Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(52)

“Just shut up, Noah. And go.”

“Am I being kicked out?”

“You could leave on your own. That would be easier for me.”

He moved toward the door. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

“For the last time.”

“Doesn’t have to be the last time, Caro.”

He knew that it was pointless, but he said it anyway. It had to be said. This was his cue to walk out the door like he’d promised. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t stop looking at her, standing there with tears of fury glittering in her eyes.

And something else as well. Her sexual awareness of him. He was so attuned to it now. After one night he knew her well. He loved it when her furious gaze ran hungrily over his body, lingering at the bulge at his crotch.

“Oh, please.” Her voice was hard. “Really, Noah?”

He shrugged, unembarrassed, and just waited. Her sig painted the room, but he’d almost stopped noticing it by now. He’d internalized it.

Right now, he was more interested in the sexual hunger pulsing out of her. And the regal angle of her chin. He loved that. So strong and proud and f*cking hot.

“You son of a bitch,” she said. “Jerking me around.”

“No. I’m not,” he said. “I meant what I said.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Fuck,” she muttered to herself. “You are making this so difficult.”

He took a slow step closer to her. “I’m not the one who’s doing that,” he said. “Tell me what’s wrong, Caro.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk.”

“There’s a lot we can do without talking.”

He had her with that. Once again, she was turned on and pissed off in equal measure.

“Fine,” she hissed. “If you’re offering.”

“Oh, yeah.”

She kicked off her sneakers, stepped out of the jeans with sharp, angry gestures. She stumbled, almost falling, as she stripped off her socks, cursing under her breath. The coat fell, the shirts, all pulled off in a tangled wad, plus the bra.

She stood before him naked, cheeks red. Mad as hell. Hot as hell. He could hardly breathe, he was so turned on. So afraid of screwing this up. Sex on a cliff’s edge.

She turned to unfold the comforter on the floor. The sight of her naked body bending over like that jacked him up to maximum lust levels.

He drew back just long enough to rip off his own clothes, vibrating with urgency. He kissed her frantically, sliding his fingers between her legs. She was already juicy and soft. She opened to him with a gasp, her nails sinking into his shoulders.

He stopped short. “Are you sore?”

“I’m good. Never better.”

“Answer the question I asked. Not a different one.”

“Don’t give me orders. I want you inside me. Right now.”

He rolled on top of her, and then went still. “Condoms?” he asked hopefully.

She shook her head slowly. “Implant.”

“Oh.” He hesitated, studying her face. “So we’re good, then?”

She pulled him closer. “Obviously. Shut up. I keep saying that.”

“Yeah. Makes me hot.”

His body wasn’t giving him a choice, not with her luscious form on full display.

Bracing her slender feet against his chest, he growled as he shoved every inch of his naked shaft slowly inside her.

“Yes,” he gasped, shuddering. “Oh yes. So f*cking . . . good.”

He seized her hands, winding his fingers through hers. Those pale, lush tits bouncing got him even hotter. The deep, rhythmic pump and glide picked up, sooner than he wanted it to. He couldn’t help it. Her panting turned into cries of pleasure as her body took him in. So deep.

It overtook them long before he was ready. Both of them were rushing it, on edge, burning up. She gripped his ass, hips bucking with frantic eagerness, and he didn’t have a hope in hell of resisting the pull. Straight to the finish.

The energy thundered over them, through them. Huge and obliterating.

He stayed on top of her, eyes squeezed shut for a long time. Unwilling to face it.

He was done. They had come together, but time had run out. This was the mercy f*ck before she booted him out of wonderland. He pulled out, turned away and sat on the floor with his back to her, trying to pull on his clothes.

The air was thick with unsaid words.

He finally dared to look at her. Still pale, but her lips and nipples were a hot rosy pink.

“Come home with me,” he said, because he just couldn’t help it.

She got up and took down a faded green robe. Wrapped it around herself.

“No,” she said. “Go. We’re done here.” Her voice was hard.

He picked up her coat. Hung it up on the hook where he had hung his own, and reached into his pocket for the little thing, small and hard between his fingertips.

The tracking tile that’d been on his Delaunay painting. What to do with it had come to him the second she handed the thing to him back at his house.

So obvious, so necessary. No one could fault him for it.

He adjusted the folds of Caro’s coat, and slipped the tile into her pocket. He could not let her disappear into nowhere, knowing that she was in danger.

She stood so straight and unrelenting, her arms crossed over her chest. Not another word from her. She was just waiting for him to get lost.