BELLA HAD NO idea why she’d confessed her most embarrassing secret to him. Maybe it was the way he stood there, his dark eyes watchful, as if he was genuinely interested in what she was telling him.
Or maybe it was how he’d cared that she was cold.
Or maybe it was simply that he’d called her “honey” and she’d never been anyone’s honey before. She’d only ever been Bella.
Perhaps the hot chocolate had helped, too, but suddenly it felt like she could give him a few answers about herself.
Admitting about the money had been easier because he’d guessed already and that wasn’t something she could hide. But she’d never told anyone about her café plans. She didn’t particularly want to tell him, either. However, he’d asked her straight out and she hadn’t wanted to lie. And it hadn’t been until she’d told him that she realized, with a twisting sensation in her gut, that she felt weird about how the money was connected with Grandma June’s death and that if June hadn’t died, she wouldn’t be getting anything at all.
She couldn’t feel right about that and she couldn’t feel happy.
The whole situation was messed up and now she’d messed it up even more by having sex with Noah, then telling him about her crush.
He stared at her now, a tall, dark silent figure in the kitchen. He still had his coat on, his cowboy hat on the counter beside him, his expression impenetrable. A hard man to read.
Yet she could see the glitter of heat in his dark eyes. And it all came rushing back to her again, the way he’d kissed her. The way he’d growled as he’d pushed her against the door frame. The catch in his voice as he’d murmured her name...
He hadn’t been hard to read or impenetrable then. She’d known exactly what he was thinking and what he wanted.
Her.
Her heart beat faster at the thought, because that same look was back in his eyes, yet also what looked like anger. Which was strange. Why would he be angry about a dumb teenage crush?
“No,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
“Right.” She took a breath. “And why would you? I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Is that why you never spoke to me? Why you hid in your bedroom all the time?”
“I didn’t think you noticed that.”
“I did notice. And, yeah, I wondered why.”
Her face got hot. He’d never paid her any attention that she could remember, but apparently she’d made an impression all the same. “You never said anything.”
“Neither did you.”
“You were nineteen. And I—I was thirteen. Nothing could have happened.”
“No, it couldn’t.” His arms dropped to his sides. “But I could have been your friend, Bella.”
She hadn’t thought of that. But then, he couldn’t have been a friend to her, not with the way she’d felt about him.
“It wasn’t a friend I wanted,” she said.
“And yet you needed one, I think.”
You did. You were so lonely.
Her jaw felt tight and she wanted to look away. He seemed to know things about her that she didn’t even know herself, and she hated how vulnerable that made her feel.
“Why would you say that?” The defensiveness in her voice made her want to cringe.
“Why?” His dark eyes were full of an expression she couldn’t read. “Because I felt the same way.”
Shock rippled through her. She’d never considered that, certainly not back then. He’d always seemed so strong and self-contained, never needing anyone or anything. Lonely was the last thing she’d thought he’d be.
“I had no idea,” she said huskily. “You didn’t seem to need anything, let alone a friend.”
“I didn’t think I did, either. Not at the time.” His gaze sharpened. “But I could be your friend now, Bella. If you wanted me to be.”
She caught her breath, an ache settling in her chest at the intensity in his expression, a ghost of the need that had turned her inside out on the stairs rising inside her.
You don’t want him to be a friend. You want more.
That was crazy. She didn’t want more. She’d had sex with him and now her curiosity was satisfied. She didn’t need to do it again.
“Okay,” she allowed, shoving away any doubts. “I think I’d like that.”
There was a single moment of tension, where Noah stared hard at her and she thought he might say something else. But then he gave one of his sharp nods, dismissing the subject. “Are you hungry? Because I brought dinner over. And, no, you can’t refuse. We’re friends now, understand?”
She ignored the ache in her chest, because that didn’t matter. She could do friends. Friends was good. “You’re incredibly bossy, you know that?”
His hard mouth relaxed and she held her breath, wondering if she was going to get a smile. “And you’re incredibly stubborn, so I guess that makes us even.”
“Unstoppable force meets immovable object. This should be fun.”
