Free Torn (Lords of the City #1) by Alice Ward Page A

me?”
    “Yes,” I said, swallowing anxiously. “And no. Like I said, I don’t know you.”
    He leaned closer to me. “What impression of me do you have so far?”
    “That you’re tired.”
    Slowly, he moved his hand farther up my thigh. “You are perceptive.”
    Against my will, I shivered. My core throbbed with his hand so close. It was inappropriate, but it was delightful. Beneath my low-cut dress, my breasts heaved as my breath quickened. Noah was so damn attractive, and not just because he looked like his twin. I was drawn to the stability promised by his authority. Tattoos and ruggedness were alluring, but nothing was sexier than a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
    Think of Corey, I reminded myself. My loyalty is bulletproof. It’s because of him that I’m here, that I’m no longer a tumbleweed.
    “Have you heard any more from Corey?” I stammered, trying to steady my breath.
    “Corey is an adult. He doesn’t check in. The email he sent that led you here has been the only contact he made. It took years to receive that email, and it will probably be years before I hear from him again, likely when his trust fund runs dry.”
    His hand gripped my thigh harder, and I almost flinched under the touch. “Do you know why he asked me to take care of you?” he challenged, but he didn’t wait for me to answer. “Because he’s not coming back. He never has, and he never will.”
    “Why did he leave?” I asked, less upset by his proclamation than I’d thought I’d be.
    The muscle in his jaw popped. “Maybe you should ask him that.”
    “I can’t. He’s not here.”
    It was a setup, an excuse for Noah to place his lips next to my ear and whisper, “Precisely. He’s not here. But I am.”
    It was erogenous. His breath was warm against my ear, insinuating everything he could do to me with his mouth so close. A nibble on my earlobe. Kisses down my neck.
    Bulletproof.
    “This is his home,” I insisted softly. “Everyone returns home, sooner or later. He promised me he’d find me. What will you say to him when he does?”
    “Out there is his home,” Noah grunted, but he backed off. “You know it as much as I do.”
    “I’ll take the chance,” I said, relieved that he had given me back my space, and a little disappointed. The spell had been broken, but my body remained charged, and only Noah could release it.
    Reaching into a compartment against the divide that separated us from the driver, Noah pulled out a bottle of beer.
    “I didn’t take you for a beer man,” I said.
    “I only drink it when no one is looking. Don’t tell anyone.”
    “I’m looking.”
    He opened the bottle and took a sip. “You’re not no one.”
    Thirsty, I went to grab a bottle for myself, but Noah put his arm out, blocking me. “You shouldn’t drink. It impairs your judgement. If anything impairs your judgement, I want it to be me.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “And we still have work to do.”
    Remembering my notes, I settled back into the seat and returned to my tablet.
    “What do you think of my speech? Is it transparent enough?” he asked.
    “For who?”
    “For everyone at the convention, especially the medical community.”
    Briefly, I read through the shorthand of the speech, re-familiarizing myself with it. “It’s very technical. I wasn’t even sure what you were referring to half the time, and I’m a scientist.”
    “It’s technical because the research is technical,” Noah asserted.
    “I know, but you have to remember that the medical community is influenced by the needs and interests of the general public. I would worry less about being transparent to doctors and surgeons and worry more about the people who will be reading the newspapers the next day. With a breakthrough as big as this, everyone will be talking about it. Your speech will probably be posted online. It could go viral. Direct your focus on the everyday people. Make sure they understand the importance of the work. If