familiar with when I've stared at him.
I lean closer to him on the bed, not caring that my breasts have popped out from beneath the sheet that he draped over me. "You were stabbed?" My voice is barely audible as I study his body, noticing the thin raised scars that transverse his shoulder, his arm and his chest.
He only nods in response. "It was easy to cover these." His chin tilts down. "Not so easy to cover this." The hand that is still resting on his cheek quivers slightly.
"You hide because of that?" I want desperately to reach out to cover his hand with my own but I can't do that. I won't allow myself to get that close to him. I know that he can't be vulnerable. I know that he doesn't want to be.
"It's not hiding." There's no anger in his tone, only quiet clarification. "It's a reminder of something I'll never have again."
"What?"
He pulls his lips into a thin line. "I chase perfection. It's why I'm the way I am."
Before this conversation I'd absorb that statement as swollen arrogance but not now. "You want perfection because you don't think you'll ever be perfect?"
"I used to be." He sounds distant. "I'm not now."
"No one is." It's not only the right thing to say, it's the truth. In his convoluted, world famous photographer mind he may think he was once perfect, but that's simply not true. Hasn't anyone ever told him that before?
"I once was." He stalls as his eyes scan my face. "I once was as perfect as you."
Chapter 15
"I'm far from perfect." I smile broadly. "Very, very far."
"I chose you for my show because you're perfect. Everything about you speaks to me in that way." It's meant to be a compliment. At any other moment, I'd completely absorb it that way. I want to absorb it that way. I want it to bear the meaning that it's meant to but it doesn't. The words are clouded by the fact that he made a conscious decision not to make love to me when I was tied to his bed; my body was literally dripping with wanton and tangible desire for him.
"If I was perfect you would have fucked me," I say clearly. The words sound brash and violent coming from my lips. There's an undeniable attack within them. It's not directed towards him as much as myself. The rejection that I felt that night mirrored what I'd been feeling for weeks after my lover in Paris chose to unhinge me emotionally by tricking me into seeing him with the woman who owned his heart. His public display of affection destroyed all of my self-esteem and being denied Noah's body had only multiplied the emotional impact of that tenfold.
"I couldn't fuck you." He reaches across the bed to cover my hand with his. "I couldn't let myself do it."
"Why?" My voice is cracking because everything inside of me is suddenly off balance. I had vowed not to bring this up with him. I had promised myself that I wouldn't dwell on it and instead would show up, pose and get the hell out of his life.
"One taste of you unravelled me completely. If I would have fucked you that night that would have been the end of me."
"You're too dramatic," I say half-teasingly. I want the room to have more air. I need to have more space to think and feel. "You didn't fuck me because you wanted to take my picture."
"No." He slides his body from the floor into the bed next to me. "I didn't fuck you because I'd never let you go if I did."
"You're a horrible liar." I push myself to the very edge of the bed to try and gain distance from him and his sudden pronouncements of unending desire for me. What the hell happened when I fell asleep?
"I want you so badly, Alexa." His tongue darts across his lips as the words flow from them. "I really want you."
"You want me?" I push my ass even closer to the edge. I'm about ready to tumble out and onto the hardwood floor. "You don’t actually want me, Noah."
"I do." He edges closer. I can feel the warmth of his body radiating against mine.
I'm inches away from falling into him and his lips. I have to pull myself together and get out of here
I lean closer to him on the bed, not caring that my breasts have popped out from beneath the sheet that he draped over me. "You were stabbed?" My voice is barely audible as I study his body, noticing the thin raised scars that transverse his shoulder, his arm and his chest.
He only nods in response. "It was easy to cover these." His chin tilts down. "Not so easy to cover this." The hand that is still resting on his cheek quivers slightly.
"You hide because of that?" I want desperately to reach out to cover his hand with my own but I can't do that. I won't allow myself to get that close to him. I know that he can't be vulnerable. I know that he doesn't want to be.
"It's not hiding." There's no anger in his tone, only quiet clarification. "It's a reminder of something I'll never have again."
"What?"
He pulls his lips into a thin line. "I chase perfection. It's why I'm the way I am."
Before this conversation I'd absorb that statement as swollen arrogance but not now. "You want perfection because you don't think you'll ever be perfect?"
"I used to be." He sounds distant. "I'm not now."
"No one is." It's not only the right thing to say, it's the truth. In his convoluted, world famous photographer mind he may think he was once perfect, but that's simply not true. Hasn't anyone ever told him that before?
"I once was." He stalls as his eyes scan my face. "I once was as perfect as you."
Chapter 15
"I'm far from perfect." I smile broadly. "Very, very far."
"I chose you for my show because you're perfect. Everything about you speaks to me in that way." It's meant to be a compliment. At any other moment, I'd completely absorb it that way. I want to absorb it that way. I want it to bear the meaning that it's meant to but it doesn't. The words are clouded by the fact that he made a conscious decision not to make love to me when I was tied to his bed; my body was literally dripping with wanton and tangible desire for him.
"If I was perfect you would have fucked me," I say clearly. The words sound brash and violent coming from my lips. There's an undeniable attack within them. It's not directed towards him as much as myself. The rejection that I felt that night mirrored what I'd been feeling for weeks after my lover in Paris chose to unhinge me emotionally by tricking me into seeing him with the woman who owned his heart. His public display of affection destroyed all of my self-esteem and being denied Noah's body had only multiplied the emotional impact of that tenfold.
"I couldn't fuck you." He reaches across the bed to cover my hand with his. "I couldn't let myself do it."
"Why?" My voice is cracking because everything inside of me is suddenly off balance. I had vowed not to bring this up with him. I had promised myself that I wouldn't dwell on it and instead would show up, pose and get the hell out of his life.
"One taste of you unravelled me completely. If I would have fucked you that night that would have been the end of me."
"You're too dramatic," I say half-teasingly. I want the room to have more air. I need to have more space to think and feel. "You didn't fuck me because you wanted to take my picture."
"No." He slides his body from the floor into the bed next to me. "I didn't fuck you because I'd never let you go if I did."
"You're a horrible liar." I push myself to the very edge of the bed to try and gain distance from him and his sudden pronouncements of unending desire for me. What the hell happened when I fell asleep?
"I want you so badly, Alexa." His tongue darts across his lips as the words flow from them. "I really want you."
"You want me?" I push my ass even closer to the edge. I'm about ready to tumble out and onto the hardwood floor. "You don’t actually want me, Noah."
"I do." He edges closer. I can feel the warmth of his body radiating against mine.
I'm inches away from falling into him and his lips. I have to pull myself together and get out of here
Similar Books