Then there it was, the beginnings of a slightly crooked grin. “Fun, huh? Is that what you call it?”
Her heart seized, the faint quirk of his mouth stealing all the air from her lungs. Lord, getting a smile out of this guarded man could easily become an obsession.
“Yeah.” She couldn’t help smiling back. “I do.”
His grin deepened, then he turned toward the stove. “Get us out some plates, honey. I’ll get this out of the oven.”
Honey. He’d called her honey. And he’d smiled at her. He’d full-on smiled.
You can never be friends with him. It’ll never be enough.
But Bella ignored the voice in her head and got out the plates instead.
They ate at the table, a simple meal of chili and rice that was one of the most delicious meals she’d ever eaten.
“This is really good,” she said as she took another bite. “Do you have a housekeeper or what?”
“No. I made it myself.”
She put her fork down. “You did?”
“Don’t look so surprised. Men can cook, you know.”
“Yeah, I know, but I didn’t think you did. You work on the ranch all day.”
He lifted one powerful shoulder. “I have to eat, and who else is going to do it? And, no, I don’t have a housekeeper. I used to do all the cooking and stuff for Dad so it made sense to keep on doing it.”
“Was Hank not much of a cook?”
“Hank wasn’t much of anything.” His voice had a bitter edge. “Dad was a drunk. You knew that, right?”
Bella had heard the rumors about Hank. But she’d been a kid and what kid would understand what an alcoholic was? Her mother had never said anything and she’d never seen Hank get drunk while they were married.
“Maybe,” she said carefully. “But I was really young. And then we left town so...” She stopped. “Was he? An alcoholic, I mean?”
Noah’s gaze was opaque, but she sensed currents moving below the surface. Deep, treacherous currents. “Yeah. He’d been drinking all my life. Mom got sick of it and left when I was thirteen.”
Horrified, Bella didn’t know quite what to say. “I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”
He shrugged again. “It was what it was.”
“But... I didn’t see him drink.”
“He didn’t while he was married to Avery.”
She was almost afraid to ask him what had happened after Avery had left, because she had a feeling she knew already. He would have gone back to the bottle, wouldn’t he?
“Yes,” Noah said, obviously reading her mind. “He did.”
Bella’s chest tightened. Hank had died not long after, which must have meant he’d hit that bottle again pretty hard. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, not able to think of anything else to say. “I’m sorry about Mom. I’m sorry she left him. I don’t know why she’s like that. She wanted something that no one was ever able to give her, I think.”
“It doesn’t matter why she was like that.” Noah looked down at his plate. “I thought Dad had given it up, but he hadn’t. And he died, anyway.”
There was pain in his voice. Anger, too.
Instinctively, Bella reached out and laid her hand over his where it rested on the table. “That’s awful, Noah. It really sucks.”
Slowly, he looked up, the darkness in his eyes catching her, holding her. His hand was very warm beneath hers.
And abruptly the static charge that leaped between them shimmered in the air.
“You shouldn’t do that, honey,” he said quietly.
“What? Touch you?”
“Yeah.”
Something quivered inside her. He was probably right, yet she didn’t take her hand away. “Why not?”
“You know why not.”
Her skin prickled, the quiver becoming a throb, an ache.
She should take her hand away, but his skin felt good against hers and those currents in his eyes fascinated her. She wanted to know what had made him so angry—was it her mother? Or was it directed at his father? What had his life really been like living up at that ranch house all alone except for an alcoholic dad?
Lonely. Just like yours.
Her heart squeezed. He’d done a lot of stuff for her since she’d arrived here. But what had she done for him?
Nothing. Because if she never did anything for anyone, then she’d never have to accept anything from them.
That had always seemed easier, safer.
Except now it didn’t. Now it felt selfish and mean.
She took a silent breath. “Perhaps you better tell me, so I know for sure.”
The static in the air became denser, electric, the way it did before a thunderstorm.
He wanted her, she could see it in his gaze.
The need she thought she’d put away pushed at her, and she wanted to give him something to sand away the edges of the pain she’d seen in his eyes.
But the only thing she had to give was sex.
