"Mmm-mmm," I answer.
He brings his hands to my belly, and I lean back against the glass, biting my lip over the protest I feel trapped there.I'm more self-conscious about my belly than any other part of me, but his touch is gentle and soft and easy, and his eyes are rife with desire and obvious attraction.I need look no further than his bulging zipper to know that my stomach not being flat and smooth isn’t a turn-off.His eyes are on mine, searching and assessing as his hands drift subtly upward from my belly.I roam his chest and sides and stomach with my hands, hold his gaze, lift my chin.I don't try to hide my nerves; I'm trembling, and I know my eyes betray my tumult of emotions.I’m trying so damn hard to be brave, to let my desires take over rather than my fears and insecurities.
I stop breathing as his palms carve over my ribs and halt a hair's breadth from the underside of my breasts.I feel my lower lip catch in my teeth, my lungs freeze.How do I communicate my desires?I can't summon speech—my mouth is dry and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my heart is pounding frantically.I'm terrified.I haven’t been touched like this for longer than Mallory has been alive, and I've forgotten what it's like, how vulnerable it is to put my body in the hands of a man who could hurt me, reject me, insult me…or give me pleasure, validate me, praise me.
I slump back against the glass and gaze up at him."Noah," I breathe."Please."
What am I asking for?I don't know.I hope he does.
By millimeters at first, his hands skim upward.My mouth drops open in anticipation, eyes wide and fixed on his.When I don't stop him, when my fingers hook desperately into the front of his jeans, I see him understand that I want this, I'm just too chicken to say so.
His huge hard hands cover my breasts all at once, and I whimper at his touch.He rumbles as I whimper, growling his desire and appreciation.
His hands are massive and powerful and my breasts are small.His hands engulf them easily and completely.My nipples, already hard and sensitive, tighten further into diamond points as his rough, callused palms scrape over them.His caress is gentle.No painful squeezing, no honking—thank god.He swipes his thumbs over my nipples, and I gasp helplessly, mouth falling open.Now he does squeeze them, but tenderly, worshipfully, carefully.Lifts them, lets them drop—they don't go far, obviously.I squirm as he touches me, thighs pressing together, stomach curling in.
With a soft, impatient snarl, Noah leans down and claims my mouth, hungry and insistent.As he kisses me, he lifts the hem of my sweater, inch by inch, until cold air drenches my breasts.I break the kiss and lift my arms, and then I'm topless.
I grip his arms in shaky hands, fingernails digging into muscle as I resist the urge to cross my arms over myself.
“Sofuckingbeautiful, Morgan," he whispers, the words ripped out of him, as if the truth simplyhadto be uttered.
My entire being swells at the praise.My psyche soaks it up.My heart devours the validation.
I can't look at him, though.I can only close my eyes tightly and endure the prickling awareness of his scrutiny.
"Morgan, honey."His voice is soft and rough with desire."Look at me.Open your eyes."
I force them open, peer at him through a shimmery haze."Hi," I whisper.
Big thumbs brush gently over my left eye, my right.Lips press tenderly against my lips."It's okay if you decide it's too much too soon."
I shake my head.“It's not that."I exhale through pursed, trembling lips."I just…at the risk of sounding like a toddler, I just have a lot of big feelings."
"Care to share?"
I close my eyes, shake my head, dimpling my fingers into his chest."No, not—not right now.I will.I want to."I open my eyes again and meet his."I like the way you kiss me.I like the way it feels when you touch me.I'm nervous, I'm scared, and it's no secret I have insecurities about my body.But I also want…you—us—this."
"I wish you could see what I see," he whispers, forehead touching mine.
"I do too."
Noah backs away from me, hands cupping my face.For a moment I think he's going to kiss me again, or say something.He does neither.Well, he does kiss me, just not on the mouth.He kisses my forehead.My eyes.My cheeks, left then right.Pauses, eyes meeting mine, his gaze and his expression telling me without words that I'm beautiful.I stare into his blue eyes and marvel that it's me he's looking at that way.My soul soars, my pulse races.
He kisses my throat.The round of my left shoulder.The right.My sternum.The dip where my breasts begin.His eyes meet mine, looking for demurral or permission.
I slip my fingers into his hair, the only permission I'm capable of giving—My tongue is fused to the roof of my mouth, my lips sewn shut.
Noah sinks to his knees in front of me, and he cups my breasts from beneath, the semi-circle of his forefinger and thumb surrounding my areolae and nipples.I'm trying to swallow and panting quick, short, frightened, aroused breaths.
His lips suckle my nipple into his mouth, and I gasp."Noah!"
He rolls his thumb over my left nipple while suckling on my right, and a searing bolt of ecstasy shudders through me, leaving my knees weak and shaky.My core spasms as he transfers his mouth to my left nipple and flicks my right with a fingernail, eliciting a sharp hiss from me.He licks my breast, the flat of his tongue swiping up and over my nipple, then the other one, and then he's suckling one and the other, and my core quakes and my knees threaten to give out, and I have to hold onto his shoulders for balance, for support.
“Oh god," I gasp."Noah.That feelssogood."
He gazes up at me, caressing my nipples while palming the weight of my breasts—such weight as there is, at least.He growls like a hungry predator and leans in again, mouthing my breasts on one side and the other, kissing, licking.He grasps my ass, and then his hands slide up my back, over my shoulders, down my sides and back to my butt, all the while worshipping my breasts with his mouth.
I let my head tip back against the cold glass and rest my hands on his shoulders and close my eyes and luxuriate in the glory of attention, the heat of his desire for me.Each touch of his hands, each press of his lips communicates his appreciation for my body, and it's like water soaking into parched soil.
