It was absolutely infuriating, but also…so freaking sexy!
"More than a fling looks like…taking you out on a real date. Appetizers, main course, dessert, and then drinks…the whole shebang. Then…bringing you home. Kissing you at the door, hoping you invite me in.”
I just stared back at him. But, yeah, I’d totally invite him in.
“What else?” I asked, heat curling low in my belly.
“Making plans. Supporting each other.” He set his mug aside, then took mine and did the same. “Building something that lasts.”
“I could meet your fish,” I said, barely above a whisper.
“You could absolutely meet my fish.” He moved closer.
And then—finally!—he kissed me.
Tender at first, like he didn’t want to rush it. Like he was giving me room to change my mind.
But I didn’t. God, I didn’t.
Everything in me leaned toward him. Every heartbeat. Every breath.
His hand tugged on the back of my neck, and I climbed into his lap.
Right here. I belonged right here.
My thighs locked around his hips, and I felt it—all of it. His heat, his strength, his hands gripping my waist like he’d never let go.
His tongue played with mine, and I swear, besides vaguely thinking that he kissed even better than I remembered, my brain short-circuited.
Everything in me went warm and tight and needy.
I clutched the back of his neck, holding on, angling closer, loving the way the scruff on his jaw scraped my skin.
We were sharing the same air, and when I shifted against him, he made this sound in the back of his throat.
“Noah,” I said. How was this even better than before?
“Wait.” He pulled back, breath shallow. “No more misunderstandings…”
And then, leaving one hand on my hip, he used the other to lift my chin.
"Luna Faraday, will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, eyes crinkling at the corners, voice gone almost shy. "God, does that sound ridiculous?"
I laughed—an unexpected breathless sound. Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes.
"Not ridiculous at all," I said.
Except…this would mean a pseudo long-distance relationship, wouldn’t it? And I hadn’t forgotten that he’d admitted that his long hours, the demands of his work, had been a problem in his marriage.
“Do you have time to be someone’s boyfriend?” I had to ask even though most of me was ready to go all in with him. Even, I realized, if it meant we only saw each other a few times a month.
“I think,” he said. “That when you love someone. You make time.”
"When you…love someone?"
I felt the love in his gaze…all over.
"Yeah.” His voice was low and rough, and the word shot straight to my heart. "I do. I love you. And I’ve been trying to figure out when exactly that happened… but the truth is, it wasn’t just one moment. It was a bunch of them, piling up. Until all the reasons why we shouldn’t be an us didn’t matter anymore.”
