“He and Theo get on great, actually. He’s easy to be around, and we have the gym and love of tattoos in common, so that sort of bonded us.”
I think again about my brother, the same thought I’ve had so many times over the years, how he usually gets on with everyone. Why does he always have to be so gruff with Ciarán? I know Ciarán pushes his buttons, but he didn’t always. When they first met years ago, he was nothing but nice to Aiden, while my brother just huffed and glared at him. And now it’s a battle of wills between them, and I’m afraid it’s Ciarán who’ll get his feelings hurt.
Noah grins, then sighs dramatically. “Neither of them appreciates my superior taste in music, though. I put on my eighties playlist yesterday, I’ve added some new tracks—puregold—and they both griped about how awful it was! It wasn’t awful, it was perfection.”
The conviction in his voice and the little pout on his face make me laugh. He turns to me, mock-offended, but the sight of him, sleep-warm, hair sticking up after drying at an odd angle, bottom lip pushed out slightly, makes the attraction I feel toward him burn even brighter.
“I like your music, you should play it more at home,” I whisper, and his eyes take on a radiant glimmer, affection shining through. All aimed toward me. It’s a lot to take, that look from someone as bright as Noah.
Before I think better of it, I reach out and run my thumb over his lower lip.
It’s full, soft. Warm against my touch.
Noah’s eyes darken instantly, his breath catching. The air between us shifts, turning heavy in a way that makes my pulse jump.
I don’t move my hand right away.
It’s reckless, the way my thumb lingers as heat stirs low in my stomach. And from the look in Noah’s eyes, he feels it, too. It’s like the entire world narrows to that point of contact, and time stalls, capturing this single moment.
His lips part, tongue peeking out to flick the pad of my thumb. My breath grows labored at the sight, and before I can do anything else, his lips close around it and he sucks. My cock hardens in reaction.
A needy sound escapes me, making his eyes flutter, and a moan leaves him. It’s like I can feel the wet heat of his mouth on every inch of my body. Then he pulls off with a wet pop, chest rising and falling deeply.
I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, we’re kissing. Something hungry sparks between us. It’s instant. His hand cupsthe back of my neck, thumb brushing over the hinge of my jaw, and my body burns with how badly I want him.
The kiss deepens, grows messy. His tongue brushes mine, and I whimper against his mouth, arching toward him before I can stop myself. Our cocks press together through fabric, and it feels so good, my eyes almost roll back.
Noah moves us with ease until he’s above me, settling between my legs. I bring my legs around his thighs, dragging him closer, as his weight pins me to the mattress. The thick outline of his cock presses against mine, hot and solid, his chest presses into mine—and suddenly I’m not here.
I’m in the past.
Back under someone else’s hands.
Breath knocked out of me.
Pinned.
Trapped.
Forced.
My whole body goes rigid. My hands claw at his hoodie. My breathing turns erratic, panic crawling fast up my throat.
Noah notices immediately. He freezes, then rolls off me without hesitation, putting us face-to-face again, both of us on our sides. His hand cups my cheek carefully, bringing me back to the moment. Back with him.
“Baby. Hey, look at me,” he says, his voice level. But his eyes are wide, guilt etched into his features as he searches my face.
I hate that look. I shake my head hard and kiss him before he can say more—messy, desperate. I need to get that look off his face. He didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t want to lose this moment because of my past. I don’t want to losehim.
When I pull back, my breath is still shaky, and he looks like he’s about to speak, but I cut him off, “Don’t. Don’t apologize. Please don’t.”
Noah hesitates, swallowing roughly as his eyes flick between mine. “Okay, maybe we should stop?”
“I don’t want to stop.” I tell him, his chest rises and falls deeply as fingers trace my throat. “Do you want to stop?”
He shakes his head slowly. “I never want to stop touching you, but I also don't ever want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You don't.” I respond truthfully. I kiss him again, slower this time, feeling the tension bleed out of me. The fear is still there, lingering in the back of my mind, but I push it away. It doesn’t belong here. This is Noah, and he’d never hurt me.
