The stars swirl above. Snowflakes land on my lips.
He kisses one away.
Then he stops.
Dead still.
Because I’m not moving. I’m trembling.
“Noel,” he says, voice softer now. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Too okay.”
He watches me for a beat longer. Then drifts back an inch, giving me space I didn’t ask for—but maybe needed.
His voice is lower, steadier now. “I’ll wait.”
“Why?” I ask.
“You’re not ready.”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong.”
“No,” he says. “Just not rushing something that feels this good. Not gonna fuck it up by going too fast.”
I blink. “You thinkthisis good?”
He chuckles. “You don’t?”
I laugh, finally exhaling. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe.”
He drags a wet hand down his beard. “You’re trouble, Noel Hart.”
“You love it.”
“Goddamn right I do.”
We sit there for a minute. Steam curling around us. Bodies close. Breath still uneven. But grounded now. No rush. Justknowing.
“You ever gonna let me decorate that workbench?” I tease.
“Only if you do it naked.”
I roll my eyes. “Pervert.”
“You started it.”
I smile.
And then I do something insane.
I reach out and slide a hand along his chest. Slowly. Up to his shoulder. Let my fingers linger on his neck.
“Next time,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens.
“There will be a next time?” he says.
