“I’m not talking about this here.”
“Then where—”
“My place. Come over and we can talk.”
There was a pause. “Is this about sleeping with me?” Nicole’s tongue snuck across her lower lip and it was so cute, he smiled. It felt like clay cracking.
“You’re the one who wants it, Nikki.”
“I do not! You’re the one who…did that to me last night.”
“Because you were begging for it. Because you wouldn’t have left me alone until you got it.”
He turned in time to see her going a furious red. “Don’t be a…dick.” The word came out jerky, as though her swearing reflex was rusted over. It was fucking adorable. “Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t think that I’m cute.”
He couldn’t help it, he stepped forward and cupped a gloved, soapy hand to her cheek. Nicole’s mouth turned up, her gorgeous blue eyes closing, and he did what he’d wanted to do for weeks, months, forever. He kissed her, and everything went quiet as a velvet sunset. She tasted like the first shot of whiskey, sweet and smooth, burning all the way down. His cock turned to steel against his thigh and he pulled her closer, pressing her slender, shivering body against his and feeling it soften. She liked this, being held like this and god, he liked it, too. He still wanted to throw her down and fuck her but this soft, slow-moving bliss was something else.
Something clattered downstairs and Nicole shoved him away. “We can’t! We shouldn’t! Not again!”
She sounded so panicky, he laughed for what felt like the first time in ages. “Sorry, Nikki.”
“Stop calling me Nikki!”
“Sorry,Nicole.”
“Screw you.” From the hot way she was looking up at him, he knew she wanted him to kiss her again. Normally he’d oblige but her sisters were way too fucking close. “My place?”
She glanced nervously at the doorway. “Tonight?”
He thought of Paula and her mystery meeting. “Tomorrow. I’ll have the place to myself.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you live with—”
“I have a roommate. Sort of. I’ll explain tomorrow.”
“Oh my god, fine,” she said, then hesitated. “Are you going to meet up with Daniella?”
Jesus Christ, she was cute. “You still jealous?”
“No,” she said, practically green. She still had soap bubbles in her hair. He brushed them away, chest throbbing like he had a big internal bruise. “I’m not interested in Daniella.”
“What about Kelly?” she shot back. “Or any of the other girls you’re sleeping with?”
Unbidden, the truth came out of his mouth. “I’m only interested in one girl. She’s tall and pretty and she doesn’t know what she wants.”
Nicole’s brows drew together, and he didn’t know if she was going to hit him, kiss him or cry. He held his breath and the front door creaked open, Tabby and Sam’s voices floating in.
Nicole took a step back, her hands on her hips. “Text me your address. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She turned and strutted away, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Noah felt that psychic lifting of hairs. None of his problems were solved and bigger ones were looming but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. He turned back to the sink and kept washing.
Chapter 8
What did you wear to an interview with a possible biker? Pantsuit? Too formal. Tracksuit shorts? Too casual. Heels and a pencil skirt? Too work-y. And too sexy. Noah might get even more of the wrong idea.
Nicole had laid out every piece of clothing she owned, sure that if she could just figure out what to wear, everything would take care of itself. The problem was, most of her stuff was still hanging in her walk-in wardrobe in Adelaide. She could borrow something from Sam. Dressing in her black skinny jeans and docs might make her feel a little tougher and Noah wasn’t attracted to—
Nicole froze. How had she not considered this before? She whirled around and picked up her phone. Opening the notes app, she typed another question: