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“I never thought I’d stay here for long,” I confessed after her rant.
“Why’s that?”
“Moved around a lot as a kid.” I closed the distance between us again, and when I reached for her good hand, Noah let me have it without protest. I gently pulled her toward the couch. The cushions were pretty beaten up from how much I slept on them, but it was comfortable enough to sink into after our long day.
“Did your parents move a lot for work?” Noah asked.
“Nope. I wish.” I’d fully planned on giving her hand another massage. Somehow, I managed to entwine our fingers instead. I brushed circles around the back of her thumb; it was hard to imagine that months ago, I’d planned on having her removed from my team. Our team.
“They got evicted from more places than I can remember,” I said while staring at our hands.
“And now, you don’t decorate because you’re afraid of that happening to you?”
“No, I never got used to the idea of putting things in this space. It doesn’t feel right.”
“How else will you feel like you’re coming home?”
“My art’s home. Everything else is temporary.”
Noah took a breath. We were close enough that I could feel the rise and fall of her shoulders. I didn’t look up to meet her gaze yet; I liked the low stakes of holding her hand and studying how nicely our fingers fit together.
“Is that a sentiment bred from something that happened today?” Noah asked. “Or a cornerstone of belief?”
“The latter.” I finally looked up, and we were a breath away. “But it’s strengthened by today.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Her gaze flickered to my lips. I didn’t feel like going into depth about my family right now; it was safe to say she’d appreciate doing something else, too.
“No,” I said simply. “Did you want to eat now?"
“I-if you're not hungry right now, I can hold off.”
I smiled at her nervous stutter. “Are you okay?”
“Perfect.” She nodded, and I tucked a coil behind her ear, an excuse for my hand to linger. Noah leaned into my touch as my fingers journeyed from her neck to her cheeks. She turned her head to kiss the back of my hand, and I feel heat rising in between my legs. As she continued to kiss my hand, the heat intensified enough for me to crave pressure against my mouth as well.
I leaned forward to kiss her exposed neck, and Noah's moan of approval made me gently bite down on her racing pulse.
“Can I keep you for the night?” I asked between kisses that trailed down her neck and toward her collarbone. I tugged her top down a bit to expose more skin. The yarn stretched, revealing the beautiful brown skin underneath. "Show you how grateful I am for your cooking and your gift?"
“I’d like that,” Noah whispered. Her fingers had found their way to my shirt, but she couldn’t figure out the vest. I bit back a laugh when she failed at unlatching the clips. Noah threw her leg over my lap as she tried to free me from my top. The closeness didn’t help the attempt, but it sure as hell made us both desperate for more.
“Take this off? Please?”
I’d never heard a plea sound so sweet. We’d come such a long way, miles removed from even a few months ago, when we couldn’t stand sitting across from one another.
“We’ve gone from glaring across a meeting room to dry humping in my living room,” I teased in a low voice.
Noah laughed while still yanking at my top. “Who’s dry humping?”
“I assumed it’d be you in the next few seconds.”
“Bold of you to assume it’d be me.” She lifted herself up so she was properly on my lap.
“You’re on my lap, Pastel.”
“And your hands are on my ass,” she shot back.
I tilted my head to the side, realizing my hands had, indeed, found their way to her ass. She arched her back in what I’m sure she thought was a subtle movement, and I smiled, loving how each cheek felt on my palms. The little wiggle she did to try and get me to squeeze her was adorable.
