TieD Up For Christmas

He watched her, this woman, his next-door neighbor. She was very unexpected and he hated surprises. He hated disruptions. This woman had disrupted his plans for the night.

And he was disappointed that she was here, just like the other women who came to his apartment.

But of course, he'd known she lived next door. For two years, he knew he had a neighbor. But it was only a few months ago that he finally got to see her face. Many things didn't surprise Noah, but that day, he was very surprised.

He didn't know her name, not that he cared about names, but after the day he finally saw her for the first time, he knew her nightly schedule.

He knew when the soft tap-tap of her typing stopped, usually around midnight or later, and he knew the sounds of frustration she made when things weren't going well because of the noise that regularly came from his apartment.

He knew she liked the silence of the night for work, and he knew his life choices made that impossible.

Even with how late she worked into the night, she still got up by five a.m. for a run, before preparing for work.

He'd caught quick glimpses of her in the hallway. A tailored dark blue blazer, a serious posture, a bag. The epitome of calm and controlled.

But the woman standing before him now, late on a cold December night, was something else entirely. She was trembling slightly, visible even beneath the thick wool of her coat.

His gaze, trained by years of observation and necessity, took her in with brutal efficiency, noting details she probably thought were hidden by her glasses and her professional veneer.

She had a mass of curly black hair, thick and untamed, that fell past her shoulders and stopped around the middle of her back, providing a stark contrast to the severe way she usually styled and pulled it back for work.

Her skin was a beautiful, soft, warm tan, currently flushed with mortification, making the smattering of freckles across her nose almost invisible.

Her eyes, almond-shaped and wide with a mix of anxiety and defiance, were a rich honey brown, not boring brown, but warm, liquid gold that threatened to spill over.

And her lips. They were full, naturally pouty, and currently wet where she'd nervously licked them before delivering her astonishing request.

With how stable she was, Noah guessed she was thirty-something, a professional, completely out of his range, but here she was, offering herself up with the straightforwardness of a seasoned negotiator.

(I want you to fuck me.)

He held the silence, testing her resolve. He saw the way her hands clenched into fists in her pockets, the way her breath hitched once, twice.

He watched her fighting a losing battle against the need to apologize or flee. He liked the tension in her stance, the internal war she waged in herself, between the lawyer who demanded control and the woman who was finally, desperately, going for something that she wanted.

She wasn't like the other women who came here to forget, to revel, to lose themselves in the noise. This one was here to find something, perhaps the control she claimed to want, or perhaps the release that had eluded her.

He gave her the smallest acknowledgment, the slight tilt of the lips, as he stepped aside to let her in. He didn't need to speak.

His apartment was a black hole of mystery, instantly confirming everything Ava suspected about him: he was a creature of the night, shrouded in shadow and silence. The only light source came from a lamp at the far corner of his living room.

Momentarily, Ava paused to wonder how Noah could afford to live in a building like this. He was probably the

only guy in his twenties who lived here. She hadn't met most of the tenants, but by her calculations, everyone who resided here was well into their thirties and working some big corporate job.

It was one of the most expensive apartment buildings in San Francisco. Were his parents some kind of billionaires?

Noah turned to face her after she made to enter his apartment, and her breath stuttered. She forced herself to look away from the dangerous expanse of his bare chest and into the darkness beyond.

What she was about to do felt less like entering an apartment and more like crossing a continental divide. She was leaving the safe, organized world of Ava Sinclair, Esq., for the terrifying, obscure world of Noah.

He remained leaning against the doorframe, a sculpture carved from granite and heat, still watching her with those piercing, moss-green eyes. They felt ancient, like he had seen this scenario play out a thousand times before...which, of course, he had.

Ava palmed her face mentally.

She wasn't the first woman to come through his door and she certainly wouldn't be the last. That gave her some kind of relief. It meant that when Noah was done with her tonight, she'd be easily forgotten as he moved onto the next girl.

In that moment, he was as mysterious and unknowable as a black hole; dark, distant, and capable of gravitational pull strong enough to destroy her.

She took another unsure step forward, fully entering his apartment.

"Wait," she whispered, her voice barely audible as a thought suddenly came to her. She reached up a hand, steadying herself against the doorframe she had just passed. "I'm prepared to compensate you for your time."

It wouldn't bode well for her as a lawyer if she walked away without paying Noah for his services. He might be offering it to other women for free, but it wouldn't change anything for her.

Noah straightened slowly, pushing off the doorframe. The movement was fluid, controlled, and utterly mesmerizing. He took one step toward her, closing the small gap between them, and the air immediately thickened, smelling faintly of expensive soap, and something dark and purely masculine.

He was intimidatingly close now. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back sharply to meet his eyes. Close enough that she could feel the faint radiation of heat coming off his body.

He finally spoke. His voice was deep, a low rumble that vibrated in her chest, just as rough and commanding as the few syllables she'd heard through the wall earlier.

"How much?" There was a rough accent to his voice, but Ava couldn't place it.

Ava swallowed. She hadn't thought it through. How much was going to be enough? And if he truly came from a very rich household, then how much would be enough?

She mentally shook her head. No, there was no need to overthink. Her fear was momentarily superseded by professional pride. "Five hundred dollars, cash or transfer...whatever you need. I don't expect that there would be a repeat performance...unless mutually agreed upon."

Yes, that's right. Ava wasn't expecting to come back to his apartment but if Noah truly proved capable with

his bedroom skills then she might be tempted to come back for more.

Noah's eyes narrowed slightly, processing the figure. His expression remained neutral, but the intensity in his gaze was crushing.

He then lifted one of his large, strong hands and gently, with a kind of care that didn't suit his demeanor, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. The casual intimacy of the gesture shocked her system.

His fingers were warm against her nose, rough-looking but tender in their movement.

"Keep your money," he murmured, his voice cutting through the silence like velvet-wrapped steel.

Ava's jaw dropped slightly. "What? No. I...I insist on payment. This isn't a favor, and I'm sure you need money, even though you look like you're doing okay for yourself."

"I said keep it," he repeated, his tone firm and annoyed, leaving no room for argument. "I don't take charity." His eyes dropped to her lips again for a dangerous second.