Harry followed her back through the hallway and into the kitchen. She hummed along with the music as she pulled out the tin of tea bags from the cupboard. It was nice to be in her family’s kitchen, where so much had happened over the years. Dahlia thought about Lil and Gran’s annual Thanksgiving argument over how long to cook the potatoes. She imagined rolling the dough with her mother and Gran for their legendary almond Christmas cookies.
Dahlia put on the kettle and peered out the small window while she waited. The swampy puddles now engulfed the grass, and she wondered where Noah was and what he was up to. She eyeballed her phone, tempted to text him. All she could think about was their last kiss. She touched her lips in anticipation of another and smiled. Did he feel the same? All she could do was hope he shared this desire that seemed to invade her thoughts without warning.
The kettle whistled, and Dahlia flinched, waking her from her daydream. Ribbons of steam rose from the vessel as she poured the water into the cup.
On her tippy toes in the pantry, she reached past the jar of lavender, fingers just grazing the bottle of honey she was looking for. She pinched her nose and squinted as if doing so would give her more height. That’s when she felt a firm hand slide around her waist and a warm body press against her. A sound escaped her lips. It was something between a moan and a yelp. She exhaled slowly, knowing it was Noah.
“What …” She could barely get the words out in between pants. “Are you doing here?” She wanted to turn around and see his gorgeous face, but she also didn’t want to break from his hold that had her breathless and tingly all over.
He whispered in her ear, “I couldn’t stay away.”
Dahlia’s heart raced, and her body grew feverish. It was as if he had read her mind and heart. She blinked to make sure it wasn’t a dream before turning around. “Noah, I—”
Before she could utter any word, he kissed her. He tasted like cinnamon, with hints of sage, likely from one of Gretchen’s test dishes.
With each glide of his tongue, her body felt more like Jell-O. Noah held her hips and lifted her onto the pantry counter. Every molecule in her body ached for him, and she couldn’t bear another near miss. If he left her this time or changed his mind, she might combust. Without hesitation, she pulled back, met his eyes, and said, “Stay.”
He hesitated, looking serious, then a smile curved his lips. His intense gaze screamed desire, longing, and lust. “Nothing could tear me away,” he said. His thick brown hair looked windswept and messy. He smelled like damp leather and soap. “You’re all I could think about today, D.” He brushed the hair off her face. “I want you. Icraveyou. It’s maddening.”
His words stole her ability to think and speak. She’d never known this kind of penetrating, raw need for a man. To know he felt the same, and he was willing to admit it, meant something had shifted. Dahlia’s body felt light and wispy, like dandelion seeds floating in the breeze.
She pressed her mouth to his and reciprocated the sentiment. Her hands slid around his thick neck, and his pulse wildly thumped beneath her fingertips. No words were needed. Their tongues danced, deepening their longing for what was to come.
But then he pulled back, searching her caramel eyes. “Do you want me? I need to hear you say it.”
“It isn’t obvious, Noah? I just asked you to stay.” Their eyes remained firmly connected while her body trembled.
“Say it,” he softly demanded, grazing her arm with his knuckles. It was a small gesture, but one that made her core ache.
“Yes, yes. I want this. I wantyou.”
The old Dahlia Newberry had never been forward with a guy. But this was Dahlia 2.0, and with this kind of newfound confidence, it was anyone’s guess what would happen next.
“Right here, in the pantry,” she said, clenching the edge of the counter. She didn’t know where this unbridled courage came from, but she wasn’t about to hit the brakes. It felt too good, too right.
He leaned into her, pushing her legs open, and she yanked him closer by his jean loops. Her breath hitched as his bulge met her short shorts. Her panties were slick. There was no hiding it; she was aroused. Dahlia’s heart galloped like she was seventeen again. But this time, the boy she was crazy about actually knew how to treat a woman.
“No,” he whispered. “I want to make love to you, D. I don’t want it to be just sex.”
“Noah,” she said, feeling his baby blues scan over every inch of her heated flesh. The truth was she wanted it all, to make love to himandhave wild, earth-shattering sex.
His silky lips teased her ear, and his hips nudged her legs even wider. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun before we go up.”
He left her breathless, not knowing what would follow. Her head fell back against the shelves.
Without warning, he dropped to his knees and looked up at her with a wide grin that curled higher on one side. It was one that said he was about to take her to places she’d only dreamed of as he inched her shorts down.
Dahlia could see the rise and fall of her chest even through the sweatshirt. Was this really happening?Oh, God.Panic started to set in that Noah was about to go down on her. She wasn’t well-versed in this. Spence had only done it a few times, early on, and Tristan just the one time. Noah peppered her inner thigh with tender kisses, and her fear of not being wanted in that way melted.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, nestling his face into her warm, wet entrance, only separated by a thin under layer of cloth. “You smell like powdery heaven.”
Then he did something she wasn’t prepared for. He nipped, licked, and sucked through the fabric. Dahlia could hear her tiny moans, but she didn’t care. She white-knuckled the counter even harder. Why hadn’t she insisted on this sooner?
“You taste so fuckin’ good.”
All she could do was succumb to this earth-shattering feeling and let him continue working his magic. And oh God, was he a magician.
“Like sun-ripened nectar and honey,” he hummed. Who would have thought that Noah Sterling, with the boy-next-door charm, who wanted to wait, could do this? His tongue pressed harder into her seam, and she was going to combust if he didn’t stop.
