He studied me.
“You’re thinking too loudly.”
“I’m trying to determine what you need.”
“Ask me.”
“What do you need?”
He drew a long breath.
“To sit here.”
“All right.”
“And for you to stop acting like kissing me was a neurological crisis.”
A laugh escaped me.
“I am not doing that.”
“You look ready to phone Dr. Whitcomb.”
“I am considering it.”
“No.”
“She should know about the memory association.”
“The memory association?”
“The whistle. The touch.”
“Not the kiss.”
“That is private.”
“Good.”
His mouth curved.
My gaze found it immediately.
Noah noticed.
“You want to kiss me again.”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you?”
“You’re exhausted.”
“I’m sitting down.”
“You nearly fell asleep while Maeve took your blood pressure.”
“I was bored.”
