“I do.”
He sat first, testing the mattress beneath him, then lowered himself onto his back.
I lay beside him rather than moving over him.
The position left the room open around his body. He could see me. He could turn away. He did not have my weight above him or feel pinned against the mattress.
He noticed.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
I touched his cheek.
“May I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“Your chest?”
“Yes.”
“Lower?”
His breath caught.
“Yes.”
My hand traveled down him slowly.
Chest.
Stomach.
The curve of his hip.
The tense line of muscle along his thigh.
I avoided the place where he most wanted me.
Noah made an impatient sound.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m being patient.”
“That is not a denial.”
“No.”
He caught my wrist and guided my hand between his legs.
I closed my fingers around him.
His head pressed back into the pillow.
“Green?”
“Yes.”
