Twenty minutes later, Noah sits against the headboard on his bed with me straddling his lap, patching up the cut above his eyebrow. “You know,” I muse, “sometimes situations can be handled without using your fists.”
Noah’s hands fall to my waist. “I know,” he says, flinching as I clean up the cut. “He needed it though. The second he walked in he was looking for a fight.”
I cock a brow. “So, you let him use you as a punching bag?”
Noah shrugs his shoulders. “Yep,” he tells me. “It’s better he gets it all out of his system here then go looking for trouble somewhere else.”
Jesus Christ. If this is the boys fighting to let off steam, I can only imagine how it’s going to go down when Noah finds out about Rivers and Tully. There will be bloodshed that day and I can honestly say that I don’t want to be anywhere near them when it happens.
“You’re a good friend, Noah,” I murmur. “But, have you heard of this thing called a gym? If he needed to beat something up, why didn’t you just take him there? He could have laid into a punching bag and saved your face.”
He shakes his head, his fingers digging into my skin as I work on the cut. “Nope. Wouldn’t have worked,” he says. “Rivers needs the rush. He wouldn’t have gotten the same satisfaction beating the crap out of a bag. He needed to feel pain, and he needed to cause it.”
“So, you volunteered to be his target?”
“Yep.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
I roll my eyes and finish up working on his head before leaning into his chest. His warm arms circle me and hold me tight when I feel a rumble through his chest. “Sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s fine,” I murmur. “I’m not going to lie. It wasn’t great seeing someone hit you, but watching you fight back was the best thing I’ve ever watched.”
“Is that why you were sitting back on the couch with your feet up? You were getting hot? You were looking a little flushed.”
I can’t see his face, but I can certainly picture the cocky, too sure of himself smirk on his lips. I let out a breath and try to reign in my grin, but let’s face it; I can’t. He’s right…as usual. Noah Cage has an effect on my body that I simply can’t control. Maybe it’s the tattoos…or maybe it’s the heart beneath.
I let out a sigh. As much as I want to go where he’s trying to take this right now, I can’t; my mind is too heavy. “What’s going on with him?” I ask, slipping my hand under his shirt and sliding it up until it hovers over his beating heart.
The feel of his skin under mine is incredible, but when his fingers trail up my back and push into my hair, holding me to him, well, that’s so much better. Noah’s silent for a moment and I try to work out if he’s figuring out a way to avoid the topic, searching for what to say, or trying to decipher how to word something that isn’t my business. “Honestly,” he tells me. “I haven’t got a fucking clue.”
I glance up at him and one look into those green eyes tells me that this is his truth and something else tells me that it really fucking bothers him. “Tully thinks it’s got something to do with his mom.”
Noah sighs. “It’s always his mom.”
“What’s going on with her? I’ve never heard him talk about her before.”
“Exactly,” he grunts. “He never talks about her. I think things are messed up there, but I couldn’t tell you what. I’ve never met her before.”
“What?” I grunt. “How have you never met her? You guys have been friends for years.”
“I know,” he scoffs, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re guys; fucked up guys. We bonded over kicking peoples’ asses and drawing blood, not chatting about our family issues.”
“Are you trying to make yourself sound tough?” I laugh.
“Please,” he scoffs. “I don’t need to make myself look tough. You already believe it.”
“Cocky prick.”
“Princess.”
I shake my head and let out a sigh. He and I both know that I’m the furthest thing from a princess. Tully, well that’s a different story. “So, he hasn’t said anything to you?”
A grin rips across his handsome face as he looks down at me. “Have you met the guy? Do you really get the impression that he’s the type to sit around sharing his feelings?”
I can’t help but smirk at the absurdity of it as an image of Rivers sitting down for high tea, talking about his day sails through my mind. “No,” I laugh. “I guess not.”
“Exactly,” he says, his hand coming around to my chin and tilting it up towards his. “Now, tell me,” he smiles against my lips. “Do you have any other tricks to make me feel better?”