Heat floods my face. I open my mouth, close it, push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “I— That wasn’t— We didn’t discuss?—”
He laughs softly, slowly, the sound curling around my ribs like smoke. I love his voice, and I really love his laugh, even if it’s currently making me nervous. Before I can retreat into the safety of my kitchen and bury my nerves in a glass of bourbon or mug of tea, my phone vibrates on the entry table. Then it rings, loud and shrill in the quiet between us.
I glance at the called ID. Zennie. She and my sister areprobably calling for an update on this very situation. Though Noah is none the wiser, just the idea of it makes me anxious, and heat colors my cheeks as I reach for the phone.
“Sorry, just— one second.” I fumble to silence it, but my thumb slips and the voicemail kicks in on speakerphone for two agonizing seconds.
“Cade, it’s Zennie. You better not be avoiding this. Let me know if you finally talked to Noah?—”
I jam my finger on the screen so hard the phone nearly flies out of my hand. Silence crashes back in and my ears throb with the thrashing of my pulse, beating hard and frantic as embarrassment licks my cheeks.
I glance up, finding Noah’s eyes are dark, filled with amusement. The little twitch of his crooked smile is teasing, like he knows far too much. He steps closer, close enough that I can see the faint stubble along his jaw. “Talk to me about what, Cade?”
I shake my head, backing up until my shoulders hit the wall. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” Lies, and bad ones at that.
He presses me, moving into my space, unhurried. His fingers brush my chin, tilting my face up, toward his. My heart is absolutely hammering, and I nudge my glasses in the center of the frame out of habit. Noah leans in and kisses the spot just beneath my pulse, along my throat, soft and deliberate. My breath catches.
“About what?” he murmurs against my skin, pressing me for more. Always pressing.
I swallow hard. The rule-follower in me screams to shutthis down, to cite department policy, to remember I’ve only just realized I want him and that this could destroy the careful life I’ve built. But my body is already leaning into him, traitor that it is.
Noah’s mouth moves down my throat, lips brushing against my frantic, hungry pulse. “About what?” he asks again, voice velvet but rough, the perfect cocktail.
A helpless sound escapes me. His hands are on my shirt now, deft fingers working the buttons open one by one. Cool air hits my chest as he pushes the fabric off my shoulders. I shiver, but I’m not cold. I’m hot, my skin on fire with need as his confident hands disrobe and touch me. Noah palms my chest, thumb circling one nipple until it tightens under his touch, sending sparks straight down my spine.
I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe we’re doing this.
I’m so happy he’s here. I’m so glad we’re doing this.
“About what, Cade?” he whispers, then kisses me on the mouth—soft, teasing, barely there. Hardly a kiss, and yet, the best kiss of my fucking life. A kiss loaded with promise, laced with torment.
I break. “About us,” I whisper, barely audible.
Noah hums approval against my lips. He sinks lower, kissing a trail down my sternum, over my stomach, tongue dipping briefly into my navel. Sparks skitter along my arms and down my legs, and my groin burns with need. My hands move uselessly at my sides.
“What about us?” he asks, voice muffled against myskin. Noah’s mouth is on my skin. Noah has seen my cock, he’s stroked us together, he’s made me cum.
Noah Ryan wants me.
I shake my head, trying to push at his shoulders, but there’s no force in it. “Noah, we can’t— I don’t even know what I’m doing. This is insane. We haven’t talked about what we’re doing and I’ve never—” My voice breaks, and reason fails me. Instead of the reasons why we should slow down, why we should talk, I break and let the wall fall down, and my truth slip out. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”
A smile curves his full lips at my admission, and he doesn’t stop. His fingers work my belt open with practiced ease, then my zipper. When he frees my cock, already hard and aching, I stop fighting entirely.
Noah slowly lowers to both knees, positioning himself before me, my cock weeping in his hands. The sight of him on his knees in my house, looking up at me with those dark eyes, is too much.
“Ask what you need to ask, Cade,” he says, voice low. His tongue flicks out, tracing the head of my cock in a slow, wet circle. My hips jerk, twitching forward involuntarily.
I blink down at him, trembling. “Do you… like me?” The words feel ridiculous, humiliatingly juvenile, but they claw their way out anyway. “As more than friends?”
Noah doesn’t answer with words. He takes me into his mouth in one smooth glide, all the way down until hisnose brushes my pelvis. The wet heat, the tight suction, the way his throat works around me—it rips a broken moan from my chest. He pulls back slowly, lips glistening, and looks up at me.
“What do you think?” he asks, voice rough.
But he must see it—the insecurity flickering in my eyes, the fear that this is pity or a game or something he’ll regret tomorrow and I’ll remember forever. Because Noah stands up, cups my face in both hands, and kisses me deep and slow and devastating. His tongue slides against mine like he’s banishing every doubt I’ve ever had. About me, and us.
“I’ve been waiting for you to want me back, Cade Mercer,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Been waiting so fucking long.”
Then he drops to his knees again, and this time there’s no teasing. This time he means it.
