He was quiet for a long time, studying me in that intense way of his. “What are you looking for, Sam?”
I met his gaze across the flickering firelight, my heart thundering even louder than the real thunder booming in the sky. The question lingered, heavy with possibility.
Noah’s eyes dropped to my lips, and I found myself wanting to lean forward, as if drawn by some magnetic force.
“Well, Sam?” Noah asked again. “What is it you want?”
I stared into the fire, surprised to find I didn’t have a ready answer. “I used to know. I wanted to tell stories. Real stories. About real people. People like my parents. Not just what looks good on a plate, but the hands that made it, the traditions behind it.” I sighed. “Somewhere along the way, I got caught up in the filters and follower counts. And now my apartment is full of crap no real person would ever really want.”
“You could still do that,” Noah said. “Tell those stories.”
“Maybe.” I forced a laugh, then busied myself with arranging the remaining food, very aware of how the blanket slipped on my shoulder. “Right now? I’m looking for a man with dry socks and underwear.” I helped myself to another truffle, needing a distraction.
“You’ve got a little ...” He gestured to my mouth.
“Where?” I swiped at my lips with the back of my hand.
“No, here.” Noah leaned forward, his thumb brushing softly across my bottom lip to wipe away a smudge of chocolate. His touch lingered for just a moment too long.
My breath caught in my throat. Even in the dim firelight, I could see the intensity in his eyes as Noah’s gaze dropped to my lips, and the air between us seemed to thicken. He leaned forward slightly, the movement so subtle I might have imagined it.
“Sam,” he said, my name barely more than a breath.
The blanket slipped slightly from my shoulder. Noah’s eyes followed the movement, darkening as more skin was revealed. His hand reached out, fingers hovering just above my collarbone, not quite touching.
“Maybe I should check on the horses,” he said, but made no move to get up.
Time seemed to stretch in slow motion. My heart hammered so hard that I was sure he could hear it over the storm. I leaned forward, closing the distance between us by the smallest fraction, a question in the movement.
Noah’s hand finally made contact with my skin, his fingers tracing the curve of my shoulder. Soft. Gentle. The touch sent electricity racing through me.
“This is a bad idea,” he murmured, even as his hand slid to the nape of my neck.
“Definitely,” I agreed, tilting my face up toward his. “Terrible idea.”
“We hardly know each other.” His fingers tangled in my damp hair.
“Practically strangers,” I whispered against his lips.
And then he was kissing me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Noah’s lips were softer than I’d imagined, but the pressure was firm. He tasted of chocolate and rain and something wild I couldn’t name. My hands found their way to his chest, palms pressing against warm skin and hard muscle.
The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance that made me forget about storms and lost phones and everything else in the universe. Noah’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until I was practically in his lap, the blanket barely staying in place between us.
His hand slid up my bare back beneath the blanket, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, kissing me harder, more urgently.
We broke apart, breathless, foreheads touching. Noah’s eyes were dark, pupils dilated in the firelight.
“Still think this is a bad idea?” I whispered.
“Definitely.” Noah’s thumb traced across my lip one more time before his hand slid to cup my cheek. His lips met mine again, and I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his damphair. His powerful arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. The rough wool of the blanket scratched against my breasts as he drew me closer. I breathed in his scent, pine needles and wood-smoke and mountain rain. A small sound escaped my throat as his tongue traced my bottom lip.
The wool blanket drifted further down my shoulders, exposing the top curve of my breasts.
Noah’s curtain cover loosened around his waist, falling open almost wide enough to …
