I feel his breath on the back of my neck.the fire is hot, and I'm getting warm.I discarded my jacket when we came in, but I'm still wearing my thick wool cardigan.As if reading my mind, Noah tugs the sweater away from my neck, lets the sleeves droop down my arms.I pull out of it and set it aside.With that layer gone and only the thin cotton of my long-sleeve tee between us, I feel the heat of his body and the warmth of his hands.The massaging pressure is delightful, incredible.The tension ebbs out of me, bit by bit, at his touch.
He slips his hands under my shirt, then, and I groan at the hard heat of his hands on my bare skin.He scratches gently in broad, slow circles.His palms smooth and soothe where his fingernails scraped.Massages again, digging into the knots and coils of tension.
Bit by bit, I become loose, relaxed.
But still hot.
As if reading my mind, Noah drags the hem of my shirt up my back—slowly, giving me plenty of time to stop him.I don't.If nothing else, I'm too hot.I lift my arms and he tugs the garment off, leaving me in my leggings and bra.I feel him move behind me, and he wraps his arms around me from behind—he's shirtless now as well, his skin hot against mine.
I find myself slumping back against him, giving him all my weight.My head rests back against his shoulder; it's as natural as breathing to tilt my face to the side and find his mouth, breathe in his kisses.
It's soft and slow.Not delicate, not ginger, not careful of my feelings.Exploratory.Questing.Seeking.Building.
He palms my cheek, and I settle more deeply against his chest, and I find myself in his arms and on his lap, curled and nestled against him, cocooned by his arms and body, and kissed so deeply I feel it in my soul.
Even after the kiss fades to nothing but breath against breath, lips not quite touching, I feel him somehow in my soul.
"Noah," I breathe.
He tilts to the side, depositing me onto the blanket with his arm crooked under my neck."Close your eyes," he whispers; I close them."Good.Keep 'em closed.I'll be right back."
I want to ask where he's going, but I don't want to be needy or clingy, so I don't.It's torture to leave my eyes closed.I hear his bedroom door open, a pause, then close again.Another, slightly longer silence.Another door opens—to the garage?I can't tell, and I'm burning with curiosity.What is he doing?
I hear his bare feet padding on the floor.His fingers touch the back of my hand to alert me to his presence as he sits down again.
"Noah?What's going on?What are you doing?"I feel supremely awkward, just lying here alone, partially naked, eyes closed, doing nothing.
Something soft touches my eyes; Noah lifts my head with a gentle hand and slips a band around the back of my head."It's my eye mask for when I need to sleep during the day."
“Okay," I whisper.
"It's okay?You're sure?"
I swallow hard, nod."Yes, I’m sure."
And I am.Even with my eyes open, I can see nothing.Immediately, my other senses heighten.I can hear the crackling whoosh of the fire, a gust of wind skirling around the house.I smell Noah—he must have just showered after practice, because he smells clean.I smell the ghost of a candle's scent.Thankfully, I can't smell my own desire, although anticipation is quickly igniting my libido.
"I've never been blindfolded before," I admit, squirming under his gaze, which I can feel like a tactile sensation.
"This is a first for me too, honey.I'm not following some playbook of moves or anything like that."
"No?"I say, laughing."And here I assumed you were a regular Casanova."
"Hardly.I'm just hoping that by taking away your sight you'll be forced to focus on your other senses."
"Seems to be working," I whisper.
"Good."His lips touch mine, and I lift to meet him.
I whimper as his mouth opens to mine, and I dig my hands into his hair, clutch him to me, kiss him with everything I've got.Instead of pulling away again, this time Noah bends over me, presses me into the floor.He gathers my hands in one of his and pins my wrists into a pillow overhead.The immobility of my hands ratchets my arousal…for some reason.Being blindfolded and pinned has never been very high on my list of fantasies.I'm not lying in bed at night masturbating to images of being bound up and blindfolded.
Yet, with my sight taken away and my hands pinned and immobilized, I find the sensation of kissing him heightened even further.His tongue quests against mine and his big heavy hard body covers me, not quite crushing me but giving me enough weight to ground me, tethering me to reality when the bliss of his kiss threatens to send me drifting away into nothing.
With my wrists clutched in one of his hands, Noah's other hand lazily peruses my ribcage, my belly, my sides, my breastbone.My nipples harden inside my plain white, boring, full-coverage, extremely unsexy bra; more than ever, it seems like he can read my mind, because he tucks his hand under my back and urges me to arch my spine.I do so, and he releases my hands just long enough to undo my bra clasp, and then he drags the garment away from my body…slowly.My nipples tighten into hard little peaks as the air bathes them, and then he's pinning my hands over my head again and his lips are scouring my breast, nuzzling the tender flesh of the underside, and his tongue flits against my nipple.I gasp, and arousal drenches my sex—he sucks on my nipple until it flattens in his mouth, sending a sharp pang of intense arousal rippling through me, eliciting a shrill cry and an arch of my back, pushing my breast against his mouth.
"Noah!"
"I'm not going to ask if it's okay anymore, Morgan.If at any point you don't like what I'm doing, let me know."
