Page 13 of Guarded (Hopeless Blessed #3)

Jeremiah

L ike last time, I arrived two hours before Noah. I couldn’t help it. It was like my soul physically dragged me out of my house and into the sky, then plunked me down on the pavement in front of the restaurant we’d agreed to meet at.

Thankfully it was the middle of the day, which meant there were plenty of tables available.

Sitting there and drinking glass after glass of water had to be better than lurking on the pavement, right?

It was less likely to get the police called, anyway.

Not that that would’ve been an issue per se…

but Noah rocking up to find me compelling a load of officers who were trying to arrest me for loitering?

That didn’t scream ‘great dating potential.’

Not that this was a date. Noah had been clear about that.

It was a friendly meetup. A chance to get to know one another better. To try and persuade the incessant ache in our chests to ease for a little longer.

Noah didn’t need to worry about me getting the wrong idea about us getting too close. He’d made it clear by not messaging me for almost a whole month.

I wasn’t certain about the etiquette surrounding mobile phones.

It had taken several lessons from Quill for me to get the hang of simple things like texting.

He might not leave the house, but he’d embraced all the wonders of modern technology.

Late at night, I’d hear him chatting to fuck knew who while he gamed.

He wasn’t happy, but he was surviving. Sometimes that was the best you could hope for.

While I wasn’t sure of the etiquette, I was pretty fucking certain Noah should’ve replied at least once.

But he hadn’t.

The knowledge had haunted me around every historic site I’d visited. Whispering in my ear while I’d been high in the air above Lesbos. Flashing across the mountains in Cyprus.

Noah’s ignoring you.

Like I needed the reminder.

I’d half expected him to renege on our agreement to meet. That hadn’t stopped me returning to London a week ago, just in case I’d been wrong. He hadn’t responded after my final message. I tried not to take it personally. Noah had been firm on his boundaries, and I wanted to respect them.

Even if my demon would rather I hunt him down, kidnap him, and hold him hostage until he agreed to the mating bond.

I’d let my demon rule me for far too long.

In Hell, it had been a necessity, a method of survival.

If I gave myself over to my demon, it was another layer of protection between my soul and the acts I was forced to carry out.

I didn’t need that armour here on earth.

My demon had no place in this quiet restaurant, or even in the friendship I was hopefully going to build with Noah.

I checked my phone for the thousandth time, relieved to see there were only a few minutes left until he was due.

The pull hadn’t been easy to ignore, but I’d managed.

The distractions of the various sights I’d seen had helped.

But having a plan to see him again had helped more.

A month was nothing to an immortal. The blink of an eye, really.

These past few weeks had made me realise what it was to be human. To desperately wish the time away.

The knowledge that I’d be seeing Noah shortly had the ache in my chest easing. Soon, I’d be mesmerised by his expressive eyes. Reminding myself of the exact lines of his smile. Filling my lungs with the sweet and spicy scent that trailed after him.

It had been a long four weeks.

The door swung open and there he was. My cheeks protested at the smile that appeared, the muscles complaining about being forced into use after lying dormant for the past month.

I’d enjoyed myself, but I hadn’t found much to smile about. It was too hard when your soul was constantly telling you that you were in the wrong place.

I jumped to my feet, this time managing not to knock my chair over. Points for me.

If asked, I would’ve claimed I was being gentlemanly. Those who knew me would tell you I was anything but. No, I stood so I could drink Noah in properly.

And because it put me the tiniest bit closer to him.

I was ridiculous, it was true. But so long as no one else learned how fucking gone I was already, it’d be fine.

Especially Noah. If I didn’t get these heart eyes under control, he’d be back out the door before we had a chance to even exchange hellos. I didn’t know what had happened to make him so guarded, but I planned on finding out.

Noah was wearing a pastel tank top today in some kind of gauzy material. It hung loosely on his frame, the deeply scooped underarms revealing hints at the flesh underneath. The lithe yet chiselled flesh.

When my gaze dipped south, I almost expired on the spot. Noah had opted for low rise jeans. So low rise, in fact, that I could easily make out the fine blue lace on both of his hips. With each step he took, his shirt swayed from side to side, giving me tantalising glimpses of what lay beneath.

It was another entry on my list.

