Chapter 95

The book sailed through the air before I could fully register Noah's voice. It whizzed past his head, thudding against the wall.

Noah emerged from the doorway, hands raised placatingly. His gaze darted between the book on the floor and me, his mouth slightly open. We stared at each other for several excruciating moments. Finally, I whispered, "I was down the hall. I heard you call my name. Is everything okay?"

"I thought you were an intruder," I stammered, my towel slipping down my chest. "I didn't… I didn't know you were home."

Noah's brow furrowed. "If you thought I wasn't home, why did you call my name?"

I searched for an excuse, then slumped. "I don't know. I was frightened. Instinct, I suppose."

My cheeks flushed under his gaze. I was certain he'd interpret my admission as something deeper, and from the subtle softening of his expression, laced with smug satisfaction, he had.

He closed the distance between us until we were nearly chest to chest. I smelled his familiar cologne, the same scent from the bathroom earlier. My mouth went dry.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his gaze lingering on my body. Instinctively, I clutched the towel.

His lips quirked at my movement. He toyed with the loose edge of the towel, near my breasts. "You know… it's the night of our monthly intimacy, isn't it?" The words were heavy with insinuation as the towel slipped lower.

My breath hitched at the realization and the burning trail of his fingertip. The scent of his skin, his proximity, his body—it made my head spin. I wanted him.

But I needed to create distance before I did something regrettable. Just as his finger curled, ready to remove the towel, I regained control. I stepped back, jaw clenched.

"There's no need for that anymore," I said, sounding more confident than I felt. "Those nights are over."

Noah raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Is that so? And why is that?" He moved closer, his body almost enveloping me. His hand reached for my—

"—Unless you're finally pregnant?" he murmured, his breath ghosting over my lips.

The blood drained from my face. Then Noah laughed, louder this time. "I'm just messing with you," he said, tugging at his shirt. "No intruders in the house—not while I'm here."

He left the room. My towel slipped.