Page 106 of Let Me Show You

He lifts one of my legs, then positions himself at my entrance. Sliding in slowly, he pushes in deep and fills every inch of me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight in this position,” he hisses into my neck.

Snaking a hand between my thighs, Noah circles my clit and increases his pace.

“Oh my God,” I murmur, surrendering to every glorious inch of him. The sensation of him pounding into me and rubbing slowly has the buildup surfacing quickly.

“You like that?” he asks in my ear.

“So good,” I mutter.

“You want harder?”

“God, yes.”

Every stroke, every caress, every lick, suck, and kiss—Noah cherishes me in a way I never knew existed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

NOAH

I wouldn’t have been opposed to staying another week tangled in the sheets with Katie at the B&B. I’m pretty sure I’ve had a permanent smile on my face since we got home yesterday afternoon. The morning comes quickly, and I’m looking forward to going to work.

Instead of taking Dad’s truck today, he offered to drop me off because he had a few errands to run. On the way to town, we stop and grab a dozen donuts, then make our way to the gym.

“Did ya have a good weekend?” Dad asks as the brick building comes into view.

“Yeah, it was great to get away and relax,” I tell him. “You and Belinda should go visit that B&B. Would be a nice weekend getaway, and the food around town is really good.”

Dad nods. “That might be an idea. Belinda’s birthday is coming up soon. Might have to plan somethin’ special.”

He slows in front of the gym, and I grab the donuts. “Want one while they’re still warm?”

With a big grin, I open the box.

“I’m about to have breakfast at the deli. Better not tell Belinda,” he says, taking my offer.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” I tell him before getting out of the truck and waving goodbye.

I laugh and walk inside, where Tyler and Gemma are standing at the front counter. They look at me, then Gemma sees what I’m holding.

“You spoil me,” she says, moving closer.

“You? These are for Tyler,” I tease.

He chuckles as Gemma smacks my arm.

“Okay, you win,” I say, handing them over.

She opens the box. “Did you get a dozen?”

“Yeah,” I tell her. “Why?”

“They shorted you,” she says. “I might call down there and⁠—”

“I didn’t get shorted. I gave one to Dad.”

She snorts. “I’m blaming my instant rage on hormones.”