“I know.”
I began to move away.
His hand closed around my wrist.
“Stay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He turned carefully until he faced me.
The blankets remained between our hips.
His gaze lowered, following the line of my body beneath the bedding, then returned to my face.
“Does that happen every morning?”
“Most mornings.”
“And you usually leave before I wake.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want you to feel observed. Or pressured.”
He considered.
“Can I touch you?”
My breath caught.
“Where?”
“Over your clothes.”
“Yes.”
Noah slid his right hand down my chest.
He paused at my stomach, giving himself time to decide.
Then his palm settled over the hard shape of me through my sleep pants.
Pleasure tightened low in my body.
I breathed slowly through it.
His eye widened.
“You’re watching my face,” I said.
“I want to know what you feel.”
“A great deal.”
