Broken hearts are better left broken.
That has been my motto for the last seven years.
I keep everyone out. Even the music that beats through me.
Until I meet Noah Taylor.
He cracks the ice.
Brings music back to my life.
He makes me believe my dreams are within my grasp.
But the ghosts of my past refuse to stay put.
And they might put out the fire inside of me forever.
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I run into my apartment and grab the things I need from my shower before heading to Noah’s house. Brutus greets me with a wagging stub of a tail and a slobbery grin as I walk in. I give him a few pats on the head and scratch behind his ears before looking around Noah’s home.
It feels weird to be in here alone. Two days ago when he let me shower here, he was in the house so it was just an easy, quick trip in and out.
But now that I am alone, I can’t help but snoop around. His house is a work in progress. He told me as much last time I was here but it feels lifeless. An old worn leather couch sits in front of a giant television. There are a few empty beer cans on a coffee table and a dirty plate. But there are no pictures anywhere, no knick-knacks or collectibles of trips or memories. I walk into the gorgeous sunroom I’ve always admired from the outside on the side of the house and it is completely empty. No furniture, no plants, just a lonely, empty room.
He has a guest bedroom on the first floor and that too is empty. The guest bathroom is under construction. His kitchen is a mess. Half-finished cabinets, no countertop, old appliances that need a good deep cleaning. The only room in his house that is finished is his bedroom.
I climb the stairs, admiring the beautiful skylight that gives so much light to the wall during the day. I know he has a few brothers but why no pictures of them on the walls? This is a bachelor pad but this house has no life to it.
I enter his room and go straight to the bathroom. I turn on the water, letting the steam fill the room. I take my clothes off and throw them into a plastic garbage bag. The second I step into the shower I immediately feel relaxed as the rain showerhead beats water onto my neck and back. I groan at the feeling, finally feeling a bit calmer after such an intense day.
I reach for my body wash, foregoing the habit of washing my hair first. I just want to get the smell of beer and vomit off me. I douse myself in soap, the lemony sweetness of my shower gel making me feel better by the second. I start to wonder how long I’ve been in the shower, so I quickly finish up so I can get out of Noah’s house before he returns.
I turn off the water and grab one of his towels. For a man, he sure knows how to buy good towels. They are oversized and fluffy and warm. I wrap myself up and grab the lotion I brought over. I throw my leg up on the vanity and massage it into my leg.
The bathroom door opens and I scream, dropping my towel to the ground. Noah stands in the doorway, looking about as mortified as I feel.
And I am not the only one naked.
Noah is completely nude and I once again find myself staring at him. When he was shirtless in my bathroom, I felt my cheeks getting pink. He is the perfection of a man, all thick corded muscle, washboard abs, and that V leading down to what I now see probably gives Adonis a run for his money.
I can feel my chest turning red, my cheeks burning hot. He has to be six inches and he isn’t even hard. And it’s just as thick as the rest of his body. Oh god, what does it look like hard?
I’m so mesmerized by his dick I forget that my towel fell and I am standing stark naked. I stutter over words as I pick up the towel off the floor and wrap it around me.
I run toward the bathroom door and Noah slides to the side. I run down the stairs and across the driveway into my apartment. I slam the door behind me and slide down.
That was so mortifying.
July 23: DAY TAKEOVER The Next Step PR Blogger/Reader Group
July 24: 8 PM Belle’s Book Talk
July 29: Sisters Get Lit(erary)
Tori Fox is the author of contemporary romance with a little bit of angst and a whole lot of sexy. Besides writing you can find her curled up on the couch with her dog reading a book, yelling at the TV during a hockey game or at a karaoke bar singing her heart out. No matter where she is there will always be a bottle of champagne near. Tori lives above the clouds with her husband in the Rocky Mountains.