Page 118 of Almost Ravaged

“Hey. Didn’t know you were tagging along tonight,” Noah says by way of greeting.

Neither did I.

But when Sawyer mentioned it, I insisted on coming, too. Now that we’re here, and given the heavy conversation that just transpired, I’ve got all sorts of questions for my oldest friend.

Like why my graduate assistant is so interested in the details of his life.

Or why she looked horrified for a moment when she believed he was married.

Her question regarding my relationship with Noah was a valid one. She’s so fucking perceptive. I had my tongue inside her four days ago, so it’s only fair that she wants to know whether I’m involved with anyone else. I’m not, nor do I intend to be for as long as she’ll have me. I can’t fathom hooking up with anyone else when she infiltrates my every waking thought and has for weeks.

I make a mental note to have that conversation sooner rather than later.

Except—what the fuck am I thinking, and who the fuck am I? And how would I feel if she didn’t want to be exclusive?

All week, I’ve caught myself entertaining questions I have no right to think or ask. I’m not in a committed relationship with this woman. We’ve only recently begun tolerating each other. But I can’t deny my attraction or how intense it’s become. My desire for her beats hard and fast in my chest. Sitting in the car with her alone was enough to leave me with a hard-on and an obsessive fixation with all the patchy holes in her loose denim jeans.

I give Noah a quick nod, then step around him and throw my bag down near the front door.

As I turn back, I’m at the perfect angle to watch Sawyer greet him.

She’s beaming, smiling so big the skin around her eyes crinkles and that pretty pink blush I love so much paints her cheeks.

Noah, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable. His shoulders are shrugged up to his ears, and already, he’s removed his burnt-orange cap and is scraping a hand through his hair.

He’s nervous. He’s fucking nervous. Because of her.

“Hi.” She gives him a tiny wave, her attention singularly focused on him.

He mutters a greeting in response, something along the lines of “How are you?” before placing the hat back on his head.

With his hands free, he reaches out for her, though he quickly pulls back.

But I catch the move. Sawyer must notice, too.

She shifts forward an inch, then catches herself and freezes, sinking her teeth into that plush bottom lip I’ve been dreaming about since she had her mouth on my cock.

When she moves closer again, he mirrors the movement. Her arms lift, and then his shoulders twitch. She places one foot in front of the other. He stands taller.

That’s when my tolerance snaps. I clear my throat, making them both jump back, and glare at them, forcing them to awkwardly acknowledge whateverthatjust was.

With an uncomfortable laugh, Noah turns toward me. But he doesn’t meet my eye.

Busted.

“So, um.” Sawyer brushes both hands down her legs. She looks at me, then back at Noah. “Where’s Shiloh tonight?”

An embarrassed huff escapes him. “In her kennel. She’s settled in for the night.”

A small smile teases Sawyer’s pretty mouth as she quietly cracks the knuckles on one hand. She’s clearly reaching to keep the conversation going when she lobs another question his way.

“And how’s the hive?”

A genuine, delighted smile spreads over my best friend’s face.

A smile I know. A smile I miss. A smile I haven’t seen from him in far too long.

He shoves his hands into his pockets.