“Just close.”
I turned fully, careful of his hip, and wrapped my arms around him.
Noah kissed me again.
Slower.
His hand slipped beneath the hem of my sweatshirt and rested against the tired muscles of my back.
Warm skin.
Steady pressure.
I shuddered.
“Green?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“Do you want more?”
The reversal caught me off guard.
“I want this.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
I considered my answer.
“I want more. This is what I need.”
His gaze softened.
“Then this.”
We kissed until hunger became tenderness.
Until Noah’s movements slowed with fatigue.
Until my body stopped expecting the room to split open around us.
He rested his forehead against mine.
“I want to make you feel good.”
“You do.”
“Sexually.”
My pulse kicked hard.
“You are medicated and exhausted.”
“I know.”
“Today was traumatic.”
“I know.”
