Page 35 of One Killer Night

“Me?” I try and smile, swallowing hard, finally feeling my pulse again. “You’re sneaking around like a creeper. I could’ve killed you with my bare hands.”

She chuckles again like I’m joking. The knife twitches, nicking my thigh.

I eat the pain, keeping my mouth shut as she walks back inside.

“Well, Jason Bourne, your ex was making a ruckus outside your window. Which doesn’t open, by the way. You should fix that.”

She passes me into the kitchen, still breathing hard. I shift, keeping what I’m hiding hidden before closing and locking the door. My head’s still swirling, trying to process, finding success with each second.

“Anyway, I figured she was yours, so I snuck outside to introduce myself. You know, kitty to kitty. Didn’t want her sneaking in to shit in my shoe.” She chuckles at her own dirty joke. “I thought you heard me while you were spying on your neighbors from the window.”

“I didn’t see or hear you.”This is why you don’t bring women home, Noah.

The urge to double-check that what’s under the couch is still hidden scratches at my mind, but I keep my eyes trained on her.

She shrugs. “Huh, must’ve been the car alarm.”

I’m smiling with as much sincerity as I can muster, but it’s fake because I’m still teetering on the edge.

“Yeah, it was nothing.”

I follow Goldie around the kitchen island, then quietly slide the knife back into where it belongs when she turns away from me. My face lifts to hers as she opens the fridge, lighting up the room.

“Why are you up, anyway?” She looks over her shoulder to my fingers, still on the tip of the knife’s handle. I let go, leaning against the counter nonchalantly.

“Midnight snack,” I lie while she hands me a water before she gets her own.

I twist the top. But then she smiles, and the magic of it makes me remember our previous plans.

It restarts my focus, letting me be Noah again.

She bites her lip. “I could eat ... if you’re offering.”

I smirk, letting my eyes drift over her, knowing I’m going to turn my white lie into the truth. Until an annoying meow between my feet drags my attention away.

“No way, troublemaker,” I groan, discarding my water. “You had your chance to be my one and only. Out—you’ve been replaced.”

I stand to walk past Goldie, back to the door, enjoying the sound of her laugh as she protests, “No, let her stay. I just went to all the trouble to smuggle her in. Plus, we’re friends now. And it’s cold out.”

I shake my head, but my eyes lock to hers just as her fingers skim my chest. “It looks like I’m her only friend, though. She got you here and somehow on the back of your leg too. There’s blood.”

My eyes drop to my chest, seeing the reddening scratches, knowing exactly what got the back of my thigh.

I grin. “In fairness, you threw her at me.”

Her eyes gleam, her smirk teasing. “In my defense, anything’s a weapon when someone sneaks up on you.”

“I live here,” I say flatly, grabbing her waist and making her squeal as I plop her down on top of the counter.

“Yeah, well ... I ...” Whatever retort she was hoping to sassify doesn’t make it off the tip of her tongue.

I raise my brows. “Done trying to win? ’Cause I’m suddenly starving.”

The smile on her face is bright enough to light the room, even though the goddamn fridge is still open. Fuck it, that’s one door that can stay that way.

We’re fixed on each other wordlessly before I start bunching my shirt up over her hips. She audibly inhales, licking her lips when I expose the fact that she’s not wearing underwear.

“I couldn’t find them,” she whispers.