Maybe tonight they would finally share their first kiss.
Her blood pounded at the memory of how close they’d come last time. She’d been able to count each one of his eyelashes, feel his breath against her skin, see the staccato beat of the pulse in his neck. A single inch and their lips would’ve touched.
She might explode when that happened, she was so ready.
Taking a deep breath as she reached his door, she didn’t knock. He’d told her to just walk in; the last time she’d knocked, he’d still been in the shower, cleaning up after the show, and she’d ended up going in on her own anyway. Kit felt her silly, goofy smile break through her self-control as she tapped the key card on the doorknob to open it.
When the door stayed locked, she looked down.
“Idiot,” she muttered, realizing she had to insert the card at this hotel. “You’d think you were fifteen and about to meet your crush alone for the first time.”
Except that was exactly how she felt. Happy and excited and bubbling with love. Never had she felt this way about a man. She could see the promise of forever in Noah’s eyes, and it captured her heart, her soul, held it prisoner.
Chest tight with the emotions inside her, she pushed the door open. Music filtered out, low and lazy. Her smile grew deeper. There was always music around Noah. Even when he was reading a book, he’d told her he had music on in the background.
“It’s like another heartbeat,” he’d said to her once. “I miss it when it’s not there, even though I might not consciously notice it when it’s present.”
That made so much sense to her, gave her another insight into his mind.
About to call out his name as she stepped into the living area of the suite, something made her stop, dread coalescing into a dark and viscous intruder in her gut. The lights were on, the music was on, and she could see the remnants of a room service tray, so Noah was around, but…
That was when she saw what her subconscious had already noted and processed.
A high-heeled shoe lay on the carpet by the room service tray. The shoe glittered under the lights, sparkly gold with a four-inch stiletto heel.
At that instant, it felt as if that heel were embedded in Kit’s chest, the pain of it burning and burning. She knew she should turn around and leave, but she couldn’t. She had to know, had to be sure. Noah meant too much for her to make a mistake or to have doubts.
Heart squeezing and lungs barely drawing in enough air to keep her from passing out, she made herself walk across the floor to the open bedroom door. And as she walked, she saw the other shoe by that door, along with a knot of black cotton that was a T-shirt flung off without care to where it landed.
Fingers curling into a fist, she brought it to her mouth, trying to plug the agony that was churning inside her, keep it from erupting into a scream that would never end.
Then her eyes landed on the glittery pile of sequined fabric that might have been a dress, and the agony twisted.
Keeping her gorge down only because she refused to crumple, not here, not where he could see her, she took the final step to the door.
Her heart just… broke.
Noah was on the bed, beautiful as always, his golden-blond hair falling over his forehead and his back muscles bunched beneath his tattoos as he braced himself on his arms above a woman whose face Kit couldn’t see but whose breasts sat large and high on her chest.
The sheet hid Noah’s lower body, but there was no mistaking what he was doing, his hips moving in a distinctive, unmistakable motion. He was beautiful even in that, a part of her noted, like music given physical form.
The thought made her want to laugh, and she knew she was a second away from hysteria.
Noah looked up at that instant, his eyes meeting hers across the room, and everything in her froze, went numb, the shards of her splintered heart stabbing her from the inside out.
Kit groaned at the sound of her phone. Reaching out blindly toward the nightstand, she hurled mental curses upon herself for forgetting to turn it off so she could catch some uninterrupted sleep before her four-a.m. makeup call.
It’d be fun and great for her career, her agent had said when recommending Kit take the superhero flick. Coming off two serious and emotionally wrenching projects, Kit had taken Harper’s advice and jumped on board the high-budget, high-octane venture. Unfortunately, Harper had forgotten to mention the four hours it would take to put her into the head-to-toe makeup required for the role. Daily.
“What?” she snarled into the phone without checking to see who it was.