“Let’s see…” I think for a moment. “I’m a bit of a neat freak. Hospital training, I guess. Everything has its place.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” he points out. “What else?”
“Usually I…uh, sleep naked.”
Noah goes completely still on my lap, his eyes widening. A flush creeps up his neck, spreading across his cheeks in a way that makes me want to trace it with my mouth.
“You…sleep naked?” he repeats, his voice suddenly an octave higher.
I nod, watching his reaction with growing amusement. “Every night. It’s good for blood circulation.”
Noah swallows, his flush deepening. “In which organs, exactly?” he asks, and I can tell he’s trying for sarcasm, but he’s too breathless to pull it off.
I chuckle, my hands sliding down to rest on his hips. “All of them, Noah. Blood circulation is important everywhere.”
“Right,” he says faintly. “Of course.”
I can’t stop grinning at how flustered he looks. “Would that bother you?”
Noah’s breath hitches, his eyes darkening. “N-no. I can tolerate that.”
My thumbs trace small circles on the skin just above his hip bones, and I feel him shiver under my touch.
“What I’m trying to say,” I murmur, holding his gaze, “is that I want you for as long as you want me. Whether that’s in separate apartments across the hall from each other, or in a place of our own. Preferably the latter. I just want you in my life.”
Noah bites his lip, looking away, and I can see the internal debate playing out on his face—whether to voice this last fear or keep it to himself.
“What’s bothering you?” I ask gently. “Tell me.”
He takes a deep breath, then blurts out, “What if you hate having sex with me?”
The question hangs between us, shocking in its bluntness. For a second, I just stare at him, trying to process the fact that he’s genuinely worried about this after what happened between us at the cottage.
“Are you serious?” I finally manage, my voice rough with disbelief.
Noah nods miserably, still not meeting my eyes. “We’ve only done it once, and there was no…you know…penetration. And we were both drunk, and maybe it was just the alcohol for you, or—”
I laugh, the sound escaping me before I can stop it—not mocking, just stunned that this brilliant, beautiful man has no idea what he does to me.
“Hey,” I say, cupping his face and making him look at me. “I already love it too much. Just having you in my arms…”
I press him down slightly, encouraging him to shift against me where I’m already hard beneath him. Noah gasps, his pupils dilating as he feels exactly how much I want him.
“Oh,” he breathes, looking both surprised and pleased.
“Yeah,oh,” I echo, my voice dropping lower. “This is what you do to me. Just sitting on my lap, just talking.”
Noah’s lips part, his breathing quickening. He rocks his hips experimentally, grinding down against me, and it’s my turn to gasp at the friction.
“Connor?” he murmurs, my name a question and a plea all at once.
I lean in, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, “I want to fuck you, Noah. So fucking much.” I feel him shudder against me, his hands tightening on my shoulders. “I want to come home from work every day and make you feel good. Fuck you until you’re shaking and begging for me.”
“Jesus,” Noah hisses, his hips moving with more purpose now, creating a rhythm that’s making it hard for me to think clearly. “Connor—”
“Is that enough of an answer?” I ask.
He looks wrecked already, just from my words, and the sight makes my cock throb painfully inside my jeans.
