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“Yeah.” His tone was rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat to soften it.
The offer backfired spectacularly; Max pulled herself onto the kitchen bench, so her long legs dangled right in front of him. He threw her a look and then bit back a laugh. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“It occurs to me that you might have been talking about a different kind of hunger,” he drawled, giving up on sense and moving between her legs, planting a hand on the bench to either side of the thighs.
Her smile confirmed his suspicions. “Can’t I be both?”
“Oh, absolutely.” He nipped her lower lip with his teeth. “The question is, which one do you want to deal with first?”
She wrapped her legs around him, clasping her feet at his back. “Isn’t that sort of obvious?”
He lifted her easily, carrying her through the cabin, her laugh filling him with a strange sensation – a feeling it took him several moments to identity correctly: happiness.
Chapter 10
“WHAT IS THIS?” She kissed his tattoo, starting at one side a
nd moving to the other, pushing up a little so she could read the scrawled words.
“A quote.”
Her smile flickered. “I can see that. In Latin?”
“Yes.” He caught her hand, lacing their fingers together. “It says Non est ad astra mollis e terris via.”
She frowned. “I never learned Latin. I know astra means stars, right?”
He nodded. “There’s never an easy way from the earth to the stars.”
Her eyes lifted to his. “That’s beautiful.”
“It’s kind of melodramatic,” he drawled with a hint of mockery. “It was after my first tour. I was pissed off with the world, trying to process everything I’d seen.”
“And you thought a tattoo would help?” She teased, kissing the quote lines, then pressing her chin to her palm, atop his chest. “I think you’re very brave.”
His expression didn’t change. “I have to get back to work.” He kissed the tip of her nose then shifted, so she rolled back on the bed. “And you should sleep.”
“What time is it?” She asked, stifling a yawn. A tiredness she hadn’t known she was feeling wrapped around her, almost instantly. “Two o’clock.”
“Wow. How did that happen?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun?” he suggested, running his hand over her naked side, appreciating her softness, her planes, her smooth body.
“Don’t be long?” She asked, nestling back against the pillows, her eyes already heavy.
“Goodnight, Max.”
On his way out of the room, Noah went to pull the door shut but Max’s sleepy voice stopped him. “Leave it open. I like the light.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be afraid of the dark?”
Max’s eyes flew to Noah’s face, so he saw a wisp of embarrassment in the depths of her irises.
“Probably.”
“But you are? Afraid of the dark?”
“It’s called Nyctophobia,” she said quietly.
