The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

he worked brought us closer to his inevitable departure. Two months ago, I would’ve relished in that knowledge, counted down the days until Noah was out of my life. Now the thought sent a jolt of panic straight through me.

I didn’t want him to go.

I ditched the hat and stepped out the front door, welcoming the blast of icy air, then blew out the candles inside the two jack-o’-lanterns the English club from the high school had given me. They’d carved them for Gran the last decade. A quick check of the snow-covered driveway told me we didn’t have any trick-or-treating stragglers, so I came back inside and closed the door.

“Ellsworth offered what? Just to see it?” I heard Noah’s raised voice through the office door. “The manuscript isn’t even done yet.”

I froze, my heart lodging in my throat, and though I desperately wanted to move, wanted to shut my ears against what was coming, I couldn’t seem to make myself go. I’d already told Damian there was no chance of him getting his grubby little hands on the manuscript, and it would be a cold day in hell before he got anywhere near the performance rights. Helen had no doubt relayed that same message again tonight.

I should’ve known he’d go to Noah next.

Don’t do it. The plea stayed firmly behind my teeth. If Noah was going to betray me, it was better to know now.

“Did he?” Noah’s tone sounded almost jovial. “No, you did the right thing. Thank you.”

Did the right thing? What did that mean? Sure, Noah liked me, but if I had learned one thing about this industry, it was that money trumped personal affection every time. And there was an ungodly amount of money to be made here.

Noah laughed unabashedly. My pulse leaped.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve never wanted his name connected to any of my books. And I’m glad we’re on the same page, Lou. I don’t give a shit what he said—she doesn’t want him to have it. Not even to read.”

I held my breath. Maybe…

“Because I was there when she told him to fuck off. Not that she used those exact words, but that was the gist, and I don’t blame her.”

A slow smile spread across my face. He chose me.

The concept was so wild that it took a moment to sink in. He. Chose. Me. As if the knowledge unlocked my feet, I was suddenly moving toward the office, pushing the door fully open, and standing before Noah.

He sat perched at the edge of the desk, one palm braced on the surface, the other holding his phone to his ear as he looked me in the eye. “He has first right of refusal?”

“I’m not selling the rights. It doesn’t matter,” I said, electricity humming under my skin like a living, breathing current. His words had done what weeks of flirting and sexual tension hadn’t—broken down my last defense. I was done fighting this.

“Did you hear her, Lou?” Noah smiled at whatever his agent said. “Yeah, I’ll tell her. Enjoy the rest of your vacation.” He hung up and set the phone down on the desk. “She gave him first right of refusal on future deals?” His eyebrows rose in disbelief.

“At the time, she gave me first right of refusal. I started the production company with Damian, remember? What did your agent say?” Less than six feet separated us. Any closer, and there wouldn’t be any more talking.

“That he’s a pompous asshole.” A corner of his lips lifted.

“True.” I nodded. “What did he offer you?”

“A contract on two of my un-optioned books, which is funny, since I’ve already shot him down previously.” Noah shrugged. “And that was just to get a look at the manuscript.”

“You didn’t give it to him.”

“It’s not mine to give.” The muscles in his forearms rippled as he gripped the edge of the desk. “And I’ll be damned if I’m giving him anything, let alone something that’s yours.”

I closed the distance between us, took his face in my hands, and kissed him. The hard lines of his mouth were impossibly supple against mine as our lips collided, softened, lingered.

“Georgia,” he said against my mouth, my name somewhere between a plea and a prayer as he drew back slightly, searching my eyes.

“You won me over,” I whispered, my hands sliding to the back of his neck.

A smile ghosted across his face, and then his lips were on mine, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me against his strong frame.

I gasped, my lips parting for him.

He tunneled a hand through my hair, cradling the back of my head as he deepened the kiss, laying claim to my mouth with thorough, sure strokes of his tongue that set me on fire. A small whimper I barely recognized as mine escaped at the taste of chocolate and Noah.

He tilted my head and kissed me deeper as I arched against him, rising on my toes to get closer. His hand moved to the small of my back as he explored the lines of my mouth with single-minded focus, as if nothing existed outside this kiss.

Need spiraled within me, fierce in its demand as the kiss went on and on. Noah kept me on edge, changing the tempo—hard and deep, then soft and playful, nipping at my lower lip with the gentle scrape of his teeth, only to soothe the sting with a swipe of his tongue.

I’d never been so completely, thoroughly intoxicated by a kiss.

More. I needed more.

I slid my hands from his neck to grip the hem of his shirt and tugged.

“Georgia?” He questioned between kisses.

“I want you.” The confession was a whisper, but I’d given it. Offered my truth up on a silver platter for him to accept or reject.

“Are you sure?” His dark eyes studied mine with equal parts heat and concern, a slightly wild edge to him, as though his self-control was as tenuous as mine.

“I’m sure.” I nodded, just in case the words weren’t enough, and