And I flip the phone screen-side down on the countertop before Noah's text appears. My heart beats hard and fast as I stare at my phone as the text message sound rings.
I'm not sure I want to know what he said.
Flashes of Friday night come to my mind, unabashed and unfiltered. The way his lips felt. The way he kissed me like he wanted to devour me whole. The way his hard, strong body dwarfed mine in the best way.
The way his obvious erection pressed against my stomach when he pulled me into him.
I felt like a woman for the first time in, well, forever.
Heat pools low in my belly at the memory. I haven't felt this kind of raw, aching want in years.
Mitchell never made me feel like this. With Noah, I felt like my skin was too tight and my body hummed with electricity just from being in the same room.
I glance at the clock and realize I can do whatever I want.
No kids. No dinner rush. No homework. No bedtime routine.
Just me. Alone. In my quiet house. Horny and free.
I decide to ignore my phone for now and head upstairs, already unbuttoning my blouse.
A hot shower. That's what I need. Something to wash away the stress of the day and clear my head.
I strip off my work clothes and leave them in a pile on the bathroom floor. It's something I never do, but today I don't care. I turn the shower as hot as it will go and step under the spray, letting the water beat down on my wings, my shoulders, and my neck.
Steam rises around me, and I close my eyes, tipping my head back.
My hands move over my body almost automatically, soaping, rinsing, working the tension out of my muscles.
But my mind wanders.
And so do my fingers.
My hand drifts lower, between my thighs, and I let out a shaky breath. It's been so long. So long since I let myself feel this. Since I let myself want. I touch myself slowly, my mind supplying images I've been trying not to think about all weekend.
Noah in nothing but a towel, water dripping down his chest.
Noah's hands on my waist, pulling me closer.
Noah's mouth trailing down my neck, my collarbone, lower to my breasts. And then lower and lower between my thighs.
My finger slips inside me, and I find myself wet, my clit buzzing with sensation as I brush over it, already sensitive. A soft moan escapes my throat, and I bite my lip to stifle it.
This is insane. I'm standing in my shower, fantasizing like some kind of desperate romance novel heroine.
But I can't stop.
And I need more.
I step out of the shower, my skin flushed and damp, and loosely wrap a towel around myself. My body is still humming, still aching for release. I can feel how wet I am, how needy.
I cross to my bed and let the towel fall open, then I lie back against the pillows. My hair is soaking into the fabric, but I don't care. I reach into my bedside drawer and pull out my vibrator. It's a simple, discreet device I haven't used in longer than I care to admit.
The low hum fills the quiet room as I turn it on, and I close my eyes, letting my mind drift back to Noah.
His hands. His mouth. The thought sends a jolt of heat through me, and I press the vibrator against my clit, my breathing quickening.
I'm so lost in the sensation, in the fantasy, that when my mouth opens, it's his name that slips out like a prayer I don't believe in.
