RUSH (City Lights, #3)(75)
Finding nothing, she threw her arms around me and held me tightly; I could feel her heartbeat crashing against mine.
“You’re okay,” she said against my shoulder. “You’re okay,” over and over, and I was too stunned to do anything more than hold her until she calmed down.
Charlotte led us into an all-night diner that smelled like old grease and burnt coffee, and we called the police.
“I have my purse,” Charlotte said dully when I asked how she still had her phone. “I tripped on it when you told me to run and just…grabbed it. I wasn’t thinking clearly or I would have taken your wallet too. Or your white stick and tried to help. But I didn’t help. I could hardly move, I was so scared…”
The cops came to us and we made a statement. Charlotte described the junkie who’d robbed us, while I stewed in anger, regret, and the unassailable knowledge that I had failed her completely.
The officers didn’t sound hopeful. There was no way to track the violin down through the pawnshops as most wouldn’t take stolen goods off a junkie, but the cops promised to put a call out anyway. I almost told them not to bother. The violin was as good as gone and we all knew it.
The police took us back to the townhouse—my second ride in the back of a cruiser in a week. We stepped into the foyer and Charlotte threw every lock on the door, her breath coming in shaking little sighs.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” I said gruffly. “I f*cked up.”
“What? How?”
“I lost you your violin.”
“God, Noah, I don’t care. Tomorrow, maybe, I’ll mourn it, but right now…”
Yes, right now I could hardly think of anything but Charlotte and the fact that she was alive and unhurt and here with me. I took her by the shoulders and pulled her to me fiercely, holding her as a torrent of emotions rushed out of my chest. Now that the danger was over, the enormity of what might have happened swamped me. If that man had touched her, hurt her…
“You should have run. You would have been safe.”
“I should have left you?” She shook her head against me. “Impossible. And I am safe. I feel safe with you.”
It was exactly what I needed to hear. It made me feel whole, when I knew I wasn’t. She made me feel as if I had a chance. Weeks ago, in a vain attempt to sort out my feelings for her, I’d written about her, the endless possibilities she brought to life in me. I’d thought it stupid then; I couldn’t even see the damn words on the page, but they were true. It was all true. The enormity of my feelings for Charlotte scared me more than a knife in the dark.
I kissed her softly, tasting the salt of her tears, but no more fell. Our kiss deepened, and I infused it with every emotion I was too afraid to speak, and when she moaned softly into my mouth I knew she felt everything I couldn’t say.
She broke away, breathlessly. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“You won’t be,” I whispered, stroking her hair, feeling the softness under my skin. “I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”
But for the first time in a very long time, I was nervous. She was to be my first since the accident, and I had no idea what would happen, how it would be different when I couldn’t see the woman beneath me. I’d have to rely on her sounds, her breath, every movement of her body; be attuned with her, so that I wouldn’t lose myself in a maelstrom of sensation. I worried I wouldn’t please her, that I’d humiliate myself, that all my poise and finesse from my old life was gone and I’d be reduced to something like a drunkard; fumbling and sloppy and finishing before she even began.
Charlotte put my hand on the crook of her arm, and drew me with her. Not to the stairs; she was taking me to her room in her living space—a place I’d never stepped foot in until now.
“My bedroom,” she said, and I heard the nervous lilt in her voice.
I stopped at the door, shocked at how my entire body reacted; a white hot flash of desire that surged through me. The room was suffused with Charlotte. Her perfumes, her soaps and shampoos, the scent of her on the bed…she was everywhere here, and my senses filled with her.
“Noah?”
“Slowly,” I managed, “or I won’t last a minute.”
“I’m not worried,” she said, pushing my jacket off my shoulders.
I caught one of her hands. “I am. You deserve everything.”
“I have everything.”
She led me to her bed and sat me down. It felt impossibly soft, and I imagined a white bedspread; I imagined everything white and cloudy, and hazy with the pleasant fog of her scent wafting around us. I felt her stand between my knees, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. I was painfully hard, and I wondered if she wanted me as badly. I hated I couldn’t see her face, and then she bent down and kissed me softly, wetly, and I felt her trembling.
“Noah.” Her breath was hot on my cheek. “Touch me. Please.”
My hands found her hips and I gripped them, anchoring myself to her. I rested my head against her soft, full breasts, nuzzled them gently.
The material wafted past my nose as she lifted off her dress, and then her warm skin was there. I leaned forward, kissing the space between her luscious breasts, my breath already turning ragged. Slowly! I took a deep, steadying breath.
“Your bra…”