Tilting my head, I chase him, deepening the kiss in tiny, fragileincrements, like we’re both afraid to break it. Like if we move too fast, it might shatter.
When I finally do pull back, breathless, and aching, my lips swollen, my chest a riot, Nolan doesn’t say a word.
Dark, heavy-lidded eyes watch me. We’ve undone something in each other.
Heart thundering, I take a shaky breath and step back.
His hand lifts mine again, he presses a second kiss to the knuckles. A little smug. A little reverent. All heat.
“Sleep well, Adams.” He turns and walks away.
My mouth is still tingling. Nolan’s kiss carved itself into me, like it knew it was meant to stay.
What am I supposed to do with that?
CHAPTER 19
PENITENT DICK ERA (™)
NOLAN
I’mon cloud fucking nine when Rishi’s text comes through.
Yo. How’d the steak turn out? Medium rare perfection or amateur hour?
Didn’t get to it.
???
Ran into Rorie Adams.
Ran into? As in physically? Or biblically?
We talked. That’s it.
Uh huh. And by “talked” you mean?—
I mean TALKED, you menace.
Damn. Wasted steak and sexualtension?
Tragic.
I took the day off. And now I’m pacing my apartment like a man waiting for a transplant. Which, in a way, I am.
My new couch is due to arrive any minute now, and I keep checking my phone even though the delivery window still saystwenty to forty minutes.I’m hitting refresh like that will magically make the truck teleport to my doorstep.
The living room looks empty as hell—no couch, no coffee table, no remnants of tastefully displayed furniture. Nothing but a bare floor and wide open space.
It’s the best kind of empty. A Chloe-free zone. Like my dick. And my life.
After getting the all-clear on my lab results, I decided it was time for a cleanse. Spiritually, emotionally, sexually. The couch she swore was“elevated and European”but felt like it belonged in a dentist’s waiting room?
Gone.
Hauled out like the poor choice it was.
The chic, soul-sucking coffee table with the razor-sharp corners that murdered my shins at least once a week?
