His hands moved to her laces.
She had thought, once or twice in the abstract, that a man like Noah would be impatient. That the control he wore all day would mean the absence of it became something forceful.
She had been wrong about this. He was not impatient. He was thorough. He undid her with the same deliberate attention he gave everything, and she had to remind herself to keep breathing.
“Ye’re doin’ it again,” he said.
“What?”
“Thinkin’.”
“I’m nae.” She stopped. He looked at her. “Okay, aye. I’m thinkin’ a little.”
“About what?”
She was not going to tell him. She looked at his hands instead, at the laces now loose, at the firelight across his forearms. “About nothin’ important.”
“Ava.”
“About how ye’re very...” She stopped again. “Deliberate.”
He looked at her for a moment with an expression that was, she decided, somewhere between amused and entirely not amused. “Would ye prefer somethin’ else?”
“Nay.” The word came out faster than she intended. “Nay. I was observin’. It wasnae a complaint.”
“Good.” He drew the lace free. “Because I’ve been thinkin’ about this all mornin’, and I’ve no intention of rushin’ it.”
Noah chuckled, low and dark, before his mouth crashed down on hers. His lips claimed hers with a hunger that stole her breath, his tongue plunging inside, tasting her like a man starved.
Ava moaned into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as his hands gripped her waist, hauling her against the unmistakable hardness of his manhood. She could feel the ridge of it through the layers of fabric, thick and demanding, and her hips rolled instinctively, seeking friction.
“Ava. What ye do to me,”he groaned against her lips, his hands sliding down to cup her butt, lifting her effortlessly. Ava wrapped her legs around his waist, the skirt of her gown riding up to her thighs as he pressed her back against the wall.
The cold stone pressed into her skin, but his heat burned hotter. His mouth traced down her throat, teeth grazing the delicate flesh just below her ear, and she gasped, her head falling back as his beard scraped against her collarbone.
“Noah.”
“Aye, lass?”His voice was a rough murmur against her skin, his breath hot as his lips found the swell of her breast above the neckline of her gown.“Tell me what ye want.”
She should have lied. Should have played coy. But the truth tore from her in a breathless whimper.“Ye. Just ye.”
He tugged at her lace, and her gown loosened, and he slid it from her shoulders with unhurried hands. The air in the room was warm from the fire, but she felt its exposure.
The particular vulnerability of being looked at by someone who looked at her the way Noah looked at her. Like she was worth the attention. Like he intended to be thorough about this, too.
Her heavy breasts, the tight buds of her nipples, the flush spreading down her torso.
“Christ,”he muttered, his thumb brushing over one taut peak.“Ye’re perfect.”
“Noah,” she said.
“Aye.”
“Stop lookin’ at me like that.”
“Like what?”
She could not explain what. Instead, she looked at the fireplace. He took her chin in his fingers and turned her face back to him.
