This kiss holds a different type of intent and urgency, promising sweet oblivion if I can let go of the fact that we’re technically in public, although hidden by a plenty leafy tree.
I’m surprised my mind goes there so quickly, despite being painfully aware how long it’s been since anyone has, including me. Emotionally, I’ve got to be there toget there, but as his large hands glide higher on my upper thighs, fingertips mere inches from where I want them most, I know that wouldn’t be an issue with Noah.
We’ve done everything in the wrong order, yet it’s such a relief to finally be kissing him, I can’t seem to stop.
“Goddamn, Mia.” His exhale stirs the sticky hair at my nape, and we’re both panting and giggly and a hint delirious. “You kiss your grandma with that mouth?”
I laugh and coast my mouth across his cheek to nip gently at his ear. “It’s been building up for a while.”
Iron fingers dig into my sides, holding me perfectly still as his erection strains against the denim of his jeans. He slides his hands up my sides to fiddle with the strap that’s slipped off my shoulder, raising a questioning eyebrow as he moves to do the same to the other.
I nod, incapable of speech once again, and my skin pebbles as he peels down the top of my dress, baring more of me to his hungry gaze. Ever so slowly, he lowers his lips to kiss the exposed skin, his low hum of satisfaction radiating through every inch of me.
As someone who craves control, it’s almost scary how willing I am to hand it over to him, but intimacy and sex are the one area of my life I don’t want to ponder or orchestrate. Nothing hits the brakes on an orgasm quite like overthinking, and I long to be uninhibited and fully present with Noah in a way I rarely am.
Fabric puddles around my elbows, and the air in my lungs leaves me in a dizzying rush.
Noah palms a breast, groaning as he squeezes, and my nipples harden and send a shockwave down my core as he continues to gape in astonishment.
“Mia, I…” Not only does the way he says my name do something twisty to my insides, the strain in his voice floods me with relief—it means I’m not the only one so affected I can hardly speak. “Here I thoughtI’d be the one to show you a spectacular view.”
My cheeks flame, and if my heart could talk, it’d be whispering his name.
I shudder as he glides his palms up my inner thighs, pausing torturously close before asking, “Can I—?”
“Yes,” I answer, desperate for him to continue his ascent.
Unyielding lips capture mine as he skirts the triangle of fabric covering my sex, his movements hungry and confident in all the ways I’m not but am gradually learning how to be.
Then he touches me.
A keening, plea-filled sound escapes as he strokes me over the gauzy fabric, unguarded and raw. But before I can be too embarrassed, Noah groans and sinks his teeth into my lower lip, the gentle sting heightening the incredible sensations shivering through me.
Whooshgoes my breath as he drags a couple of fingertips over my clit, and worries and cares? What are those?
I’m too concerned with Noah’s hands and mouth and tongue.
Since I’m also learning to be bolder myself, I do some exploring of my own. I slip my hands beneath the hem of his shirt, savoring the dips and grooves of his torso before peeling the fabric up and over his head.
I accidentally end up binding his arms in the process, robbing myself of his ministrations, and he grips the collar and jerks it off with an impatient grunt.
“Thanks,” I say, “I was struggl—”
Noah arches his hips up off the seat, pushing his steely length tight against my core while anchoring me to him with the arm he’s banded around my waist. Noises I’ve never made before escape as my head lolls forward, a rag doll coming to rest on his shoulder.
It also provides me the leverage I need to lift myself an inch or so off him, only to sink onto his lap farther with a languid roll of my hips.
“Noah.” Half rasp, half plea, I exhale his name as he reaches between us and strokes me.
I plant my hands on his shoulders and steer the kiss, the pressure of his fingers and friction of the lace so deliciously divine. The humidity’s cranked the temperature to a sweaty, carnal inferno, and my hair sticks to my neck and forehead, but I’m too close to care. Pressure builds within me, intoxicating and bubbly, andoh sweet Jesus, I haven’t come through dry humping since college.
But selfishly, deliriously, as Noah wrings out every ounce of pleasure he can, I’m just glad the person getting some action is finally, blissfully me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lately I’ve been walking home to spend my lunch hour with Grandma Helen, Wanda, and whoever else is around, but when I let myself inside, Fifi is the only one there to greet me.
She circles my ankles, dragging her tail across my shins, then bosses me over to her bowl for treats.
