I realized what I had done only when Noah went still.
I drew back.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”
His gaze fixed on my mouth.
“Do it again.”
I held his eyes. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
I lifted his hand slowly.
This time, I kissed the center of his palm.
His breath caught.
His fingers curled, brushing my cheek. A flush climbed from his chest to his throat.
The room altered around us.
Not with the practiced certainty of the intimacy we had once shared.
With the fragile danger of desire being discovered for the first time.
His thumb moved over my beard.
“I like that.”
“You told me.”
“Before?”
“Last week.”
“Oh.”
Disappointment dimmed his expression.
I kept his palm against my face.
“You chose it then. You chose it now.”
His gaze returned to mine.
“That’s better.”
We stayed that way until the moment softened into something we could both carry.
When I finally released his hand, Noah looked toward the unfinished puzzle.
“Will you complete the border with me?”
“Yes.”
