Only gentle pressure along the length of him through the cloth.
Noah’s hips rose instinctively before he caught himself.
His face changed.
Pleasure.
Surprise.
A flicker of panic that eased the instant his gaze found mine.
“Again,” he whispered.
I repeated the motion.
A shudder passed through him.
I bent and kissed his forehead.
His right hand closed around my shoulder.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
Our mouths met while my hand continued moving over the fabric.
At first, Noah kissed with no rhythm at all, too distracted by sensation to decide what to do with his mouth. Then his breathing began to settle into the movement, and his lips softened beneath mine.
His body grew more urgent.
He pressed upward into my palm.
I stopped.
“Amber?” he asked.
“No. I’m checking.”
His eye opened.
“Do you want direct contact?”
His breath caught.
“I think I do.”
“Think, or know?”
He closed his eye again.
I waited.
“Yes.”
“Tell me clearly.”
“I want your hand on my skin.”
