“Say my name.”
“Noah.”
His eye lifted.
“Again.”
“Noah.”
He kissed me.
There was nothing tentative in it.
The kiss was hungry and emotional, alive with every choice he had made that day. His hand closed around my neck. Mine settled at his waist, and I let him lead until the rhythm of his breathing became too quick.
Then I slowed us.
Noah followed.
That trust nearly undid me more completely than his hunger had.
We went to the bed on our sides, facing each other.
I kissed his mouth until the tension left his jaw. Then his cheek. His throat. His chest.
My hand traveled over him slowly, turning caution into warmth.
He touched me too.
He did not lie still and allow the night to happen around him.
He chose every part of it.
His fingers moved along my back, over my hip, between us. Each time desire sharpened his breathing, I waited for his body to settle before continuing.
When I lowered my mouth to him, Noah’s hand entered my hair.
He let me bring him close, then tightened his fingers.
“Not yet.”
I stopped.
“All right.”
“I don’t want to disappear into it.”
“You’re here.”
“I want to be more here.”
I kissed the inside of his thigh.
Then I moved behind him.
Noah lay on his left side with the upper leg supported by a pillow. I fitted my body along his back, close enough for him to feel my warmth without carrying my weight.
My hands moved across his chest and stomach while I kissed the back of his neck.
