“Tell me if anything changes.”
“It won’t.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I will.”
He turned his face enough for me to reach his mouth.
The angle made the kiss awkward.
Hungry.
Breathless.
His lips opened beneath mine. I tasted sleep and coffee from the night before and the warmth of him. His fingers tightened over my wrist where my hand lay on his stomach.
His body grew taut.
“I’m close.”
“Do you want to stop?”
“No.”
“Keep going?”
“Yes.”
I held him firmly and moved against him.
Noah cried out softly into the pillow.
His body went rigid, then shuddered as release took him. His hand stilled beneath the blanket.
Feeling him tremble in my arms destroyed what remained of my control.
I pressed my face to his neck and followed with a rough sound, my hips losing their careful rhythm.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Our breathing filled the room.
Then Noah began to laugh.
Not loudly.
A warm, startled sound.
I kissed his shoulder.
“What?”
“We are still almost completely dressed.”
“Yes.”
“That felt…”
