But this Noah deserved to be kissed without the weight of everything I knew.
I followed what he gave me.
Nothing more.
His lips moved against mine with growing confidence. His fingers flexed in my hair. When I angled my mouth and deepened the kiss, he answered with a rough inhale that tightened every muscle in my body.
I wanted him.
The truth was fierce, immediate, and inappropriate to the fragility of the moment.
I wanted to gather him against me. To taste the skin below his ear. To hear the sounds his body had once given me without hesitation.
But desire was mine to manage.
Not his burden.
I ended the kiss before hunger could become pressure.
Noah’s eye opened.
Dazed.
Bright.
His lips were flushed.
“Why did you stop?”
“You need sleep.”
“Everyone says that after something interesting happens.”
“You’re slurring.”
He frowned.
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
His mouth moved, preparing an argument.
Then he yawned.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Unrelated,” he said.
“Obviously.”
I rearranged the cushions so his injured side remained supported.
Noah caught my wrist before I could move away.
“Stay until I fall asleep.”
“I’m staying all afternoon.”