And why not? He wanted her and she wanted him, and now she knew what he did to her, she’d be better prepared to control it. She wouldn’t let herself get so carried away. After all, she wasn’t a virgin any longer.
Bella stayed where she was and kept her hand on his, and eventually he gave a rough curse, pulling his hand away and shoving his chair back, getting to his feet.
She didn’t move, watching him as he headed around the table, hauling back her chair, reaching down to slide an arm around her waist and drawing her up.
She pressed her palms to his chest, feeling the heat of him again.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was rough, his hand hot as he cupped her jaw. “You shouldn’t have touched me.”
She barely heard him over the thunder of her heart. “I wanted to. I like touching you.”
“Honey.” He stroked his thumb across her cheekbone. “We shouldn’t do this again. Friends, remember?”
“So let me go.” She spread her fingers out, the heat of his body warming her right through. “Walk away.”
It was a gamble, but he didn’t call her bluff and release her.
If anything, his hold on her tightened, his eyes shadowed and hungry, burning as hot as the fire in the woodstove.
“I can’t give you anything more than this.” The brush of his thumb on her skin tantalized her. “Understand? Just sex, nothing else.”
Her heart gave a little kick, but she ignored it. “I don’t want anything more, either. Once I’ve sold the house, I’ll be going back to Seattle.”
The lines of his face were sharp with the same hunger she recognized from before, and she could feel how tense he was. Suddenly all she could think about was how to release that tension. And what it would feel like if he did.
No, she knew. It would feel like it had when he’d taken her on the stairs.
Need abruptly spilled out of her and she rose up on her toes, making the decision for them both by capturing his hard mouth with hers.
There was a moment of silence and stillness.
Then Noah gave a husky growl against her lips, and both arms came around her, fitting her tightly to him. She sighed, opening her mouth to his kiss, sliding her palms up his chest and around his neck, pressing against him.
Too much, yet not enough.
A low moan of hunger escaped her, turning her frantic for more.
He tangled his hands in her hair, drawing her head back. “Hush,” he murmured, soothing her. “Hush, honey. I’ve got you.”
Then he swept her up into his arms, gathering her against his chest.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she murmured, settling against the ferocious heat of his body. “I can walk.” But it was a faint protest. She didn’t want him to put her down. She wanted him to carry her.
And he did, holding her as if she weighed nothing at all, heading upstairs and not for the room she’d chosen for herself, but for the master bedroom instead.
June’s room.
A big dormer window sat above the wrought-iron bedstead covered in chipped white paint, the mattress bare, all the bedding stripped from it.
“My bed’s already made,” she pointed out.
“I’m not having you in a single bed.” Noah set her down by the door. “Wait there and don’t move.”
It was an order, so she did as she was told, unable to take her eyes off him as he moved to the big old wardrobe in the corner of the room, pulling out one of Grandma June’s quilts and throwing it over the bed.
Then he turned to her and held out a preemptory hand.
The expression on his handsome face was fierce, his dark eyes challenging.
Waiting for her to take it.
Bella put her hand in his, his fingers closing around it, drawing her close. Then he gave her a little push, sitting her down on the bed, before dropping fluidly to his knees.
“Noah,” she breathed, reaching for him.
He ignored her hands, nudging her legs apart so he could kneel between them before reaching to grab the hem of her sweatshirt. “Lift your arms.”
Trembling, she did so, letting him undress her so at last she was sitting there, her top half clad in nothing but her worn black bra.
The chill in the air made goose bumps rise on her arms, though that may have been the way his gaze moved over her, heating every place that it rested. “No wonder you’re cold,” he murmured. “You were only wearing a T-shirt under that.”
“I—I’m not cold now,” she stuttered.
No one had seen her in only a bra. No one had seen her naked, not since she was a very young child. And perhaps she should have felt embarrassed about Noah seeing her like that. But she didn’t.
She felt as if she’d been waiting for this moment all her life.
He leaned forward and reached behind her, unclipping her bra and slipping it off.
She didn’t feel self-conscious. Not with him looking at her as if she was a feast he’d been starving for.
“Beautiful.” He ran his palms up her bare arms, scorching every inch of skin he touched. “You’re so lovely.”
