The Note (Manhattan Nights #5) - Natalie Wrye Page 0,17

as he walks me over to the back bathroom, his nimble fingers wrapped firmly around the skin at my arm.

His large stature towers over me when he stops two feet shy of the door. His blue eyes slant as he eyes me carefully.

“I’m going to re-heat the rest of the coffeepot. Call out or knock twice on the door, if you need me.”

“I know I won’t. So, don’t try anything while I’m in there,” I warn. “Because it won’t work.”

“I thought we went through this already, Little Bear.” He sighs wearily. “If you’re looking for a serial killer, you’re out of luck. But if you’re looking for a simple man, like I said, then that’s what you’ve found. And I’ll make it clear, Little Bear. Once and for all…”

He lowers his chin. “I did want to fuck you tonight. I did want to sleep with you.” He blinks. “I did want to fuck you so hard you’d forget your name. So long you forgot time. So good that both wouldn’t matter. Until you learned the true meaning of screaming my name.”

My breath can’t help but hitch. The butterflies that have taken flight in my stomach the minute I entered Big Bad’s apartment are now caught in my throat, and I can’t speak or even move.

Not if I wanted to.

He inches closer, inclining even nearer, and as I lose what little breath is left in my body, the flutter in my throat traveling between my legs as he leans in, he presses his lips so slightly—so very slightly—together as his eyes search my face.

But then he reaches for the doorknob right beside me, turning it.

A dim light from inside the dark bathroom flickers on, and his gaze flits from inside back to my face, a glint of sorrow in his dark ocean blue eyes. He bites his bottom lip.

“But I won’t. Not tonight. Not until you’re sober—and much less disgusted with me—to enjoy it.” He nods towards the smaller room. “The bathroom’s all yours.”

He takes a step back, walking around me back into the living room. My Knight in Shining Chanel heads back to the kitchen, to the coffeepot, I presume, but I don’t really register a single thing.

The minute I’m inside, I fall to the plush rug beside the bathroom toilet, digging my fingernails to the surface. Laying my face flat on the comfy floor, I let the haze of tequila take me under, those black circles from the couch now back, clouding my vision until there’s nothing more.

And the entire world goes dark.

Chapter 5

NOAH

Saturday morning

It was a night of firsts. For me, anyway.

And I’m not sure how I fucking feel.

It was the first night I’ve spent with a woman without sleeping with her.

It was the first time I’ve carried a sleeping woman to bed without lying next to her.

And it’s the first morning that I’ve gone on a run for breakfast…for a person who wasn’t me.

Because “me” didn’t eat last night. Or at least, I didn’t eat the thing I wanted most. Which happened to be situated between my sultry ballsy brunette’s legs.

Starvation takes on a new meaning after the night I just spent.

Waking from my couch was also a first after conceding my bed to Miss Little Bear.

At five thirty in the morning like clockwork, I woke like the rising of the New York sun, my floor-length curtains still closed.

I dressed for the gym and attacked it like a maniac. And at six-thirty found myself wandering back inside my apartment, my steps light as I tried to avoid waking what was now Little Miss Sleeping Bear.

I snuck into the shower, needing the steam.

The second I was inside, the lust I’d tempered all night took hold of me, and I couldn’t help but wrap my fingers around my naked cock, gripping tight.

The tension that was in my body from holding back with my new house guest was at nuclear levels, and it took everything in me not to slam my hand against the marble shower wall, wrench my knuckles right into the surface.

I took the punishment out on my dick instead, stroking it into oblivion and with hot water beating on my naked back, scalding my hair and skin, I practically painted the walls with my orgasm, the need to be inside the sexy waitress so visceral—so wanton, so unexpected—that I swear I could feel the desire even in my knees.

The session at the gym might have worn me out. But masturbating to the woman in my bed fucking