He opened the button.
Then the next.
And another.
His fingers slowed as more skin appeared. My body was no longer new to him. Since coming home, he had seen meundressed, slept against me, explored me with his hands and mouth, watched desire strip the composure from my face.
Tonight was still different.
Intention changed familiar things.
Every inch he revealed seemed to acquire meaning because he had brought me here with a purpose neither of us could pretend not to understand.
When the shirt hung open, Noah eased it from my shoulders. His palms traveled over my chest and stopped at the black compass inked beneath my ribs.
“Still dramatic,” he murmured.
“Your opinion remains noted.”
He bent and pressed his mouth to the center of the tattoo.
My breath caught.
Noah looked up immediately.
“Green?”
“Yes.”
He kissed the ink again, lower this time, his lips moving along one dark line.
He was not teasing me.
He was learning what happened when he touched me with this particular promise between us.
I rested one hand at the back of his neck. I did not guide him. I only let him feel that I was there.
He straightened and reached for my belt.
I covered his hand before he opened it.
“Do you want me undressed first?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
A hint of mischief appeared in his eye.
“So I can reconsider while you stand there naked.”
I laughed.
“Practical.”
“And rewarding.”
I stepped back and removed the rest of my clothes.
