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This idea was stupid. It was torture.
He’d realized it during the wedding, the second his lips met hers. It should have been a quick peck. She wasn’t in love with him, this wasn’t real, and Claire and a ninety-year-old judge had been watching them. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself from pressing just a little closer, just for one second more. Her palm had gently touched his abdomen, and it had taken everything in him not to haul her up against him, wrap her legs around his waist, and take her to the nearest room where they could be alone.
The things he would do to her...
He’d known living with her would be difficult. But now that he knew the softness of her lips, the feel of her breath against his skin?
He wouldn’t survive it.
A low groan escaped his throat and he rubbed a hand down his face just as his phone lit up on his bedside table.
Mia:You up?
Noah:Are you texting me from the next room?
Mia:Yeah. Is this weird?
Yes. It shouldn’t have been, though. How many nights had they spent texting for hours from their next-door bedrooms mere yards away, because it was too cold to meet in the tree house?
Noah:Nope. Feels like high school.
Noah:You okay?
She didn’t reply for several minutes. What was going through her mind? When she’d asked him the other day if he’d rather fly or read minds, he’d said fly, and meant it. Mia was open with her thoughts, and honest to a fault. He didn’t think she hid anything deep inside.
Not like he did.
Plus, he figured it might just bring him down to find out she didn’t think about him as much as he did her.
But right now? He sort of wanted to change his answer. Today had been weird, and they hadn’t spoken much, and he needed to know what she was thinking. He hoped like hell she didn’t regret this.
He heard a crash in the next room and was on his feet in a flash, ice-cold fear shooting through him. Did she fall? Was she sick? She’d looked kind of pale when they’d finished unpacking—had she pushed too hard?
He tore into her dark room, eyes searching. He found her hunched form on the floor next to the desk.
Noah lurched forward and knelt beside her. “Mia? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She swept the mane of dark hair back from her face, sending the sweetest scent of vanilla in his direction.
“I’m fine,” she grunted. “I thought it was stupid to be texting you and got out of bed to come talk to you. I’m not familiar with the room yet and walked right into the chair.”
Relief whooshed out of him on an exhale. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry.” She looked up at him, and he realized his hand was spanning her back. Touching the soft, warm skin at the base of her neck. He pulled his hand away and she made to stand, wobbling a little.
He rose with her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head as she straightened all the way. “I just hit my knee.”
Her eyes did a slow sweep of his body, and he was keenly aware he was shirtless. He’d kept shorts on because it felt weird to sleep in only his boxer briefs with her there, and in that moment, he’d never been more thankful for the foresight.
His skin felt hot and he fisted his hands at his sides, trying not to notice the curve of her shoulder or the delicate outline of her collarbone.
“What did you want to talk about?” he managed to get out.
Her eyes snapped to his face. “Oh. I, um, I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. It kind of hit me all at once that we actually went through with it. What you did for me.” Her brown irises appeared almost black as they bounced back and forth between his. “I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”
“Stop saying that. I told you, it’s enough for me to see you happy.”
