2. Noah #2
And suddenly, my body remembers. It’s not the same with the want I have toward women I’ve been with to get the edge off. Heat slams into my gut like a gut punch, low and dangerous. My pants tighten uncomfortably, thick with pressure that hasn’t hit me in years, not like this.
My hands clench into fists, and I grit my teeth, trying to shift my stance without making noise. The friction only makes it worse. My cock’s hard, hard, and pulsing like it’s pissed because it has been so long since it met someone it truly wants to get down with.
Fuck .
It’s not only lust. It’s the shock of feeling something again, so fast, so fierce, so physical, it knocks the wind out of me. And God, it’s not just my body; my mind is reacting too. Like she walked out of some fever dream. Like every wire inside me has sparked back to life.
I close my eyes and try to breathe past it, but all I see is her. Her face turned up to the morning sun, eyes closed like she was home.
And I’m the one who lives here.
What the hell kind of cruel trick is that?
Blaze lets out a small huff at my feet, shifting his weight impatiently. He’s noticed her too, ears perked, tail flicking slow. But he doesn’t bark. He watches like he knows this matters.
I peek again.
She’s moved to the steps now, kneeling to help the boy unzip his backpack. She smooths his hair, her fingers brushing his cheek, and something inside me fractures. There’s a tenderness in her touch, a kind of quiet, fierce love that makes my throat go tight.
She’s a mom.
That realization sinks in slowly and hits hard.
Not just a beautiful woman. Not just temptation wrapped in silk and curves. She’s a mother. She’s got a story. One I don’t know yet, but I already want to.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
I back away slowly again, one hand braced against the bark behind me like it might hold me up. My pulse is a damn drumbeat in my ears. The arousal is still there, insistent, thick, but it’s wrapped now in something messier. Curiosity. Guilt. Hunger. Need.
I haven’t felt this alive in years.
And I’m not sure I know what to do with it.
I haven’t reacted to anyone like this in years, possibly ever. Not since Josie, and even that didn’t hit this fast, this fierce. This... physical. One look and I’m like a damn teenager hiding a hard-on behind a geometry book.
I close my eyes, hoping the cool breeze off the coast might do something, anything, to calm me down. But then I hear her grunt, soft, frustrated, and when I glance again, she’s struggling with some big-ass weekender bag.
It’s slipping off her shoulder, dragging her blouse sideways, and I catch a glimpse of smooth skin where the damp fabric clings to her lower back. My jaw clenches.
Irritation flares in my gut, burning through the lust like a match to gasoline. Not at her, but at myself. For staring. For hiding. For acting like some pervy backwoods hermit instead of a grown man who knows better.
I stalk toward her before my brain can catch up, my boots crunching across the gravel. Her back’s still to me when I reach out and grab the strap, fingers brushing hers.
The bag’s heavier than I expected, or perhaps my grip is off. Maybe everything’s off. Her fingers brush mine, and something sharp zings through me, like a live wire pressed to skin. My pulse jerks. My grip tightens, more reflex than intention, and for a split second, I’m caught. Staring.
Caught in her clean, sweet scent, like fresh linen hung to dry in the sun. I don’t even like that smell. But on her? It’s something else. Something I can’t name.
And all I can do is gawk.
My eyes betray me first. Then, my body follows.
It hits me out of the blue. Heavy. Sudden. The kind of hard that comes on like lightning, no warning, just flash and fire.
I turn. Fast. Don’t say a word. Just haul the bag inside her doorway like I’m being chased. I don’t wait for thank yous or names or her soft breath brushing the air behind me.
She’s saying something, but I can’t comprehend; she’s showing me the boy, and the boy is excited to meet Blaze. I’m seeing her worry. I may have said something, but nothing is registering. All I can think is…
I need space. Air. Cold.
I cross the yard with long, angry strides, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache. Blaze trots behind me, tail swishing like nothing’s wrong in the world. But everything is off-kilter.
By the time I’m in the house, I’ve already stripped down, shirt first, then jeans shoved off one leg at a time like they’ve wronged me.
The water hisses on, and I step under the cold before the thought can settle. Before the image of her, sunlight catching in the golden wisps falling from that messy bun, burns into me any deeper.
The shock hits hard. Bites. My back arches against it.
Good.
I need the sting.
Because I should not be this twisted up over a stranger. A tenant. A single mom with tired eyes and a cherry-stained shirt.
But that doesn’t stop my body. Doesn’t stop the ache that blooms low and fast, the heat that coils tight the second she stares up at me like I’m something to be studied and classified.
My hands brace against the tile, forehead pressed to the cool wall, water beating down over my shoulders. My breath slows. Just enough that I think I might ride it out.
Then I hear it.
A scream.
High-pitched. Sharp. Repeated.
My heart kicks. Once. Hard.
I’m out before the next one cuts the air.
I don’t even stop to think. I grab the first thing in sight, my towel, still damp, and bolt toward the front door. The floorboards rattle under my steps. The screen door bangs behind me. Blaze is already leaping ahead, ears pricked, barking once like an alarm bell.
She’s standing in the yard, spinning, panic radiating off her like heat waves off the asphalt. Her arms are outstretched, palms open like she could physically will whatever is up to come back down.
My eyes snap up.
The kid’s in the damn tree.
High. Too high. He’s gripping a branch like he’s on top of the world, legs swinging, frightened as hell.
Her voice cracks at his name, Parker , like it costs her something to say it out loud.
She’s not crying yet, but I know she’s close. Her whole body’s tight, straining, as if she lets go of the tension, she’ll fall apart right there in the grass.
The towel slaps against my thigh as I run.
And for a second, I forget how weird this is. Forget that I’m practically naked, still dripping from the shower. That the sun is searing the tops of my bare feet. That I’m not her protector, her man, not even her friend.
None of that matters.
He’s in my tree.
And she’s staring at him like he’s her whole damn world.