She shook when he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her throat, and again when his hands moved to her breasts, his fingertips brushing over her skin as if she was precious and he didn’t want to break her.
His care made her throat tighten, his touch making her moan as his thumbs teased her nipples into hard little points.
Bella shut her eyes, somehow both eased by his touch and inflamed by it. She reached for him, but he caught her hands in his and held them down, kissing his way down her body, his hot mouth finding one nipple and sucking gently. The sensation was so exquisite she cried out, pleasure heating her up from the inside out, chasing away the relentless cold.
Then Noah pushed her back on the bed and took off the rest of her clothes.
She wasn’t embarrassed then, either, because he gave her no time to be, his hands on her thighs, pushing them wide, placing his mouth where she was hot and wet and aching.
A groan escaped her as his hands firmed and he began to explore her with a relentless gentleness that made her shake and shudder, made the pleasure build even higher.
It felt like he was building her a house made of touches and licks, of kisses and caresses. A house constructed of pleasure, with many rooms and levels. With stairs that went higher and higher, reaching up into the sky.
Bella gasped at the sharpness of the sensations, every part of her gathering impossibly tight. And then she came apart, shattering between his hands, sobbing and overwhelmed.
He let her lie there for a couple of minutes, caressing and soothing her. Then he tucked her into the quilt before shrugging out of his clothes. And what little breath she had left escaped her lungs.
Because he was beautiful. A work of art carved by long hours of hard physical labor. Broad shoulders and powerful chest, his stomach flat and corrugated with cut muscle. His skin was tanned in the light of the room, and smooth, with the odd scar here and there, and her hands itched to touch him, explore every beautiful line of him.
Naked, and without any self-consciousness, he bent to retrieve something from his coat pocket, then stalked to the bed and got in beside her, hauling the quilt over them both.
Then she was enclosed in heat, his large, hard body settling over her, lean hips nudging her thighs apart, his hands coming down on the pillow on either side of her head. He was wonderfully hot. Warming her, scorching her.
She stroked him hungrily, loving the feel of firm muscle and the prickle of hair against her palms.
“You okay?” His voice had a gritty edge to it that thrilled her.
“Yes.” The hard press of his erection burned against her stomach and she tilted her hips, enjoying the way the movement rubbed it against more sensitive parts of her anatomy, sending delicious chills through her. “More than.”
A muscle in his jaw leaped, his gaze hot and fierce. He didn’t smile or speak, his body rigid, hunger in every line of his face.
“I mean it.” She stroked him the way he’d stroked her, soothing him. “I’m okay. Don’t look so worried.”
That muscle in his jaw jumped again, the raw expression on his face filling up all the empty spaces inside her. Warming the frozen parts of her.
She wanted to tell him that he could fill up those empty spaces with her, too, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, she ran her hands over him, using touch to communicate what she didn’t want to say.
He remained very still, the glitter in his eyes becoming sharper. “This is just for the winter,” he said harshly. “And then it’s over.”
Something shuddered in her chest, but that was what she’d told him downstairs, and so she nodded. “Yes. Just the winter. Then I’ll be going back to Seattle.”
He gave her one more long look, then shifted back on his knees, tearing open the foil packet he’d been holding, then sheathing himself. Easing between her thighs again, he lifted her, fitting her to him.
Then he pushed inside her, staring at her so fiercely she almost ignited on the spot. The intense pressure made her shudder, and then completeness she felt as he settled deep inside her made her shudder again.
And she sighed his name in relief, her nails digging into his skin, arching up into the heat and all that delicious, rock-hard muscle. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him to her, as he began to move.
He said nothing, the thrust of his hips lazy and slow. A complete contrast to the intensity of his gaze.
She tried to urge him to up his pace, but he only kissed her instead, filling her up yet making her hungry. So that she groaned, kissing him back, winding her arms around him, aching for more.
His movements slowed, pleasure drawing out until she was shuddering like a tree in a high wind, clutching at his back, gasping his name.
And just when she didn’t think she could bear any more, he thrust deep, making the tight knot of sensation inside her suddenly burst apart.
