Noah eased from my lap and settled beside me.
His amusement faded.
“You stopped.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted more.”
“Yes.”
“But you still stopped.”
“Of course.”
He stared at our hands.
“I keep expecting you to be angry.”
“At what?”
“At me changing my mind. At not being ready. At wanting something and then becoming frightened.”
“Noah.”
“I know what you say.”
“Then listen to it.”
“You could get tired of waiting.”
“I could become tired. I am already tired. Waiting for consent is not the cause.”
I turned his hand palm-up and kissed the center of it.
“You do not owe me progress.”
His eye shone.
“You make it extremely difficult not to fall in love with you.”
My heart seemed to pause between beats.
Noah went still.
The words had escaped before he could reconsider them.
He looked away.
“Forget I said that.”
“No.”
“Reid.”
“No.”
His cheeks burned.
