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I laugh, and some of the tension lifts.
“I have a way with you. My words are important because I want you to truly understand my intentions. Are we good?”
She practically gives me a riddle as her answer. Something about words being a great source of magic and the ability they have to hurt and heal.
I sense I’m missing something about what she just said. “Huh?” It’s about the only response I can give.
Her smile grows, and relief hits me.
“We’re good. Sorry, I forgot I was speaking to a muggle. You really need to brush up on your Dumbledore quotes.”
Harry Potter. I should have known.
“So, to my house then?” I double-check.
“Yes, to your house.”
And we’re on our way.
I told her in my big speech that I’d be the perfect gentlemen, and I mean it, but not laying her down in my bed will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. As we pull into my driveway, I know my willpower will be tested.
Noah follows me inside after I unlock the door. My home seems quieter, larger, and sparser today with her so close in proximity. Our talk about taking things slow has me a little on edge. I don’t want to screw anything up. I take her on a short tour of the house and have every intention of avoiding my bedroom, but Noah pulls me to a stop.
“Where’s your room?”
If she wants to see it, then I won’t deny her.
I take her hand. “Come on.”
She follows close behind me as I lead the way. After I open the door, I allow her inside first. She makes a lap around the room and touches everything. Her fingers brush photos of me with Sunday and my mom, and her hands cascade off surfaces that have only ever been furniture to me before. Her eyes bounce from place to place, but my sight stays with her. She sits on my bed, and I fight back a groan at first, but then I notice her discomfort as she shifts and messes with her shirt.
“Is it sore?” I ask, referencing her freshly inked tattoo.
“Yeah, a little.”
“I’ll get you some Advil.” I need the breather anyway after seeing her on my bed.
In the kitchen, I count to ten and try to remember how to breathe again before bringing the medicine and a glass of water back to Noah. She accepts both and swallows the pills. I sit on the bed next to her, and my hands move before I can process what a bad idea it is. My fingers skim up her ribs as I lift her shirt, stopping before I get to her bra. Her flesh is like a beacon to me. I lean in and kiss the skin around her bandage.
My lips linger on her skin.
My kisses cover her side.
I get a small tease of her body, but it’s more than enough.
She shivers as my tongue sneaks out for a taste.
My hands touch her flat stomach, and she sucks in a breath.
I’m torturing us both, but it’s the best kind of torture.
Noah purrs, and I bite down just to the side of her belly button.
The action is a bit rough, but it aids in keeping my control from slipping.
She leans back, and her hair fans out around her face against my sheets. Her shirt is half-raised, and her chest rises and falls rapidly as she bites her lip. My eyes lock on the movement, and I can’t stop myself from crawling forward, caging her in.
“Please, Brazen,” she begs.
