More footsteps. Kizzie's fingers tightened in his. He brought his free arm around her waist to assure her. The subtle scent of lavender invaded each breath, and he leaned a little closer. How soft was her hair? Or her lips?
“Seems to me, the noise was nothing more than Mr. Lewis’ papers and a couple of books falling out of an overcrowded desk.”
Noah stilled. But did George usually leave his desk closed and locked? He racked his brain to recall such a simple answer.
“I've warned him to keep it closed, if not locked,” Sykes murmured. “We can't cover every inch of the mill all night long, and if he wants to keeps his papers safe, he ought to lock the desk.”
“Perhaps he left in a hurry.” Jones continued on, his footsteps moving away from the closet. “You know how these young business owners can be.”
“He's always in some kind of hurry, ain't he?” A sound like a snort followed. “If his father could see him, he'd be none too pleased, is all I have to say.”
“Should we clean up, or leave it for morning?”
A large sigh sounded. “I suppose we'd better at least get them off the floor.” Sykes growled out the words, and the sound of papers swishing followed. The steady roll of the desk cover came next followed by a click of the top in place.
Noah's shoulders dropped. If they opened the desk again and the papers or books fell out, Sykes would certainly know someone had been in the room.
“I heard tell Mrs. Morris left some of her sponge cake in the store,” Jones said. “Why don't we have a piece before I head off for the night? No one makes sponge cake like Mrs. Morris.”
A grumbling assent followed, and the footsteps left the room. Noah waited. They should give the men a few minutes to make it down to the first floor again. Kizzie's hair brushed against his chin as she shifted, and he tightened his hold on her waist.
Their hiding spot was now in complete darkness, with only the smell and feel of her to tease his senses.
But that was more than enough.
Her breath hit his chin, which meant she must be looking up at him.
His free palm slid up her arm to her shoulder, his fingers brushing against her braid. Soft. Smooth. Like glass.
As he touched her chin, her breath caught, and the sound, highlighted in the dark, brought him nearer. He didn't need to see to know exactly where her lips were, but … would she let him kiss her?
Kizzie's heart thrummed in her chest.
At first, the beat pounded because of Sykes’ entrance into the room outside their hiding spot and the fear of discovery.
But then, as the footsteps disappeared down the hallway, her pulse shuddered for a new reason. Noah's pressure against her back gentled, changing from a protective hold to something … sweeter. She hadn't been this close to a man since Charles.
And never to one she admired as much as Noah.
Admired? She raised her chin, his face lost in the darkness. No. Even more than admired. She loved him.
In a way unlike anything she'd known with Charles.
Stronger and deeper.
One of his hands gently moved to her shoulder, sending tingles over her skin and awakening her pulse to an even faster thrum.
And then, his fingers touched her cheek.
She drew in a quick breath at the warmth, the intimacy, at the way her entire body hummed to life from his skin against hers.
“Kizzie?” His whispered word rasped, and her body rose to meet the entreaty.
“Yes?” She barely voiced the response.
His face had to be terribly close. The hand around her waist smoothed up her back, the movement catching her breath completely. “May I kiss you?”
The sweetness in his request, the tenderness in his voice, stung her eyes. He didn't take from her or coax her into a response. There was no guilt, manipulation, or bribery.
