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One side of her mouth twitches. “I’m surprised you know the reference.”

“It’s my favorite Bible story.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “What? Why?”

“It shows what happens when women don’t take directions,” I say flatly, knowing it will annoy the woman in my arms. And for reasons I can’t quite understand, I enjoy seeing her ruffled.

She huffs and pulls away from me slightly. Her mouth opens to say some scathing remark, I’m sure. But I bring my hand up and place one finger over her luscious lips. They’re soft under my touch, making me want to lean in and press my lips against them too.

“Shhhh. I know it’s a good point. You don’t have to flatter me.”

She peeks her tongue out, poking my finger with the tip. It’s a childish move, one that should deter me. But it makes her more fun, more unexpected. I remove my hand and slide it around to her lower back.

Noel heaves a sigh and grabs onto my arm, sliding said hand up a few inches on her back.

“So that’s what you think? Women are pets, meant to sit down and shut up and allow men to tell them what to do.”

“Of course not, I prefer them when they’re licking my fingers.”

She huffs indignantly, trying to pull away again. “I was not licking your fingers.”

I tighten my arms around her waist, her hands going from my shoulders to my chest. I believe she’s trying to put space between us, but her hands feel good on my chest. And my pecs happen to be one of my best features.

“Then what, pray tell, were you doing?”

She thinks for a moment, then her mouth quirks, like she’s remembering something funny. “Me and my siblings used to do that. When one of them would put their hand over another’s mouth and tell them to shut up, we’d just lick their hand, and they’d remove it instantly.” Noel wrinkles her pert nose. “It’s sort of gross now that I think of it.”

I laugh. “How many siblings do you have?”

That question gets a genuine, beaming smile out of her. Note to self: she enjoys talking about her siblings.

“I have three.”

“And let me guess… you’re the oldest?”

She hesitates, biting her bottom lip. “What would make you think that?”

I breathe a small laugh through my nose, spinning her on the dance floor when the music swells. “You have oldest child written all over you. Driven, responsible, serious, and you have a perpetual stick up your butt.”

“I do not have a,” she lowers her voice to an angry whisper, “stick up my butt.” Her jaw ticks, she’s obviously offended.

“Don’t worry, angel,” I whisper back. “I happen to like your butt.”

“You’re a pig,” she says, still annoyed, and trying to push away from me again. With an exasperated sigh, she changes the subject. “How many siblings do you have?”

“One,” I answer, pulling her more tightly into my arms while she’s distracted. She smells intoxicating… slightly spicier than usual. A cinnamon roll instead of a sugar cookie.

“And let me guess,” She copies the words I said to her. “You’re the baby.”

My head drops back, and a booming laugh comes out of me, drawing the attention of the surrounding dancers. “Technically, I’m also the oldest.”

“You’re kidding.”

I shake my head slowly from side to side. “I have a half-sister who’s much younger than me. I was an only child most of my life.”

“Oh.” She seems surprised. “How much younger?”

“A lot younger.”