It Started with a Crack by Piper James

Chapter Sixteen

Noah

Icouldn’t stop thinking about that fucking kiss. It had been days, and it was still flashing through my mind on repeat, breaking my concentration at work and keeping me awake at night. I was practically useless, but thankfully, my brothers hadn’t noticed. They were used to me going through restless phases.

It happened a lot in L.A. I’d get distracted by some random woman and be useless for a few days until the novelty wore off. I was sure the others thought that was what was happening now. And while that was partially true—my current predicament did revolve around a woman—this was different.

Dakota wasn’t some flavor of the week I would be obsessed with for a few days, then drop like yesterday’s Chinese takeout. She was different. She was…more.

And she was totally uninterested.

I’d tried to play it so cool the morning after that kiss. I’d made her breakfast, tried to act normal, and waited for her to bring it up. I didn’t want to force her into a conversation she wasn’t ready to have, and honestly, if she was going to shoot me down, I didn’t want to hear it at all.

She’d acted weird at first. Nervous. Slightly disgruntled. But by the time she finished eating, she seemed to come to some sort of decision. And apparently, that decision was to act like the night before had never happened.

I was fairly certain she remembered the kiss—she hadn’t been that drunk. But it seemed as though she wanted to forget it, so I’d tried to let it go. I hadn’t mentioned that night at all, despite the fact that it was the only thing I’d thought of since.

How amazing she tasted. How much I wanted to see what the rest of her tasted like. How I wanted to bury my face between her legs and—

“Hey, are you hungry?”

My entire body startled as Dakota swept into the living room. Her question aligned so perfectly with my dirty thoughts, it was almost freaky. I tamped down the errant, ridiculous belief that she’d heard my thoughts and was offering herself up as a feast.

“Sure, I could eat,” I said, internally flinching at the crack in my voice.

“Pizza okay? I’ve been craving it all day.”

I know all about cravings.

I pushed down the thought and said, “Pizza sounds great. I’ll order.”

“Thanks, Noah,” she said.

The sound of my name whispering through her lips made my dick twitch. Her soft smile made my heart pound. That stretch of bare skin between her shirt and jeans made my blood heat.

Jesus!

I jumped up from the couch and strode past her, angling my body in the opposite direction so she wouldn’t see the fucking erection I got from looking at her and talking about pizza. She followed behind me, grabbing two beers from the fridge and twisting the tops off before handing me one as I dialed the pizza place.

She grabbed a handful of napkins and a couple of plates before heading back into the living room. Once I finished placing our order, I chugged half my beer and got my dick under control before joining her. When I plopped down onto the opposite end of the couch, she held her bottle toward me. I clinked the neck of mine against it, and she smiled.

“I know I was leery of living here with you,” she said, her smile never faltering, “but I’m glad I agreed to it. I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Me, too,” I said, forcing a smile even as she shoved the knife a little deeper into my heart.

“You’re a good roommate, too.”

“Likewise,” I choked out before clearing my throat and taking a long swig of my beer.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her features twisting with concern.

“Yeah. I’m good,” I lied, and she cocked her head.

“Are you sure? Because if there’s something bothering you, I’d like to know. This is your house, and I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

“What? No!” I shouted, then took a breath to calm myself. “I mean, no, you’re not wearing out your welcome. I like being here with you.”

There was a little bit too much honesty in that statement, but Dakota didn’t seem to notice. She just smiled and took another drink of her beer. Stretching, she reached over to set her bottle on the side table. Her shirt rode up, baring even more skin to the point where I could see the lacy band of her bra. Her red bra.

Fuck. Me.

I diverted my eyes, focusing on the television show I’d been not watching when she came in to see if I wanted pizza. My breathing was shallow and too fast, and I had my hands clenched into fists as I resisted the urge to yank her into my lap.

She just fucking told me how happy she was we were friends. And roommates. She didn’t want me, and I was torturing myself.

I needed to get this shit under control before I did something stupid and ruined everything. For good. Because despite how much I wanted her, I loved having her as a friend, too. And I didn’t want to lose her.