Not this.
And now, dripping and grinning, I was glad he’d found me.
“You’re feeling blue, Storm?” Noah said effortlessly. It should’ve offended me, but I was lapping it up. Damn, it was so good to have his attention.
“So what?”
“We need to fix that,” he said.
The barn doors creaked as the last of the hands left, and Noah watched them go.
Then, without a word, he took a step forward.
Oh.
He took the hose from my hand and tossed it aside.
Then, before I could react, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the barn.
My breath hitched. “Noah?—”
The door swung open.
And then, he locked it behind us.
I stared at him, my pulse hammering, my back against the wall.
Noah stepped closer, his eyes holding mine.
The playfulness was gone.
I barely had time to breathe before Noah had me pinned against the rough wooden wall of the barn. His hands were on my hips, firm and possessive, his body still damp from the water fight outside. The scent of sweat, sun, and something purelyhimwrapped around me, tightening with every ragged breath.
“Well, cowboy,” I taunted, dragging my fingers down his chest and feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch. “Is this how you fix things? Careful now, I’m fragile.”
His jaw clenched, the sharp edge of control barely holding back whatever fire burned behind those dark eyes.
“Oh, Blue Storm,” he murmured, his voice thick and threaded with something dangerous. Something I wanted more of. “You’re anything but fragile.”
My palm drifted lower, brushing over the bulge straining against his jeans.
And he made damn sure I knew just how little he believed me.
His mouth crashed against mine, claiming and devouring, his hands already tearing at my soaked tank top. The fabric clung to my skin, resisting for a second before he peeled it off, leaving me bare in the warm light of the barn. His handsroamed, rough and reverent, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to savor or consume.
I wasn’t patient enough to let him decide.
I shoved at his shirt, yanking it over his head, my hands skimming the ridges of muscle and the flex of his abs as he sucked in a sharp breath. The air between us was charged with something hotter than the space heater Noah had been keeping an eye on.
“Baby,” I breathed, gripping his belt, ready to tear it off his jeans.
His fingers curled around mine, halting me. “Not yet,” he rasped, his lips ghosting over my collarbone and down the line of my throat. “You’re not nearly desperate enough for me.”
I let out a breathless laugh, arching into him. “You think so?”
His hands were already on my shorts, sliding them down with slow precision. The denim hit the hay-strewn floor, and I shivered as the cool air met my overheated skin. Noah’s palms skated up my thighs, a quiet reverence in the way he touched me.
But then, just when I thought I had the upper hand, he turned me.
