Then Noah stiffens. His movements become fast and jerky, triggering my release. I come undone, moaning, babbling something I won’t remember. A low grunt tears out of Noah, and I feel wetness on my thighs.
With one last tender kiss, he lets go of my lips. He shifts to the side, pulling me into his arms. Soft kisses land on my forehead, my temple, my chin. I smile dreamily, even as my heart tightens with an unnamed feeling.
I slowly start to drift—then jerk awake as Noah moves away. He turns back at my small sound of protest. “I need to clean you up. I’ll be right back, angel.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.
I nod. When he comes back with a warm, damp towel, I sigh. He gently wipes my thighs, tosses the towel aside, and settles back in, pulling me close until our lips nearly touch and our eyes drink each other in.
My heart races as emotion swamps me. No one’s ever wanted me this close or this much. Not even my mother. Noah doesn’t say much, but his every action speaks louder. My breath catches, and I gasp softly against his lips.
His grip tightens just slightly. “Cammi.”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
My chest tightens. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do.”
“For what?”
“For staying.”
I smile softly against his lips. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”
A pause. “Good.” His voice is quieter now. Sleepier.
I close my eyes and smile. Because for the first time in a long time, I feel seen.
Wanted.
Chapter Five
Noah
I wake slowly, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, it’s not from noise or panic. Then I feel it. Warmth against my chest. Soft. I look down.
Cammi. She’s curled into me like she belongs there. Her head is tucked just under my chin, her blond hair spread across my pillow.
My arm is still around her. Tight. Possessive. I don’t move it. My eyes wander over her face—the freckles, the pointed little chin, lashes resting against her cheeks. She breathes slowly and evenly.
Something in my chest shifts. Something deeper. “Angel,” I murmur.
She doesn’t stir, just presses closer, like she heard me anyway. She looks younger like this. Lighter. Untouched by everything she’s been through. Flashes of the night before spring up in my mind. My cock hardens instantly.
I shouldn’t want her. That thought lands hard. I shouldn’t want something this good—not with the demons I carry. What if I hurt her one night during an episode? What if I’m too far in my own head to protect her when it counts? The thoughts fill me with panic.
My hold tightens. I drag in a slow breath, trying to steady myself. It doesn’t work. Because the truth is, I don’t just want her. I need her. And that’s dangerous.
“I should let her go,” I mutter.
But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. I can’t picture myself without her now that I have her this close. This beautiful angel who came out of nowhere and lit up a life I’d written off. She walked into my life, and somehow, everything shifted.
My jaw tightens because I know how this ends. Men like me don’t get to keep the good thingy. We ruin it. Yet, the thought of anyone hurting her—me included—makes me want to do damage.
My grip flexes again. Subtle and instinctive. Because the last truth settles in, and it’s the one I can’t argue with. I’m not letting her go. Not an option. “She’s mine,” I say, low.
The words feel right. I don’t just want to protect her. I want to keep her safe and happy. With me. My thumb brushes lightly over her arm. She shifts slightly, a soft sound leaving her lips.
