We’re still sitting side by side on the couch as rain taps against the windows. My hands fidget with the sleeve of my cardigan, nerves crawling under my skin, intensifying with every second that passes.
I feel his eyes on me before I dare to glance up.
He’s not looking at my eyes, though; he’s fixed on my mouth.
My breath catches, my chest squeezing so tight I think it might hurt. My heart is pounding like it’s trying to climb out of me and hand itself to him.
Now I can’t stop staring athismouth.
Every time Noah speaks, every time his lips curve into that easy grin, something hot darts through me—want, fear, and hope all mixed together. The thought of kissing him has been circling me like a storm for days, gathering force until it’s the only thing left in my head.
His hand rests on his thigh, so near to mine that I could reach out and touch it.
My fingers tremble. I want to kiss him so badly.
But I don’t know if I can do this. My throat is tight, breath shallow, adrenaline buzzing in every nerve. Against my will, my mind drifts to how hands could be cruel, to how intimacy had been a punishment, a weapon, not a choice.
Then, with some effort, I force those thoughts away.Hehas no place here.
I think about Noah.
Noah, who never pushes. Noah, who makes space for me without making me feel small. Noah, who helps hold my fear so gently that sometimes I forget I’m holding it at all.
Noah, who always gives me choices.
The fear recedes enough for me to feel the want underneath it. I shift toward him, cautiously, afraid that if I move too fast, he’ll disappear. My hand shakes when I lift it, hovering for a second before I press it flat against his chest, right over his heart.
He goes still. I shouldn’t kiss him, it’s a terrible idea. Whatever this is, it can’t be real. He’s sunlight, and I’m the storm that could swallow him whole.
He deserves someone easy. Someone who doesn’t overthink every moment in life, who doesn’t even know how they can be touched now. Someone without the cracks I carry.
But as he licks his bottom lip, those thoughts falter, slipping through my fingers like water.
“Gabe?” His voice is a whisper. Confusion flickers in his eyes, but there’s more beneath that—there’s a heat I feel down to my toes.
I can’t answer. Can’t breathe enough to form words. I just hold my hand there, feeling the heavy thud of his heartbeat under my palm. The strength of him. And then, before I can lose my nerve, I lean in and press my mouth to his.
He exhales softly, like something in him has been wound tight and is finally letting go.
It’s soft at first, just a gentle press of lips. The kind of kiss that isn’t asking for anything but still gives everything. My heart stumbles, and a shaky sound slips from me.
His lips are warm against mine, coaxing me closer until I’m leaning into him without thinking. My hand fists in his shirt, clinging to him, because I need something to hold on to while the world shifts under my feet.
Noah kisses me like he has all the time in the world to explore me, the shape of my lips, the uneven hitch in my breath. He tilts his head, and his lips part just slightly, deepening the kiss. His fingers slide into my hair, and the touch is tender, combing through strands like he wants to soothe every part of me. My eyes flutter closed as my pulse roars in my ears.
Then, the first delicate brush of his tongue against my lower lip, seeking entry. Heat pools low in my stomach as I open for him, a quiet gasp escaping as his tongue meets mine.
The kiss is filled with a slow-burning hunger I don’t expect. His tongue strokes against mine, tasting me like I’mworth savoring. He groans into my mouth, making me feel lightheaded.
Every soft slide of his mouth over mine unravels something inside me that has been tied up for years. I feel wanted. Desired. But more than that, I feel safe. Taken care of. There’s no rush, no demand for more, just the simple truth that Noah wants to kiss me.
A whimper slips free when he deepens the kiss again, and he moans, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones like he’s mapping every inch of my face. My cock stirs, growing hard in my jeans, but there’s no urgency to it. Just the slow, aching realization that I can still want like this. That I can be wanted like this.
I didn’t realize how much I needed this from him—touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t take, doesn’t ask for more than I can give.
Noah kisses me through it, the sensual slide of his tongue against mine luring soft, broken sounds from my throat. He pulls back slightly, only far enough to let his breath ghost over my lips.
I blink my eyes open slowly, breath shaky, and see him looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world. His pupils are blown wide, the dark blue of his eyes swallowed by lust, lips kiss-swollen and shining faintly in the low light. His breathing is uneven, like kissing me has affected him just as much as it has undone me. He leans in until his forehead rests against mine, like he needs something to steady himself in the moment.
