He takes up so much of the cart with his burly frame, scruffy jaw, and crooked grin. His arms don’t have veins, they have roadmaps that carry blood to and from his heart, and speaking of the life-giving organ, I’ve never seen a guy take better care of his family.
Even on days they drive him crazy.
Just do it. Nike up and flash him.
A quick glance confirms we’re still alone and shrouded by pendulous branches that swish lightly in the breeze.
I’ve had the perfect amount of laughing, connecting, and gin, and the stars have perfectly aligned, so I stop the negativewhat-ifsswirling through my head and flip the questions back around.
What if we just let ourselves enjoy a perfect night?
What if this is exactly what I need?
What if I just wanted something and went for it?
I don’t think about the fact that this is temporary or the likelihood of my heart getting bruised. I curl my fingers in the hem of my skirt and hike it higher a trembling inch at a time.
Air that holds the promise of rain kisses the tippy tops of my bare thighs, and Noah’s jaw falls open and hangs ajar. His chest rises and falls with quick, shallow breaths, and the bob of his throat renews my urge to lick the stubbled skin.
Then his mouth is on mine again.
Each and every cell of my body fires and zings as our lips find their own rhythm, both of us fervid in our mission of tasting, exploring…devouring.
As he strokes his tongue over mine, igniting a fire he so exquisitely feeds, I mentally declare this the best decision I’ve ever made—and that’s even with the strip of lace permanently wedged between my butt cheeks.
Around Noah, all my emotions are heightened, so big and unwieldy they demand to be felt. Our chemistry is off-the-charts combustible, like hydrogen and oxygen that, when combined, can create harmonious, life-giving water…or cause an explosion.
Rather than focus on the possibility of the latter, I let the tap within me flow as fast as the groping of our hands and the plundering of our mouths. I’m more alive than I’ve ever been, and this is so much more than mutual attraction and slaking my lust.
He pays such tender attention, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tongue. Each time he caresses or kisses a new spot, he studies it as though committing it to memory. It’s the type of affection and fascination I’ve always craved, and having it aimed so unreservedly at me makes me finally feel seen for who I truly am. The naked awe on his face boosts my confidence to levels I’ve only ever dreamed of before, inspiring me to be as bold as the makeup and lingerie.
My hands are in his hair, my heart is in his hands.
Firm fingers band my hips, lifting and maneuvering me to straddle his lap while he deepens the kiss, and I love how deftly he takes control—it means I don’t have to think at all.
Arms winding tighter, as if I’d dare leave now, his whiskers abrade the sensitive skin of my neck as he paints hot, open-mouth kisses along the column.
His arousal grows more insistent between my thighs, the hardness and heat pressed up exactly where I want it. He dips his head and forges a path across the line of my collarbone, nipping and licking me into needy oblivion.
I tip my head to the side, dizzy and breathless as I grant him full access.
He takes it, too, the glide of his mouth and tongue from neck to jaw to my lips resulting in a lightheaded free fall. I have no doubt he’ll catch me, and it’s exhilarating and I’m completely enthralled, and my God, the man cankiss. Then he pulls back, everything except the noisy creatures we’ve been putting on a show for, grinding to a halt. Suddenly self-conscious, I straighten and shake the curls out of my eyes, racing to figure out why our make-out session has come to a standstill, as I certainly wasn’t finished.
What I see causes my breath to lodge in my throat.
Noah, the same hulking dude who takes up so much space and oxygen wherever he goes, is as undone as previously claimed.
His arms hang heavily at his sides, almost as if he’s surrendered use of them. He swallows hard, every feature rigid, and desire streaks through me at the naked hunger in eyes narrowed on my breasts. Boosted to their fullest potential by lavish lingerie I probably would’ve claimed wasn’t worth it yesterday, and I totally take it back. Noah’s all hard planes and angles, a rubber band about to snap, yet it softens him in all the ways that make him easier to dive into.
We collide in the middle, panted breaths, impatient hands, and a tango we dance with our mouths. He’s giving me life with each brush of lips and tongue, and I whimper and cling tighter, encouraging him to go ahead and dip me as far as he wants.
My hips roll of their own accord, needing more of him on more of me, and we both groan at the friction.
Then he’s the one diving—headfirst into my cleavage, and I gasp at the scrape of his beard and teeth. I wrap myself around him like we’re in the eye of a storm, while the world around us whirls.
What else am I to do but cling tighter?
Noah slows the pace, cupping the back of my head and angling my mouth so it meets his.