Noah likes lace.

Holy fuck. I hadn’t considered it before, but now I couldn’t picture him in anything else. Image after image rushed through my brain, each more tempting than the last.

Noah in blue hot pants, the lace cupping his bulge like a lover would. Like I would.

Black panties, dark as night. I’d trace the line of the attached suspenders with my tongue. My fingers would meet my mouth at the tops of the stockings, working together to reveal his sinuous legs.

A corset. Satin and lace. So many ties that I wouldn’t have the patience to undo them. I’d marvel at how my hands looked around his slender waist as he rode me into oblivion.

Noah on his front, red lace a hot line between his cheeks. I wouldn’t even pull it aside before burying my face there. Just lick straight through the material until Noah was screaming my name and begging me to take him.

I was brought back to reality by the scent of smoke.

“Shit,” I muttered. Flames were licking the tablecloth around me. Small enough to have escaped the notice of the other patrons, but potent enough to have them sniffing the air.

Hastily unleashing my power, I doused them. Balls. Those were definitely scorch marks. How the fuck was I going to explain that to the staff?

We definitely couldn’t eat here again, that was for sure.

Noah was only a few steps away now. Panic filled me as I surreptitiously flapped my hands, trying to disperse the scent.

From the smirk he gave me as he drifted close, it was pointless. “Having a little trouble, Jeremiah?”

“It’s all your fault,” I grumbled. Well, I tried. I was so fucking happy to see him that it came out teasing and lilting instead. I hoped I’d never be required to intimidate anyone with Noah around. It’d be the least scary interaction in history.

I moved around the side of the table towards Noah, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Should I embrace him? Shake his hand? Chuck him over my shoulder and spirit him away?

Thankfully, Noah took the choice away from me before I did something stupid. One of his hands rested on my waist briefly as he brushed his lips over my cheek. Heat seared through me in both spots, lingering long after he pulled away.

“I’ve had men tell me I’m hot before, but no one’s literally burst into flames at my appearance,” Noah said as he took his seat and smirked. “It’s quite the compliment.”

I dropped into my own chair, giving him a wry smile. “Keep wearing those sinful garments and I’m sure it’ll happen more often.”

One of his delicate brows arched. “I’ll admit, it’s been a while since I’ve read a holy text, but I don’t think a tank top and jeans can be considered sinful garments. ”

“They could with the way you wear them,” I muttered. “But I wasn’t talking about them. I was referring to the scrap of lace that kept flashing at me like a fucking siren.”

Noah’s hand froze halfway to picking up the menu. His tongue flicked out over his lower lip. “You like lace?”

“I like you in lace.”

“You barely saw anything.”

“I saw enough.” I reached down and pointedly rearranged my still aching cock. “Let’s just say my imagination filled in the gaps.”

“I see.” Noah cleared his throat, opening his menu to hide his face.

He didn’t do it fast enough though. I caught the dilation of his pupils and the delicate pink flush across his cheekbones.

Even with the menu in the way, I could hear his elevated heartbeat.

How his breaths were coming unnaturally fast.

Noah wants me.

It was another item for the list, but not one that mattered. Not when he was going to such pains to hide it from me.

“Have you eaten here before?” I asked, offering him an easy out. “I’m torn between two dishes.”

“Oh, yes.” Noah seized upon it gratefully, lowering his menu and offering me a polite smile. “Which ones?”

We fell into an easy conversation about food. I let him order for me when the waiter approached, taking it on faith that if he liked it, I would do. Seemed like a safe strategy.

While we waited for our food to arrive, Noah peppered me with questions about my travels.

I told him about the fresh octopus I’d eaten in Mykonos that had been dried by the sun.

The sunrise in Santorini that had made all the white houses appear a delicate shade of pink.

How the heat in Athens had almost rivalled that of Hell, especially as I climbed the steep hill to the Acropolis.

“Do you know the statues and friezes from there are in the British Museum?” Noah said darkly.

“I do.” I shook my head. “Doesn’t seem right at all. Maybe we should steal them and fly them back. It’d take us a few days to get all of them, but it’d be worth it.”

The smile Noah gave me had been worth the offer. “So, there is a little demon inside you. I was starting to wonder.”

I gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”