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And I’m not even sure why the pull toward her exists. I’m about to turn away just as I hear her cry out. My blood runs cold and I turn the knob and push through the door immediately.
The room is dark, but the light from the hall gives me just enough to see what I need to. Rory is alone. There’s no one here. Just Rory, but she’s sleeping and she’s in the middle of a bad dream… She’s twisting, the sheets on my bed tangling in her legs, her hair is strewn across my pillows. Sleeping, she’s nothing but honey-sweet flesh and a mass of auburn waves. At least until you get to her face. There’s where God’s handiwork is really seen. Lips, lush, plump and made to kiss, long eyelashes that feather and curl out naturally and those damn freckles. The same freckles I’ve been obsessing about. They barely dust across her nose but every time I see them—every damn time—I go hard.
Instantly.
That doesn’t change now. My dick is pushing against the gym shorts I’m wearing. They hang loose on me, which means I have a damn tent going. I feel like a fucking jerk, especially with the drama she had today—drama it’s clear that she’s suffered for a while. The last thing she needs is to wake with a man coming at her with a fucking hard on and balls loaded with cum he wants her to swallow down.
Christ.
I start to turn away when she cries again. I look and she’s moving in the bed again. It’s clear she’s asleep, but it’s also clear that the dream that has her in its clutches is not a good one. I reach out, partly to wake her and partly to let my fingers sift through those auburn curls.
“Help,” she whimpers and the pain in her voice hurts me. “King, help me,” she says and I frown.
I thought that she called her ex, Tony?
I shrug it off. Maybe King is a nickname? I’ll ask her more about things later—when she wants to talk about it. I understand all too well why you’d want to keep things locked away and not think or talk about them. I’m making it through every damn day like that.
All of the sudden Rory let’s out a scream and sits up straight. Her head turns frantically as she scans the room, fear etched so thick on her face it’s almost a living thing.
“It’s just a bad dream, Gorgeous,” I tell her sitting on the bed—hoping to hide the fact my dick is rock hard.
“Noah?” she whispers. “What are you doing here?”
“You were crying out in your sleep,” I tell her and I don’t even realize that my hand has reached out to touch her hair until it’s there, taking the weight of it from her neck, letting it cascade against my hand and memorizing the texture.
“Bad dream,” she mumbles, staring at my face.
No, that isn’t right. She’s staring at my lips. Her gaze has locked on them and it’s not moving. When I see her tongue dart out to lick her bottom one… I’m helpless to stop what happens next.
“Let me see if I can make it better,” I murmur just as my lips touch hers.
Damn.24RoryI shouldn’t be kissing him.
That thought keeps ringing through my head, even as his tongue slides into my mouth and I’m wrapping mine around it, groaning as I drink in the taste of him.
I shouldn’t be kissing him.
Again, it sings through my brain, even as my fingers wrap in his hair and his tangle into mine. Even as we become nothing more than two people searching, all tongue, lips, teeth and… hunger.
It’s the single most intense kiss I’ve ever had in my life and at the same time it’s sweet. I never knew that was possible. I had no idea that a kiss could be thick with hunger and sweet at the same time, but Noah’s kiss is exactly that and it’s like a drug, firing through my system and making every nerve ending come alive and pulsate.
I shouldn’t be kissing him.
Over and over I hear it, despite the roaring of my blood, the thrumming of my heart and feeling him yank my shirt over my head so harshly that my arms are forced to let go of his gorgeous, thick, mane of hair. To the point that they go straight up and then I’m helping him pull my top off—which is really his top, but at the moment I don’t even care about that.
We both suck back air in the few moments we’re apart and then he’s at me again, claiming my mouth, his tongue a warrior that conquers and owns.
“Fuck, Gorgeous,” he growls and the deep tone in his voice and the thick hunger in it combine to make wetness glide between my legs and my clit spasm.