She cried his name, pleasure rushing over her, lights bursting behind her eyes. And then he was slamming himself into her, over and over until his big body went rigid, a guttural groan echoing in the room.
She held on to him, stroking his muscular back, reveling in the shift and flex of his muscles beneath her palms. In the way his body curled around hers, surrounding her in heat and the warm, spicy scent of his skin.
Filling up those empty spaces inside her as perfectly as the last missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle.
But it can’t feel perfect. Because you’re leaving.
Bella shut her eyes, ignoring the lurch that particular thought gave her. She didn’t want anything to disturb the perfection of lying in bed with Noah Faraday.
Because, of course, she was leaving.
But not yet.
NOAH COULDN’T SLEEP. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, Bella warm and naked and curled in his arms, her hair a silken black storm over his chest.
He hadn’t meant to sleep with her. When she’d put her hand over his on the table down in the kitchen, he’d thought he’d had the strength to stop himself. Certainly he wouldn’t have offered to be friends with her if he thought he couldn’t resist their undeniable chemistry.
But she hadn’t taken her hand away when he’d told her to, only looked right at him, blue eyes glowing with heat. And he felt his resistance burn to ashes.
He’d told himself this was the equivalent of another sip, another taste. And hell, he’d already had one taste so what harm would another do? He wouldn’t get addicted.
She’d revealed things about herself that had made him realize how lonely she was, yet how strong, too. Her confessing to her crush had made him stare, but when she’d mentioned how she’d had all her money stolen, he’d wanted to find whoever was responsible and punch their lights out.
She hadn’t given up her dream, though. She was still working toward it with all the grim determination in her soul.
He respected that. He respected her.
Then when he’d told her about his father, she’d put her hand on his and looked at him with such sympathy that his chest had felt like it was full of barbed wire. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at him like that. As if he was someone who deserved better than what he’d got.
And there’s nothing more tempting than being made to feel like you matter, either.
No one had ever laid their hands on him, tried to soothe him the way she had. Stroking him as if he was the one who needed gentling, not her.
You did nearly lose it.
She’d been under him, naked. Soft and warm, needing him. And he’d felt nothing but hungry. As if he wanted to cover himself with her heat and scent, with the taste of her. Like he’d die if he didn’t have her.
He hadn’t wanted to be like that with her again. He hadn’t wanted to feel at the mercy of an appetite he couldn’t control.
He wasn’t going to be like his father.
Then again, she wouldn’t be here forever. She’d be leaving at the end of winter and knowing that had helped him hold on to his self-control. So he could take her the way she deserved, slow and hot and easy. Drawing out her pleasure.
Easier for you to stay in control, too.
She shifted in his arms and instantly he was hard again. He wanted to roll her on her back, slide inside her, but he didn’t want to wake her. If they were going to have sex again he needed to go back up to his house for more condoms, anyway.
Are you going to have sex again?
The question sat uncomfortably in his head, chasing away any sleep he might have had.
At last he moved, sliding carefully from the bed, finding his clothes and dressing before going downstairs to make coffee.
As it brewed, he leaned against the kitchen counter, staring through the window and out into the darkness.
There was no denying it. The thought of her being right next door all winter was one hell of a temptation. Perhaps too much of one.
But was there any point in resisting? They’d already had sex twice, so maybe it was better to embrace temptation wholeheartedly rather than resisting and failing. It wouldn’t be forever because she would be leaving and that would be the end of it.
Keep telling yourself that.
No, why couldn’t he have something for himself for a change? He always denied himself, so why should he do that with Bella? She wanted him. And it had been a long time since he’d allowed himself something good. Something soft and warm and his.
A tension that he hadn’t realized was there relaxed, and he almost smiled as he turned to get the coffeepot off the stove.
Then he noticed the little notepad sitting next to his cowboy hat on the counter. A list of things that needed fixing was written on it, plus a few added extras such as “repaint hallway” and “polish woodstove” and “clean windows” and “new curtains?”
Bella hadn’t spent the last two days doing nothing, clearly.
Noah picked up the notepad and tore off the page with the list on it.
Looked like he had some work to do.