I kissed him slowly.
We cleaned ourselves and returned to bed naked beneath the quilt.
Noah’s hand drifted across my stomach.
“Can we try something?”
“What?”
“I want you to touch me from behind.”
Heat stirred again, but I remained still.
“Only externally?”
“To begin.”
I opened the bedside drawer and found the lubricant.
Noah turned onto his side with his back against my chest. The position kept his injured hip neutral and left his shoulder unconfined.
I kissed the back of his neck.
“Tell me the instant anything changes.”
“I will.”
My hand moved along his waist and over the curve of his hip, avoiding the healing places until he relaxed against me.
His breathing slowed.
I warmed the lubricant between my fingers and touched him carefully.
No pressure.
Only a slow, intimate caress.
His body tensed.
I stopped.
“Where are you?”
“Amber.”
“Do you want my hand gone?”
“No.”
“Should I stay still?”
“Yes.”
I did not move.
I held him without tightening my arm, giving him space even within the embrace.
Gradually, his breathing steadied.
