Suddenly, the table felt too small, too intimate. I could smell him—wood smoke, clean soap, and something that made my hands twitch to reach for him without a second thought.
“I’m not,” I fibbed, my voice barely above a whisper.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Liar.”
I pushed my plate aside, the decision feeling weighty. “We should go.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he stood up, tossing some bills onto the table without even glancing at the check. As if nothing about tonight could distract him. Not the food. Not the noise.
Just me.
And the most unsettling part? I liked it.
---- ??? ----
The night wind danced through my hair as we sped down the road, the city lights merging into a blur of gold and red behind us. My arms were wrapped securely around Noah’s torso, my cheek resting against his back. The motorcycle’s engine growled beneath us, a deep, rhythmic thrum that vibrated through my thighs, making everything feel a touch less safe and a whole lot more alive.
Every curve of the road sent my body shifting against his, each sudden acceleration pressing my chest against his back, breath hitching in my throat.
I was acutely aware of everything. His strength. His warmth. His control, and beneath it all… the tension crackled between us, taut as a piano wire, ready to snap at any moment.
As we pulled into my driveway, the tires crunched softly on the pavement before he cut the engine, and silence washed over us like a gentle wave. I dismounted the bike slowly, my legs unsteady, the hem of my dress riding high on my thighs. I could feel his gaze on me as I adjusted it—slow, deliberate, and ultimately futile. The air between us ignited like a spark waiting to catch fire.
He swung his leg over and stood, looming over me in the shadowy darkness. The porch light behind me cast his face in shadow, but I could still see it—theheat simmering in his eyes. A storm barely restrained beneath the surface.
“You good?”
he asked, his voice low and rough. I nodded, a simple
“Yeah”
slipping from my lips. But inside, I was a tempest, buzzing with a restless energy.
Then he stepped closer, bridging the gap between us. I stayed rooted to the spot.
“Sunshine,”
He said, the sound hanging in the air like both a warning and a prayer.
“Yeah?”
I replied, curiosity laced with a hint of apprehension. He looked at me as if he was trying to hold back the chaos that was swirling between us. And then, he made his choice.
“Fuck it.”
And he kissed me.
It wasn’t a question—it was a collision of souls. His mouth crashed into mine with an insatiable hunger that left me breathless. His hands cradled my jaw before tangling in my hair, tilting my head back just enough so he could deepen the kiss. It was passionate, fierce, and completely, overwhelmingly real.
I gasped against him, and he let out a low groan, pressing me back until my spine met the porch railing. His hips anchored me in place, his body radiating warmth, strength, and a reckless determination.
I clutched the front of his jacket, my fingers digging into the leather, trying to steady myself against the wildfire he ignited within me. His tongue slipped into my mouth, exploring and claiming, as if he were trying to imprint my taste in his memory.
One of his hands slid down, fingers brushing the side of my breast before settling at my waist—his grip firm, possessive. He pressed against me, and I felt the undeniable evidence of his desire, making my legs tremble. Without thinking, I arched into him. My dress crept up another inch, his thigh sliding between mine.
I let out a quiet, desperate moan, and that sound unraveled something deep within him. He kissed me harder, more fiercely. It felt like we were racing against time. His mouth traveled from mine to my neck, biting and kissing the tender skin beneath my ear, then lower—his breath a warm whisper against my throat.
“Fuck, Liz,” he murmured, his voice raw with need. “You taste like sin.”
