“Again,” he whispered.
I resumed with less pressure.
The tension in him changed. It did not vanish, but desire began to move through it.
His hips shifted toward my hand.
“Green?”
“Yes.”
I kissed his shoulder.
He allowed me to continue for several minutes, guiding me with subtle movements. Each response felt like a fragile language we were building together.
When my touch became more deliberate, his breath caught sharply.
“Stop.”
I withdrew at once.
Noah went motionless.
I wrapped my arm around him.
“No apology.”
“I know.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Fear?”
“A little.”
“Do you want space?”
“No.”
He turned within my arms.
Embarrassment remained in his face despite all our rules against it.
I touched his cheek.
“You said stop.”
“Yes.”
“And I stopped.”
“Yes.”
“Nothing was ruined.”
His mouth curved faintly.
