I figured you didn’t want to see me again,” he says, cracking the door wide enough for me to slink through.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Had a fight with Dillon. Just needed to get out of there.” I continue walking into the living room when his hand comes down on my arm—the same one that Dillon hurt—and I wince.

“What the hell’s going on, Zara?” he asks, demanding answers.

“Nothing.” I try to pull away, but he’s rushing me to remove my coat. Once the leather hits the floor, he raises my sleeve and takes in a large breath.

“That motherfucker,” he hisses through his teeth. “He laid his hands on you? Did you call the police?”

“No. It’s no big deal. He accused me of fucking that football player, and when I tried to walk away, he grabbed me too hard. Really, I’m fine.” It makes me sick to keep coming up with excuses for him. Regardless if he meant it or not, Dillon abused me today. He touched me out of anger and it’s not right. I can’t detour from my mission just yet. When Ryan gets home…yeah. That’s all I have to say about that. I wouldn’t want to implicate my big brother or anything.

“You’re not going back there tonight, Zara. If I have my way, you’ll never go back to his apartment.” He’s serious. Dead fucking serious. I’ve never seen this protective look in his eyes before. Sure, he’s been jealous, but this is a new look for him. And it’s kind of hot.

“Didn’t plan on it. Figured I’d hang out here and see what you were up to.” I plop down on the couch and open my bag, showing off my pajamas. His resolve finally cracks and a smile starts to form. “See, I’m a big girl. I know how to handle myself.”

Noah and I order a pizza and spend another night watching TV and talking. It’s weird to not be having sex with him. I know I want to and I know he feels the same way, but it’s like we don’t have to do anything other than be together. And this is where my mind starts to play tricks on me. I know what I’m supposed to be doing. Sometimes, I just forget. Not that Karly’s dead, but that I shouldn’t be feeling this happy and free when I’m with Noah. I shouldn’t be wanting to do this forever.

I shouldn’t care for him.

Am I falling for him?
I’m constantly thinking about him, wanting to be with him, relishing his touch, smiling like a fool when his name shows up on my phone…
Yeah, falling for him sounds about right.

Finally realizing my real issue, it’s almost too much to handle. I have to find a way out of this. Just to escape him for a moment. If I tell him I want to leave, he’ll only force me to stay. So I’m going to just have to wait and bide my time until the opportunity’s right for me to sneak away.

I sneak out his front door while he’s in the shower, leaving a scribbled note on the kitchen counter:
Something came up. Will call you later. Z

I’m confused as hell after last night. I hate this guy…don’t I?

My phone vibrates. I check the screen and see a new message from Mel.

Mel:
Hey! Wanna catch up for dinner?

Me:
Sure, just tell me where and when.

I press send, a twinge of guilt rippling through my body. I feel so bad. My only motivation for meeting up with her again is to find out why Heather reacted the way she did. I’m sure she knows something, and I’m determined to find out what it is.