“Last I checked.”
“So we should be able to talk about it.”
His eyes flicker with amusement.
“Go on then, Chiara.Talk about sex.”
I take a breath.
“Maybe we should.I mean, I might be interested in one night.”
His expression goes still.
Carefully neutral.
“One night,” he repeats.
“Well, yeah,” I say quickly.“I’m not looking for promises.I want to be realistic.Plus, I have my job, my life here, and I’m not going to complicate it.One night is doable.”
His jaw tightens.
“You keep saying one night,” he snaps.
“Because that’s all this is.”
“How do you know?”he asks.
“Because it has to be.”
Silence stretches between us and I look around to see we’re standing by the big yellow Bronco I know is his.
“It’s all I can offer you, Noah,” I say softly.“If you don’t want that, that’s fine.I can always?—”
“If you say find another guy or use one of those goddamned dating apps,” he growls, voice rough with frustration, “I swear to God I’ll lose my fucking mind, Chiara.”
I blink at him.
“I’ll take what you’re offering,” he continues, stepping closer.
His voice drops, raw and honest.
“Because I want you more than air.”
The words hit me like a shockwave.
And before I can think—before I can retreat—Noah Walker, hooker for the Carolina Rovers, pulls me against him.
Our mouths collide, and it is—cataclysmic.
The kiss is positively electric.
Hot.
Hungry.
Everything I’ve been pretending not to feel for months.
His hands slide to my waist, gripping just tight enough to make my pulse explode.
