Chapter 13

More than Good

UNLIKE HER MODEST TWO-bedroom, two-bath apartment that shared a breezeway with three other units, Noah's condo in Brentwood occupied half of the entire top floor. It was warm and inviting, decorated in warm tones and with cozy furniture. There was light hardwood flooring and ceramic tile throughout, but each room had plush area rugs so thick she left footprints where she walked. They helped muffle the sound, which his downstairs neighbors had to appreciate.

"Make yourself at home. I have to make a call then I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

Sadly, not with him, so it seemed.

While he was occupied, she wandered around his living room, which had several floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the giant sycamores lining the street. They brought a touch of nature into his space along with shade, the full leafy branches filtering the light rather than allowing in the glaring bright sunshine. It gave the impression he lived in the woods rather than in the second largest metropolis in the US.

She trailed her fingers across the back of the woven upholstered couch, noticing the faint scent of vanilla and possibly sandalwood from an air freshener plugged into the wall. A framed photo on a bookshelf, one of the few personal touches in the room, caught her eye.

When she picked it up, she gazed at a much younger Noah in a tux, grinning at his bride. She was stunning, with long, straight blonde hair and blue eyes. She was also petite, contrasting with her own 5'9" frame, but she shared the same softly rounded curves.

"That's me and Claire, eight years ago, on our wedding day," he said, having come up behind her without her noticing.Maybe the rugs muffled the noise too well.

Where he'd bounced from angry to concerned before, his expression now looked closed off and guarded.

"You look happy."

"We were."

She glanced back at the picture, running her finger along the beveled edge of the frame. "She was beautiful, and curvy like me. It reminds me I owe you an apology for misjudging you and being... well, for lack of a better word, a bitch. I truly thought you had a disdain for... um, fluffy girls."

"I'm a physician and have studied the human body extensively. I find it fascinating, especially the female form, which, in my opinion, is beautiful no matter what size or shape."

"From my experience, you're a rare breed. Jordan said you called me Fat Fiona that night and worse, a fat—" She couldn't bring herself to say the C-word, but hearing the rest aloud reinforced how big a fool she was. Closing her eyes, she stifled a groan. "He lied, but I'm the idiot for believing him."

"You're not an idiot. And you're not fat. You're voluptuous, a body type that, as a dominant, I'm quite fond of. He picked up on your insecurities. You've heard comments like that before, haven't you?"

"Yes, although less foul than his. I despise the C-word. But they were still painful, starting back in the fourth grade with Gina Malloy."

"A ten-year-old mean girl," he stated with a sigh that said without words, what is this world coming to? His hands curled around her shoulders, and he turned her to face him. "Your self-esteem has taken a beating for a quarter of a century. It's understandable you'd have trust issues. As for Jordan, he clearly has a host of problems. Trey and I were having a drink that night when he joined us, uninvited. As you now know, he was the one who made the offensive, hurtful remarks."

"You looked angry. I thought it was directed at me for eavesdropping."

"Not at you, kitten. At him. His behavior pissed me off. You know humiliation of any kind is against club rules unless part of a negotiated scene."

"I can't believe there are women who actually enjoy that."

"We're all wired differently. It's not for us to judge another's kink, Fiona. And likewise, not for them to judge ours."

"Of course you're right," she replied to the gentle scolding.

"But when it is a kink, it's consensual. He didn't give you that respect, and I was seriously busting his nose for it."

"Fighting would have gotten you in trouble. That's another rule."

"Yes. But going after you is what stopped me. With the crowd, by the time I got outside you had vanished. To this day, I regret letting Eric talk me out of hunting him down for punishment."

"You did a good job when you had the chance."

"But only after he'd hurt you."

His words hung in the air, evoking a flood of bittersweet memories of Jordan's harsh cruelty and the solace she found in Noah's gentle touch. There were so many clues that should have convinced her of the truth. No matter his assurances to the contrary, she was an idiot.

He reached around her, took his wedding photo from her hands, and put it back in its place. That's when she noticed another frame one shelf below, of Noah and his wife, posing with a dark-haired, blue-eyed baby girl, no more than two.

They were the perfect little family, but no more.

"You lost both of them?" she asked stiltedly.

"Yes. Leah, my daughter, was two at the time."

"Oh, Noah. There are no words."

"This is true, which is why I prefer not to talk about it."

And preferred not to get involved beyond a scene or a single night. He'd lost a chunk of his heart that day. No. Two chunks. Five years later, he still hadn't recovered. Her heart ached for him and his loss.

