He merely offered himself.
In his own sweet, wonderful way.
And himself was all she wanted.
She released her hold of his hand and slid her palm up to his chest, grasping the lapel of his coat. The heat in her eyes turned to warm tears.
Could God really offer her something so beautiful? Someone so … extraordinary?
“If you want.”
His palm smoothed over her cheek, followed by the other, framing her face, warming her cheeks. “Oh, I want.” The rumbled words held her captive, reverberating in her chest and skittering her pulse into a faster beat.
She wanted too.
His kiss. Him. This unbelievable affection and care she didn't deserve. Her breath caught just as their mouths touched. The fresh scent of soap tinged with a leather scent wafted over her in time with the soft brush of his lips against hers.
Barely a stroke of skin against skin, but enough to incite an explosion in her chest. So gentle.
At first.
But only at first.
Because then, as if the brief taste failed to serve its purpose, one of his hands slid down to capture her waist, drawing her even more tightly against him. Her free arm slipped up his chest, hooking around his neck, cherishing the full and incomparable feeling of being held … kissed by him.
Warmth cascaded through her, wrapping her heart in as much of an embrace as Noah's arms, promising something she'd missed far too long.
Home.
She hadn't felt home in so long and never expected to find it in a person, but as certain as the sky was blue, her heart belonged to Noah Lewis.
He pulled back only enough for her to feel his lips spread into a smile against hers. He wanted her. To kiss her. And, as if for further proof, he kissed her again, lengthening the embrace a little longer. Another second. Or ten.
A wonderful cascade of flutters poured through her and then … something different.
Another fluttering. Different.
She drew back this time, her mind foggy from his thorough attention.
How did she know that feeling? It was strangely familiar.
“I suppose we ought to get out of here before Sykes returns.” Noah pressed another kiss to her lips.
“We'd do more harm for ourselves if we were caught in a closet together, Mr. Lewis.”
His chuckle warmed the space between them, and he shifted away from her toward the door, bringing her with him.
The room lay in shadows, the last bits of sunset barely bleeding into the space. Noah turned back to her, his face close enough for her to make out the smallest grin.
“I believe I've developed a newfound appreciation for closets, Kizzie McAdams.”
She stifled her laugh and squeezed his hand. “I certainly never paired them with kisses, but I'm perfectly fine with the idea.” Her gaze slipped to his. “Especially if they're yours.”
His grin spread wider, and he looked as if he might lean over and kiss her again but then caught himself, offering her a wink instead. “We'd better take advantage of what time we have left. If I start kissing you again, I may lose all sense of time and place.”
Her cheeks heated at the implication. “I can certainly see that as a nuisance at the moment.”
“Indeed. A nuisance to have to wait to indulge a little longer.”
