I opened my mouth to protest, but Noah shook his head and told me to let him finish. His free hand came up and trailed down the line of my jaw until he was tilting my chin to look up at him fully. “I’m not perfect, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you looking at him the way you’re looking at me now—like I hung the moon. You mean too much to me.”
I scrunched my nose as my cheeks warmed. Was it that obvious how I looked at him? “I can’t mean that much to you if you’re hiding me from your friends.”
“It’s not that.” He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth, struggling for words. But then his eyes settled on my lips, and his own curved into a slow smile. “You’re my coffee, Emma.”
I blinked, positive I’d misheard him. “Wait. What?”
Noah’s gaze jumped up to mine, and the smile reached his eyes.
“I’m addicted to you.” His smile widened as my grip tightened on his hand. “Think of how much you love coffee. That’s how I feel about you.”
I felt my jaw go slack.
“Youloveme?” I asked, but it barely came out louder than a whisper.
Noah stared back at me, a flicker of confusion passing over his face before he chuckled. “I do. Yes. I love everything about you. The ramblings, the Jell-O incidents, your musical soul that reaches out to mine—”
I slapped a hand over his mouth, seriously worried for my health if he continued. My brain was already playing his words on repeat.
“Wow,” was all I could say. I swallowed around the lump in my throat. That was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me. My chest felt tight, and I fought to find any sort of response that didn’t involve throwing up on his polished loafers from the elation his words produced. “I, uh, I love you, too.”
And I did—I belatedly realized as the butterflies practically vibrated in excitement—with every fiber of my being.
I’d never said that to anyone before; not even my parents.
Noah’s lips widened into a smile beneath my palm, and it reached his eyes in a way that had me physically fanning myself. He threw his head back with a laugh, pulling loose from my hold.
I watched the absolute joy take shape on his face, mesmerized, until he calmed down long enough to lean in again.
He traced the underside of my lip with his thumb. “You’re my coffee.”
“Okay, shut up or I’m going to start crying,” I said with a light shove at his chest, but his face already looked blurry from the tears welling in my eyes. “Cheese and fries.”
“Did I mention I love the bizarre way you curse, too?” Noah chuckled as he wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pulled me against his broad chest. I tried to keep my eyes focused on his while sniffling back tears. His head tilted down, breath mingling with mine as he placed a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I love every inch of you.”
I breathed in deeply through my nose, trying to get a hold on my heart’s frantic beating and my chart-topping blood pressure, but I just ended up getting a noseful of his rain scent. Noah didn’t know what he was doing to me.
I wanted to say something sweet and romantic back, but all that my jumbled mind could come up with was that he smelled nice. “Just kiss me already.”
That got another big smile as the skin by his eyes crinkled, but it was short-lived as he focused on me—while very noticeablynotkissing me.
“I’m sorry I tried to hide you,” Noah said. His hands slid from my waist to grab ahold of my hips. “I like having you to myself too much, and I’ve never liked sharing my coffee. But I’m here. I’ll be here for as long as you want me, because there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
My teary eyes were past any hope of recovery, and I cursed them for not allowing me to see a clear picture of Noah’s earnest face. But I saw enough of the emotion swirling in his eyes, and the upward tilt to his lips. He was calm and happy.
I was happy, too.
Painfully happy.
“Noah…” I bit my lip and gripped his arms, hoping I wasn’t doing the wrong thing. But I knew how I felt. “What’s your opinion on sleepovers?”
His brow wrinkled, offsetting the smile. “Aside from the bloody nose incident, I don’t think I’ve been to one since I was a child—”
“I’m asking if you want to stay the night,” I cut in, the words basically tripping over each other to escape my mouth—wishing he hadn’t brought up the time I’d accidentally drugged him. I cleared my throat to banish the onslaught of anxious energy. “With me. In my bed. Together.”
Noah’s smile softened, and his eyes didn’t waver from mine. “I’d love to.”
There was a word I’d associated with Noah Kincaid from the start. From the first time he’d stepped through the classroom door and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at my crazed smile. He seemed to embody it from head to toe, and it wholly described him from the way he wore those impeccable blazers to his flawless Southern manners—all the way down to how he lined up his ninety-nine-dollar pens in a meticulous line exactly one minute before class began.
