Siren

Chapter Eight

HE'S MOUTHWATERING, ITS UNFAIR. He's in black skinny jeans again and his flannel shirt is unbuttoned to reveal a white shirt that I can see right through to his inked torso. Not to mention his abs.

I am definitely going to need some type of alcohol to make it through this night. But not too much, there is no telling what I will do if I'm drunk at any point in time.

His eyes roam over my body as I take him in. I'm glad I didn't wear the low cut top, I don't know if I could deal with my body getting any more attention than what he's giving it. As his gaze reaches my face he licks his lips and smiles. I bite down on my lip as I smile right back. I can do this.

"Hello gorgeous, hungry?"

"Starving, I don't usually eat so late."

"Well I'm glad you have an appetite, let's go."

"Let me grab my bag. Make yourself comfortable." I walk away from him and can feel his gaze on my backside as the door closes. I reach the kitchen and compose myself before joining him in the foyer again.

"Ready." I say, standing straight as I put the bag on my shoulder. He smiles, taking me all in once more before grabbing my hand. His touch is like an electric shock to me but one I would willingly subject myself to.

There is a huge black Range Rover waiting at the curb when we get downstairs. He opens the passenger side door for me before taking the drivers side.

"So you never told me how you got my number." I say as he pulls onto the street. I look over at him and enjoy the profile view. His jawline is so sharp, I would love to press my lips right below his ears and lick down the straight lines of his jaw.

I shake my head. I need to stay away from these thoughts, as impossible as that is. There is a static energy in the car between us. It's sexual tension, I know it is. I should have danced with him last night. At least then I would know what it feels like to have his long body pressed against mine.

"I'm very good at getting what I want." He chuckles. I roll my eyes. Of course he is, I'm out with him aren't I? But the fact that he wanted my number bad enough makes me smile. He does want me.

"Of course." I look out the window as London flies passed us. "Where are we going?"

"My place. I'm making you dinner." He looks over at me for the first time since we climbed into the car. He gives me the best and worst smile ever. So many dirty intentions are behind that smile and I have to look away. I can't let him see my blush. I'm confident Noah tonight. The fact that he's taking me back to his place already doesn't scare her.

"Can you even cook?" I ask after recovering from the many images flashing across my mind of me being at his place.

"I'm a great cook."

"I'll decide that." He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes and I just smile with a wink.

See, I can do this.

We pull up in front of a high rise, probably one of the best residential buildings in the city. He hands his keys to a waiting valet and puts his hand on my lower back as he guides me into the building.

We take an elevator up to the thirty second floor, his hand never leaving contact with some part of me. The doors slide open and we are in a long hallway with three doors. We head to the one on the long wall and he pulls out a key to unlock it. He allows me to step through first and I take a long breath as I step through the dark paneled door.

The main room is barely decorated. There are few furnishings, a large couch takes up most of the square living room space and there is no kitchen table. I turn around, taking it all in. There are no pictures or plants to add some kind of personal touch.

"Nice place." I finally turn to him. He's watching me carefully, that brooding gaze that seems to stare into the deepest parts of me. I walk over to him and gently place my hand on his forearm as I walk past him and into the kitchen. I throw my purse on the counter and jump up onto the counter just as he walks into the room, hands pushed into the front pockets of his jeans. How they even fit in there, I don't know.

He takes his hands out of his pocket, his eyes not leaving me for a second. He brushes his fingers over his bottom lip and then walks toward me.

I know what his plan is so before he can step between my legs I stop him by kicking my leg up and stopping him. My heel presses into the middle of his chest and I give him a smile when he looks back up from my shoe against his chest.

"Oh you're going to help." There is a glimmer in his eyes that I should pick up on but don't. Before I know it, my foot is no longer against his chest and his hands are on my hips and he is standing right between my legs. He pulls my hips so that our bodies are pressed together. His erection is directly on me, our jeans a needed barrier.

My breathing is already labored and he knows exactly what he is doing. With one hand keeping ahold of my waist he puts his other hand on my jaw and pulls me toward him.

His lips press against mine slowly. His touch is like an electric shock originating from our lips and reaching every square centimeter of my skin.

He pulls away too quickly, giving me a knowing smirk. He puts both of his hands on my waist again and pulls me off the counter, placing me back on my feet gently.

"Let's get to work!" He slaps my behind before turning away and beginning to move through the kitchen. I watch him for a few minutes. He is so swift and controlled. He surprises me actually. Who would have thought that the mysterious guy from the bar last night would be whizzing around a kitchen to make a meal for me.

"Let's go, get dirty, Noah." He winks at me, grabs my hand and pulls me into his arms. "Don't just stand there looking at me, it's distracting."

He presses his lips to my forehead and then let's me go as he starts shouting out commands. I throw my leather jacket off and over my purse. He gives me a ton of vegetables to start cutting up. I tie my hair up and do as I'm told. I can feel his eyes on me every so often as we work on the kitchen side by side. And I take a few risky chances to look at him as well. It's like I can't stop looking at him and I don't know why.

Well. I know why. Watching him boiling pasta turns me on. And he's fully clothed. I can't even begin to imagine if any of those pieces of cloth fell off of him.