“That was inside me?” he asked quietly.
The question carried wonder and memory, not fear.
“Yes.”
His cheeks flushed.
“Not today.”
“No.”
His hand hovered.
“Show me.”
I wrapped my fingers around his and guided him.
My eyes closed at the first contact.
Noah stopped instantly.
“Bad?”
“No.”
I opened my eyes again.
“Very green.”
His mouth curved.
I guided him through one stroke.
Then another.
His grip was cautious, almost analytical.
Then he saw what each movement did to me.
Curiosity gave way to desire.
He adjusted his hand without instruction.
I breathed his name.
“Noah.”
His attention sharpened.
“You like that.”
“Yes.”
He repeated the movement.
My hips shifted.
Noah’s lips parted.
