Read Online Rock Kiss 03 Rock Redemption by Nalini Singh - Free Book Online
Authors: Nalini Singh
Ads: Link
correct temperature and, while waiting for it to heat up, went into the bedroom to change into black yoga pants and a fitted dark blue T-shirt.
Hair mostly dry at this point, she combed it into a loose ponytail, her eyes on the mirror and on a face the tabloids had called “fugly” when Kit had been at the awkward adolescent stage. As in, how could two people as genetically blessed as Parker and Adreina Ordaz-Castille sire such a fugly child?
Those same tabloids now called Kit “a mix between Grace Kelly and Sophia Loren.” She snorted. Yeah, no matter how much smoke the media blew up her ass, she wasn’t about to get a big head. Neither was she about to forget that Noah would rather sleep with random groupies than with her.
A jagged breath.
Heading back into the kitchen, she slid the pizzas into the oven and began to make a green salad. She went to grab a bottle of wine halfway through, froze. No, she wouldn’t give Noah alcohol. Not until she knew if the other night had been a one-off or if he had a drinking problem.
She decided to make iced tea instead, heavy on the honey. Noah had a liking for the stuff, though she didn’t know where he’d picked up the taste.
The kitchen was redolent with the smell of bubbling cheese when Butch called to say Noah was heading up to the house.
It was time.
Chapter 6
T hroat dry, Kit waited for Noah to knock before she padded to the front door. Pride wouldn’t allow her to stand there waiting for him. Never again would she wait for Noah St. John.
The impact of him hit her all over again the instant she opened the door. He was wearing another pair of faded blue jeans and his favorite scuffed boots with the metal rivets, but his short-sleeved shirt was crisp black with a black-and-red design on one side. His hair was damp, his jaw freshly shaven. She knew if she leaned in close, he’d smell of the sea breeze of his aftershave and of the raw masculine heat that was Noah.
Hand tightening on the door, she stepped back and called on all her theatrical training to sound normal, unruffled. “Come in. I made pizza.”
“I picked up dessert.”
It was only then that she realized he was holding an insulated bag from her favorite ice cream place.
“Peanut butter fudge.” That heartbreaking smile, the song lyrics tattooed on the inside of his right wrist catching her eye as he lifted the bag. “No more superhero body paint, right?”
Kit’s calm facade nearly cracked. Noah had talked her into dessert more times than she could count during their earlier… whatever it had been. “Thanks.”
Taking the bag, she carried it into the kitchen and put the tub of ice cream in the freezer. She was putting the insulated bag on one side of the counter and trying not to be hyperconscious of Noah’s presence when the oven timer went off.
Grabbing at the distraction, she put on oven mitts and pulled out the two pizzas.
“Planning to indulge?” Noah asked, his gray eyes solemn though his lips smiled.
“I know you inhale pizza.” She’d wonder where it went except that she knew he ran for miles at night, long after the rest of the world was asleep. It was a truth she’d discovered when he’d crashed in her guest bedroom once. She’d woken and gone to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, caught him coming back in, damp with sweat and breathless.
He’d shrugged and grinned that off too, saying he ran after midnight because of the peace and privacy afforded by the darkness. She’d accepted the explanation, but like so much about Noah, it didn’t make sense in hindsight. Except for one notorious incident where he’d lost his temper with a frankly aggravating photographer, he didn’t seem to care about the paparazzi or the public snapping photos of him.
“This looks like seriously fancy pizza,” he said now, picking up a piece that dripped with cheese.
“Careful. It’s hot.”
He bit in anyway, groaned in pleasure, the strong column of his throat moving as he
Hair mostly dry at this point, she combed it into a loose ponytail, her eyes on the mirror and on a face the tabloids had called “fugly” when Kit had been at the awkward adolescent stage. As in, how could two people as genetically blessed as Parker and Adreina Ordaz-Castille sire such a fugly child?
Those same tabloids now called Kit “a mix between Grace Kelly and Sophia Loren.” She snorted. Yeah, no matter how much smoke the media blew up her ass, she wasn’t about to get a big head. Neither was she about to forget that Noah would rather sleep with random groupies than with her.
A jagged breath.
Heading back into the kitchen, she slid the pizzas into the oven and began to make a green salad. She went to grab a bottle of wine halfway through, froze. No, she wouldn’t give Noah alcohol. Not until she knew if the other night had been a one-off or if he had a drinking problem.
She decided to make iced tea instead, heavy on the honey. Noah had a liking for the stuff, though she didn’t know where he’d picked up the taste.
The kitchen was redolent with the smell of bubbling cheese when Butch called to say Noah was heading up to the house.
It was time.
Chapter 6
T hroat dry, Kit waited for Noah to knock before she padded to the front door. Pride wouldn’t allow her to stand there waiting for him. Never again would she wait for Noah St. John.
The impact of him hit her all over again the instant she opened the door. He was wearing another pair of faded blue jeans and his favorite scuffed boots with the metal rivets, but his short-sleeved shirt was crisp black with a black-and-red design on one side. His hair was damp, his jaw freshly shaven. She knew if she leaned in close, he’d smell of the sea breeze of his aftershave and of the raw masculine heat that was Noah.
Hand tightening on the door, she stepped back and called on all her theatrical training to sound normal, unruffled. “Come in. I made pizza.”
“I picked up dessert.”
It was only then that she realized he was holding an insulated bag from her favorite ice cream place.
“Peanut butter fudge.” That heartbreaking smile, the song lyrics tattooed on the inside of his right wrist catching her eye as he lifted the bag. “No more superhero body paint, right?”
Kit’s calm facade nearly cracked. Noah had talked her into dessert more times than she could count during their earlier… whatever it had been. “Thanks.”
Taking the bag, she carried it into the kitchen and put the tub of ice cream in the freezer. She was putting the insulated bag on one side of the counter and trying not to be hyperconscious of Noah’s presence when the oven timer went off.
Grabbing at the distraction, she put on oven mitts and pulled out the two pizzas.
“Planning to indulge?” Noah asked, his gray eyes solemn though his lips smiled.
“I know you inhale pizza.” She’d wonder where it went except that she knew he ran for miles at night, long after the rest of the world was asleep. It was a truth she’d discovered when he’d crashed in her guest bedroom once. She’d woken and gone to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, caught him coming back in, damp with sweat and breathless.
He’d shrugged and grinned that off too, saying he ran after midnight because of the peace and privacy afforded by the darkness. She’d accepted the explanation, but like so much about Noah, it didn’t make sense in hindsight. Except for one notorious incident where he’d lost his temper with a frankly aggravating photographer, he didn’t seem to care about the paparazzi or the public snapping photos of him.
“This looks like seriously fancy pizza,” he said now, picking up a piece that dripped with cheese.
“Careful. It’s hot.”
He bit in anyway, groaned in pleasure, the strong column of his throat moving as he
Similar Books
