I run my other hand along his forearm, up his bicep, until my fingers sink into his curls. And yes, they are as silky and perfect as they look.
Noah’s lips are whispers from mine, but I don’t lunge at him like I’m aching to. The build-up, the anticipation… It’s the best part. I only get to kiss this beautiful, anomaly of a man for the first time once.
Don’t let it go too far, Esme…
“Esme…”
His lips press against mine for long seconds before the hand on my back shoves me further into the contours of his body. He coaxes my lips apart, deepening the kiss, and the taste of mangos once again explodes across my tongue. His fingers feather down my neck before he lightly pulls at the hair at the base of my head, eliciting a surrendering moan from the depths of my soul.
I finally understand what the authors of romance novels mean when they describe a first kiss as electrifying. My body is vibrating under his touch, his kiss. It buzzes and hums, lighting me from the inside out. And I know if I opened my eyes, the sunset would somehow be brighter and more beautiful than ever before.
Kissing Noah is not vanilla.
It is a five-layered cake made with exotic ingredients that wax and wane on your tongue.
And I think I finally understand what it means to bealive.
I think my heart has stumbled into its home.But I can’t bring myself to admit that.
“Ashley,” he says breathlessly, his light eyes searching mine as if he can see the most intricate parts of me. “I’m Noah Ashley Ashton.”
Chapter Three
A Familiar Sound ~ late June
Standing outside Main Street Coffee, the local coffee shop inside of a vibrant red brick building on the corner of, you guessed it, Main Street, I smooth down my brown plaid pleated pants and check that my boobs aren’t showing through my deep vee white blouse. Only the peek of a crease, so I’m good. I take a steadying breath before squaring my shoulders, clutching my leather satchel, and reaching for the glass door. I eye the blueberries painted on the glass pane, leftover from the town’s annual Blueberry Jubilee a few weeks ago, as I open the door.
An arm intricately tattooed with woven briars and roses pushes from the other side.
“Oh, sorry. I—” My words trail off as I take in the tall, buff man who resembles a wall if I’m honest. He’s just so… massive. But when I reach his face, I gasp, my satchel sliding off my shoulder as my hands rush to cover my opened mouth.No wonder his tattoo looked familiar.
This man is identical to my male main character, Noah. He sports dark, curly hair, though his hair is more tame than Iimagine Noah’s to be. He has entrancing hazel eyes that look like they’re glittering, but his irises are a deeper green than Noah’s. The tanned skin, pointed nose, and a chiseled jaw that’s covered with a five-o-clock shadow, however, is one hundred percent my leading hero.
He isnotfrom Whitney, Mississippi. That’s for sure. The town would have tried to set me up with him as they have done with every single man around my age, which there aren’t many. Only Sheriff Vincent Hodges, Jay McBride, and Luke Benson, to be precise. I grew up with Luke and Jay, and I have no interest in them because they both are rodeo boys, and I want nothing to do with horses or bulls. Those massive monsters terrify me. Respectively, they have no interest in me because my nose is always stuck in a book, and well, we all survived middle school together. Outside of sharing a few dances with both guys at The Wild Whitney a few Saturday nights out of the year when I’m coerced out of my camper by Ethan and Sam, we don’t talk that much. Sheriff Hodges, at thirty-seven, feels a little too old for my nearly twenty-seven, though I don’t look down upon the women who like their men older. It’s just not my taste.
And the town knows better than to try and pair me with Bryan again. I shudder.
I often wonder why Bryan chose to stay here instead of moving back into Jackson with his family after he left me at the altar. It’s like he’s lurking around the edges of town, waiting for something, though I don’t know what.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
His voice has depth and richness as it echoes in my soul. It’s exactly how I hear Noah in my head. Glancing at his tattoo until it disappears behind his rolled, black sleeve, it’s a mix of ivy and briars with roses and thorns. Just like Noah, only on the other arm.I wonder if he has a cross underneath that sleeve of his.
“How is this real life?” I murmur, bewildered at this encounter. My emotions are jumbled; this man is like Noah jumped right out of the pages.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” the man asks, his tone perplexed.
I snap out of my trance and pull my gaze back to his face as heat crawls up my neck over my brassiness to stare at this perfect stranger. And I do meanperfect. “I’m so sorry; it’s just you look exactly like how I picture a character in a book I’m writing.”
This stranger’s smile is brilliant, and it dawns on me who he is. “Oh, really? Are you Lorraine E. Jenkins by any chance?”
“Yes.” I shake my head, rushing my next words. “Well, it’s Esme, actually. Lorraine is my middle name. I’m using it to publish my book. And you are…” I trail off, waiting for him to fill in the gap even though I know exactly who this handsome stranger is. I need him to talk so that I will stop rambling about my name.
“Nikhil Prewitt.” He shoots out a large, veiny hand. “But I go by my middle name, Ashton. I’m a literary agent and the owner of Prewitt Publishing.”
A broad smile sweeps across my face, mirroring his. I slip my hand into his and give it a firm shake.I’m shaking hands with my book character!If the book ever becomes a movie, this guy has to play Noah. Or Justin Baldoni. But I think this man in front of me fits the bill more perfectly than my beloved Baldoni boy.
Hold your horses, Esme. Book deal first.