"Follow me. I'll show you to your room, where you can rest," he said abruptly, as he turned and moved toward the hall.

She found herself alone, out of his reach for the first time since she'd arrived at Rossi seeking help.

"Fiona!" he called, his voice tinged with impatience when she didn't immediately follow.

"Coming," she called, sparing one last glance at the happy family in the photo. It explained so much.

She found him in a guest room, halfway down the hall. He handed her a T-shirt. "You can sleep in this."

The soft jersey knit had that just-washed fresh smell. She didn't think, probably because she was too tired to, and just began unbuttoning her shirt to change. Noah was on the move again and crossed the room to close the blinds on both windows.

"The trees shade this side of the building in the afternoon. Even on a sunny day like today, it should be dark enough in here to let you sleep."

He turned back just as her shorts hit the floor. Even though her club dresses exposed much more skin, standing before him in only her panties and his oversized shirt, which reached to mid-thigh, heat crept into her cheeks.

Clearing his throat, he said gruffly, "Let's get you tucked in." Then he pulled the covers down on the bed and patiently waited for her to climb in.

The queen-sized bed with three plump pillows and a cozy comforter was so inviting he didn't have to offer twice. When she stretched out, because it was as soft as it looked, she may have moaned just a little.

A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw as he covered her up to her neck then he surprised her by bending and gently kissing her forehead. "Sweet dreams, Fiona."

When he started to rise, she wrapped her hand around his forearm.

"Thank you for taking me in, Noah, and for everything you did this morning. It has all been so overwhelming. I'm not sure how I would have gotten through it without your help."

He grunted, a habit she'd noticed when she said something he took exception to or that made him uncomfortable. A confident, accomplished man uneasy with praise wasn't something she'd encountered before.

Hovering over her, eyes locked with hers, he didn't reply. Several anxious heartbeats passed.

"Is something wrong?"

Still, he remained silent.

A moment later, he sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh, as if he were as tired as she was.

"Quite the opposite," he finally admitted. "There's a pull between us. I felt it the first time I saw you, and I sure as hell felt it in our kiss the other night. Val and Esme identified commonalities between us. Ordinarily, I wouldn't put much stock in a matchmaking service, but Val seems to have a knack for reading people."

"What are you saying?"

He suddenly frowned. "I shouldn't be saying anything. I should let you rest."

But he didn't. Not yet. Instead, he leaned down and kissed her, this time on the lips. They were warm, gentle at first, then, as they lingered and brushed over hers again and again, grew more insistent, and his tongue swept inside. She slid her hands up his neck and over the short hair at the back of his head as it went on and on.

Not long after, he pulled away and looked down at her, his blue eyes searching hers. "We'll talk more later," he said at length. "For now, sleep, kitten."

She didn't want to wait until later. She wanted to discuss the pull they shared, and she wanted more kisses. After dozing off on the way home and struggling to stay awake all morning, would he think she magically got a burst of energy? But darn it all, she yawned at that precise moment.

He smiled, shifting quickly from amorous to amused, and ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. The touch was gentle and super sweet, from a dom who she'd watched flog a bound sub to orgasm on center stage at Decadence.

Unable to help it, she yawned again. And even though she desperately wanted to continue their conversation, she hadn't slept for two days. The coolness of the room, the comfortable bed, the cozy blanket, and the reassurance of her Rossi bodyguard's presence made her feel secure. As soon as her eyes drifted shut, she was out.

ALTHOUGH SHE SLEPTsoundly, her breathing deep and even, he cautiously left the room and took pains to close the door without a sound. Then, it was all he could do not to put his fist through the wall, his anger self-directed. How incredibly selfish was he to be focused on his own wants and needs when her life was being threatened and she trembled with exhaustion?

But it had been years since he'd felt the pull of a woman so strongly. And here she was under his roof, obviously attracted to him in return, and responding like a sponge eager to absorb even the slightest hint of dominance. When he carried her, she'd turned into him, trustingly, and her breath brushed his neck, her feminine scent surrounding him. Her soft curves molded to his body made him ramrod straight.

The timing was bad. She was in his care. It was his job to keep her safe, not fuck her when she was vulnerable.

If her yawn hadn't interrupted him, he might have claimed her then and there.

"Get ahold of yourself, Richmond," he muttered as he strode down the hall to the living room. "Business before pleasure," he further warned, stopping in the middle of the room to breathe and calm down.

Whenever he passed the bookshelf, his gaze connected with the photos of his wife and daughter, just like now. He hadn't done enough to protect them, but he'd be damned if he'd let Fiona down.